I can’t seem to figure out how to comment in my drunken stupor, so I will drunkenly post an entirely new message, because apparently I have figured that much out. It is the 5th of August, though technically everything has happened prior to this, ensuring August’s fate as the worst month of the year.
Supposedly in numerology 8 is a bad number to begin with. For example, I don’t even like WRITING the number 8. My parents got divorced when I was 8. My aunt died in 1988…..I may be mistaken, but I believe that it was in August. Super 8 Motel, worst Motel ever… People are always getting sick from something they 8…so on and so forth.
This month, my man moved out and I lost my job. Oh, then like a typical male, (no offense, maybe I watch too much daytime TV,) he dropped the kid, (Copper Dog,) off and said “he’s too much of a burden right now.” I also have to make my first car payment this month, but I suppose that is my fault. Maybe.
In August, the third to be exact, I went to Secretary of State (DMV) to sign over the title of a car that I GAVE to my ex, (who left me and then told me that I broke up with him.) It was a big deal to him; He works at an oil plant and said that his employers are pressuring him about the car, because it is not registered to him. So he wanted me to be at SOS at 10am. It was hard, but I managed to pull myself out of bed and be there on time, title in hand. Upon my arrival, I noticed a sign that said “WEDNESDAY HOURS 11AM-7PM.” Being very tired, I thought it was Wednesday and called him to tell him that we would be early. However, when I called him, I woke him up. Obviously pissed, I told him about the sign and how during the phone ringing, I remembered that it was actually Tuesday and that I was certain that they were open.
Then I said, “I put sale price as $1.00, so give me a dollar.”
To which he replied, “Well I will have to later, I don’t have a dollar.”
I then say, “Well I am going to go inside and get a number, so we aren’t here all day” and hang up.
I wait in the first line, just to get a ticket with a number, which took about ten minutes. I speak to the lady, who of course would be a total bitch and she says “Well I hope he brings his ID.” I assured her that I had things under control and convinced her to just give me the stupid fucking ticket with the number.
I then proceed to text the ex about what a bitch the lady was and “how stupid does she think someone is to not bring their ID to the SOS?” Then, my phone rings. Not just any rings. The FUCKING, Richard Cheese, “Gin and Juice” ring tone that no matter how many times I try to remove, will not go away.
I answer and it is the ex who says, “Do you want to do this another day, because I don’t have my license. I just woke up and started driving.”
I tell him to fuck off, more so with my tone than my words and continue about my day.
Today, I receive a text from a friend that said: “Did you and Erik break up.”
I respond: “Yes, a couple of weeks ago.”
He then texts: “OK, because otherwise I would be the bearer of bad news.”
As it turns out, Mister My-Heart-Is-So-Broken-I-Can’t-Believe-That-You-Broke-Up-With-Me-Even-Though-I-Moved-Out-And-Changed-My-Facebook-Status-Immediately is at the Tigers baseball game with his arm around some girl that my friend says is “about a deuce and a quarter.”
I know that might seem silly for me to care, because I told you that he is an “ex,” but I was under the impression that it was something that we were trying to work through, not get over. Not to mention that he wanted me to tell him if I decided to go on any dates and told me that he would do the same. Oh and he was so certain that I was going to date one of my co-workers. I am nearly certain that this girl is HIS co-worker.
So, apparently I am easily replaced at work and at home. At least my dog loves me sometimes.
In closing, it is a good thing that I could not figure out how to comment, because this would have been a really awkward and random comment. I also feel much better now. Thank you for browsing.
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