A cute apartment is essential for a single gal and I'm lucky to have a mother that agrees with me.
Lets see, I need fabric to recover the cushions on the bamboo chair I'm inheriting from my parents. The scary pink flowered shit from 1985 that's on it now is anti-cute and mustn't enter my cute only apartment.
I also need a bed skirt for the new big girl queen sized (yes, very fitting) bed Nebraska Furniture Mart will be delivering the day I move in. And not one of those horrendous frilly things - Tailored, thank you, tailored.
It's probably also a good idea that I borrow some money to pay for asshole's leather couch that Andy sorta, kinda ate when we were first dating because I more or less live paycheck to paycheck like most writers. (Why the hell didn't I major in marketing or business like a normal human being? Journalism - really? What the fuck is wrong with me? Damn dream follower and shit...) I can't be moving into my new cute apartment with couch dues unpaid. That's just bad karma. Plus I really don't want him to come hunt me down for the money (which he would most definitely do) or hire a hit man (yeah, wouldn't put that one past him either) because I really just want him to go the hell away so I can pretend he no longer exists.
I'm also glad mom and I see eye to eye on this issue as well. After shopping a bit, we stopped by her bank right by where I used to live. The cute little house that I found on the Internet. My goddamn house that I was forced to vacate because somebody is a scary dickhead. This launched me into a diatribe of how said dickhead would still be living in Olathe with no friends and no life if I had never come along. I introduced him to the lovely land up north - close to the fun stuff, yet still suburbia, yet not suburbia hell - I introduced him to everybody he hangs out with now (or used to since most of them have told him to fuck off because of his actions towards me) and the entire life he leads...blah, blah, blah on and on and on...and then he just steals the life I created out from under me forcing me to start over again? It's just not fucking fair.
"I hate him, Mom. I fucking HATE HIM!"
"I just don't know if I can do this anymore. Guys are just a pain in the ass. How do people deal with this and get married and stuff? Fuck it, I'm just staying single."
Mom: "You know Lara, sometimes it just isn't worth it. They're more trouble than they're worth."
We pull up to my bank so I can deposit money into my account and I yank down my green lace button up shirt as I walk in. The only male teller behind the counter eagerly says, "I can help you right here!"
As I hand him the cash, he stares me in the face, smirks, then says, "Your eyes match your shirt, ya know that?"
I raise my eyebrows, grab my receipt and just say, "Yeeeep" and walk out.
(whining)"Mom, the bank teller just hit on me!"
Mom: "He did?!" What did he say?"
"He said 'your eyes match your shirt, ya know that?'"
Mom: "Did you say 'hellooooo, my eyes are blue?'"
"No, but I should've...I can't even go to the bank without being molested by some stupid guy. What a douche."