Kicks To The Tits.

How do I top a post about my bladder? None of my other organs are very interesting, so this may prove to be difficult. What’s happened recently? Let’s see...I saw a movie, cleaned up dog vomit, made plans for the weekend...FUCK, YOU GUYS! My life is so god damn boring!

I could make up some fantastical story, involving really attractive guys and girls slowly running up a beach...OH SHIT, that’s Baywatch. Great, I can’t even make up stories.

You know what annoys me? People still thinking I’m a teenager. It’s not that I act like one, it’s that I look like one. It’s so very irritating.

The other night I went to dinner with Ma & Gabriel. As we contemplated the menu down at our local, mum suggested that I get a kids meal, as I never eat a whole adult one. I refused, knowing that the staff would think I was 15. She won out, and went and ordered for me. The waitress came over to our table with my meal about ten minutes later and asked who had ordered it. I stared at the table  while mum loudly proclaimed that I was the one the meal was for. The waitress smirked at me, put my food on the table and walked out. I was thisclose to getting up and kicking her in the tit for smirking at me.

We ended up sending my meal back because it had been brought out before the entrees and mum and Gabriel’s meals, so I was subject to the humilation again when they brought it back with the other meals. It was a different waiter, and when ma told him that it was my meal, I death stared her like I’ve never death stared before. He put it down in front of me, noticed I was mid-death stare and said, “Ah, teenagers usually order the kids meals. Don’t worry.” Ma thought it was hilarious, as did Gabriel and I just sat there fuming.

WHAT THE FUCK, MAN? I’m not a teenager! I am 21 years old, and I will pound your ass with my puny, fifteen year old looking arms.

I told him I wasn’t a teenager and he just said “oh” and walked off. You should see it when I try to buy cigarettes! One afternoon, I was dangerously low in smokes. At three, I was out the door and on my way home from work. It takes me about an hour to drive home, but I only had one cigarette. I had to make it last until I got the service station that is about fifteen minutes away from home, but failed miserably. When I’d finished my last smoke, I found a half finished one in one of the many compartments of my car. I knew it was from a few weeks ago, but I lit her up anyway.

It tasted like stale Chlamydia so I gave up on that asshole and dealt with the fact that I would have to wait half an hour before I got to the servo. At the servo I filled my car up and walked in to pay and get my smokes. I asked for my brand and the woman gave me a disbelieving look and asked for ID.

Now, I know it’s meant to be a good thing for people to still ask you for ID, even though you’re 21 and have numerous tattoos that you think would prove to people that you’re over 18, but it really does get annoying. Especially when they stare at your chest tattoo while demanding to see some identification. I know I look young and sound like a little girl, but I wouldn’t have these tattoos unless I was over 18.

Sigh. Anyway, I was granted permission from the attendant to purchase my loot and then I legged it back to the car so I could enjoy another cigarette. Sweet release. DO YOU SEE HOW HARD MY LIFE IS? I have to deal with so many first world problems on a daily basis.

Shit, you know what? I kind of like people thinking I'm fifteen. If I'm being hit on by some wanker, I just tell him I'm 15 and he vanishes. It's pretty dang effective. *waggles eyebrows*