I was going to write today about how super awesome my life it and how it's all rainbows, sunshine, unicorns, pink sparkles and glitter, and cute furry, little puppies.
But then I woke up pissed off. There was a toddler lying next to me which made me a little less pissy.
Why was I so pissy? The little but widely known fact that men are morons. I'm not talking about the men in your life, I'm talking about one specifically...my husband. He pulled the stupid, I forgot the directions to our house and then I ran out of gas and couldn't hitch hike my way back because I'm afraid I would have been murdered routine.
I wasn't buying any of it. He should consider marrying his coworkers.
I was just really pissed because I slaved over a Tombstone pizza and he wasn't there to give me compliments and tell me I'm the next Giada.
Hate to be the person to put it out there and I really don't care who you are because at some point in your life, you're going to second guess saying "yes" and realize your husband is in fact a giant dumbass. It just goes with the territory.
Wow, just saying that makes me feel better.
So anyways, pissy as I was, I went downstairs to bring some laundry up from the basement and low and behold our back door was bashed in. I screamed for Barney, said a million explitives and wondered how the day could get worse.
This day was supposed to be awesome...I was doing big things today.
Yes, some assclown broke into our house, rather our home. The place that's supposed to be my safe zone, my haven. The place where I'm growing my little girl.
And they broke a chair.
One thing you don't do, is mess with a mama and her bears den AND you best NEVER mess with her cubs. I can almost bet that it's the piece of shits across the street. There's like 58 people renting a house together. I think they call themselves a family but I'm pretty sure everyone know's they are a bunch of good for nothings.
I had this really weird feeling last night when I took Quinn out for a run. I was waiting for the GPS signals to find my watch so I could start and one of the fuck sticks across the street kept watching me. I couldn't pin point if he was checking me out or waiting for me to leave but either way, it gave me the heebie jeebies.
Needless to say, we got on the horn to the Sheriff's Office to get it on record. They came out and took a few pictures and stated "we've had a few issues in the neighborhood" to which my husband blantently mentioned the neighbors across the street. The officer couldn't say anything but basically we knew that's what he meant. Husband also said, were already paying for their things, why do they need to break into our house? The officer couldn't disagree. All our neighbors do all day is drive around the town and then chain smoke in the evening.
They are fucking worthless.
The thing that makes me the most upset is that we were sleeping just a few feet away. Luckily, when I went to bed, I decided to move Quinn in with me. It makes me feel a little better that Quinn was by my side the entire night but it freaks me out that we didn't hear a thing.
They fucked up the door jam pretty bad that I don't know how one of us didn't hear it. Also, what did they do when they got in? They didn't take anything, so what was the point? Also, just to note, in order to get to my back door, you have to open the gate to get into my backyard and that takes some pretty big balls.
I'm on lookout from now on and so are the PO-PO.
I'm going to fuck shit up.