a letter. to you.

dear people who know who they are (or worse, people who don't),

i do not have to explain, defend, or justify the choices i make in my life. not about work, not about breakfast, not about the color of my socks or the shows i watch(ed back when i could watch tv).

you don't like my choices? you don't have to! mind your own business (novel concept), make your own choices and keep your nosey, self-righteous, egocentric, indulgent ass out of my way. because all you're doing is pissing me off to the point where i have to purge about it and you know what? i don't have fucking time for this.

love ya! mean it!
k

OH MY FREAKIN' GOD....

I seriously cannot tolerate people right now.  Well, just certain people.... that happened to be related to me...by marriage (though some of the ones not related by marriage aren't winning points either... but another post for another day...) I get SO pissed off at people that have a history of heart disease and then are shocked and surprised when they end up BACK in the hospital with congestive heart failure when they have done NOTHING to keep this from happening.  Not liking vegetables or, you know, not walking around the fucking block WILL send you back to the hospital.  And seriously, how long will your employers continue to pay for your bad health choices.  WHILE we are at it, living with a woman that has missed more days at work than having attended due to flu and other ailments...and NOW is having to apply for medical leave in order to not have to resign, due to high blood pressure, borderline diabetes, and numerous other health issues (obesity included) is all well and good...but take a hint.  It is not because jobs are too stressful, it is because you CHOOSE to eat poorly and CHOOSE not to walk or get ANY exercise, so take a fucking hint and MOVE YOUR ASS!  sigh.
AND ANOTHER THING, getting knocked up by a 34 year old when you are 20 and he wants nothing to do with you, IS NOT A TEST FROM GOD....IT IS STUPIDITY IN DECISION MAKING.  Saying that this is an ACTUAL pregnancy and not some desperate attempt to convince said boy (cause that IS what he is) to love you and take care of you, you NEED to fucking see a doctor.  You NEED to fucking file for Medicaid.  You NEED to fucking figure out what the hell you are going to do.  Since apparently college is too difficult, as you have flunked out 2 times in as many years.   One hopes that he Dollar General sees fit to keep you on.  And no, going to work when you feel like shit is no fun, but you get ZERO sympathy from me.   And again, this is not God testing you, so stop blaming a higher power for your idiocy.
Now, to concentrate on my blood pressure coming back down from the stress of this week.