Why are you doing this to me? Seriously.
I've got crap to do. I bills to pay. A budget to balance. A few quick looks around LJ (which turned out not to be so quick...man it's tough catching up...)
I managed to get it done, despite your whining.
I want to get up early tomorrow and pretend to go to the gym.
But you have dragged me back to the computer at 11:19 p.m. insisting that I keep writing.
Because "you want to get it over with."
Thanks a lot.
Hate you, too.
And thus, I prove that I have officially gone off the deep end. I'm not only arguing with imaginary people, I'm arguing with imaginary people that I don't even own.
My life isn't bizarre. Not. At. All.