Ouchy

My feet are killing me- or shall I say "my dogs are barking"? A day out in the racy field of copier sales (or lack thereof) in my sensible 4" Jessica Simpson pumps has left me with the gait of a 96 year old woman and lower back pains which always make taking more V justifiable.

Came home to an eager Giovanni, who cleaned his plate for the first time in ages. It was fucking 9 lives special edition or some bullshit that my mom gave me in case of emergency. (Emergency being that I am behind on every bill but Gio musn't go a day without dry and wet food) Turns out that he prefers it to his Fancy Feast- what a lowlife!!!

Last night- started crying while out to dinner with David. I held it back and asked to change the subject when he asked about my job (money is not fun to discuss with someone who makes 4x in a month than what I've made in the last year) but this resulted in being called Debbie Downer by him. I see his point; no one else's problems are that fun to hear about so after I got stoned with him, clogged his toilet (heavy dinner, oops), overflowed his toilet, plunged his toilet, cleaned the bathroom floor, washed the bathroom rugs and took a long hot shower, I made it all better with a bit of fellatio followed by my riding him and tiny o for me but what sounded like a decent O! for him. Then we did the after-fuck shuffle, which I have mastered as to avoid post coitus semen spillage. I go onto my back and take him with me then QUICKLY get mopped up or off of any porous fabric.

K- that's all for now, gotta get in a quick workout and buy snacks for date with Colleen.