Thursday, January 19, 2012

Little Lost Girls

Of all the fucking luck... She was fine yesterday, right? Harls, that is. All chirpy and chipper as hell, waking me up with singing and dancing around. Fucking adorable. And no, no matter what she's posted or going to post, I don't blame her for any of this shit. I chose to go with her. That's not the point though, is it? It's fucking nice to have little moments of happy.

Too bad that got thrown in the crapper today. She's sick as fuck again, coughing up blood, puking, weak as a baby, the works. I had to call her bitch-ass withered-tit cunt of a fucking manager today and tell her she couldn't come in. Contrary to what you might think, I was fucking nice about it, even though she was a bitch. Didn't want to get her fired, after all. Yeah, oh, Darts being nice. Anyone reading this probably thinks I'm a cunt, and I know it.

Well, I am. Anyway, I'm taking care of Harls right now, as best I can. This shit happens. Kind of cycles, though it's been getting worse over the last month or two. And of course it definitely gets worse under certain circumstances.

Treat the symptoms as best we can. I fucking hate seeing her like this. It's not fair that she takes the brunt of this shit. It's not. But it always seems to happen that way. It's always less for me. But I take care of her, and that's what fucking matters. We'll get through this, just like the other times.

It's okay... We'll be fucking fine, at least to an extent. She'll be fine tomorrow or the next day. That's just the way these things go. We've ridden it out before. Until then, I get to be the sexiest fucking nurse in ripped up jeans ever, right?


  1. Replies
    1. the song... Come On Eileen. Great song. Makes me feel less like shit.

  2. So I'm assuming Harls' name is actually Eileen. Which thus makes me ask, where did "Harls" originate.

    And I hope she gets better and stays well. And sorry about that e-mail that made me look like a fool.

  3. Gotta agree there: Yep, you are a cunt. Then again, a lot of people are cunts. Hell, even I've been called a cunt a couple of times, even though I don't have one affixed to my body (constantly, that is).

    Treat your girlfriend. Delay the inevitable. I know that sounds like some sinister bullshit, but check the survival rates for people in your situation. Not very high.

    1. What's the Han Solo line? "Don't tell me the fucking odds!"?
      ... Yeah, I'm paraphrasing. Got a problem with it?

      Anyway, I'm not gonna give up on her, you fucking asshole, got that? What's the fucking point of just giving up, when you still have at least something to hang the hell onto?

  4. Come On Eileen is awesome. I hopeHarls gets better!