This week has been mediocre, as is my life. I accepted the role of ‘guinea pig’ for my team’s Halloween costume at work. Meaning, I got to bring all the supplies home, make the costume, and then had to instruct everyone at work on how to make it. They called me Miss Gizzy, and it felt good. However, applying 2 layers of paper mache to a beach ball did not feel good. In fact, it made me feel really fucking gross because the “paste” is made out of flour and water and when I went outside to walk the dog, my neighbor asked if I was aware that I had biscuit in my hair. I wanted to ask if he was aware that he should shut the fuck up, but be proud, Diary, I did not.
Last weekend I went to visit Gigi. We threw ourselves a “I’m not getting married” Bachelorette party, which was fun because we got free drinks and negative attention, but ended in Gigi getting flowers from a guy that hit on me. I won’t even elaborate because I’m still pissed at that flower stealing whore face.
Earlier this week I threw 2 tantrums in public. Both over spaghetti squash, or rather the lack there of. I mean, I don’t live on fucking Antarctica. Can I not expect my local grocer to carry a common food item such as that? According to Walmart Manager Billy, I cannot.
Thanks for listening, Diary.
Your BFF, Gizzy<3