Love Hawg

Man, what a shitty day. This fat cow came in today complaining that someone got oil all over the interior of her precious little japanese sissy car. Since I'm in charge of that department, the morons at the front desk called me in to deal with her. She goes on and on about how she wants us to pay for the cleaning, so I told her I'd have to see it first. I saw it, and it wasn't shit. I told her it looked like she spilled some soda, cause it didn't smell like any oil. I asked if she had been through any drive-thrus lately. She got all pissy, and threw a huge fit. She said she wanted to speak with the owner. I told her if she needs to talk to Mike, she needs to make an appointment with his secretary. I told her that we're not gonna pay for any cleaning if she can't hold on to her food. I don't care. I know Mike won't fire me. We've been friends since Junior High.

Then, when I get home, Tiff is on my computer, talking to guys in a chat room or some shit. All I did was put my hand on her shoulder, but she stars crying, saying I hurt her. She should know better than to piss me off when I've had a bad day. And then she started cutting into me about my drinking, saying if I wouldn't stop by the pub after work, I wouldn't be acting like this. I told her if she doesn't like it, then she can get the fuck out of my house. She stormed out, AGAIN, but called me like 2 hours later, crying as usual. "I love you, I'm sorry...". The usual crap. I told her she can come back tomorrow if she minds her p's and q's. Besides, from the blogs I've seen tonight in this battle thing, I've got enough babes to keep me company for the evening, if you know what I mean. I'll talk to you later.