I am pissed right now. VERY PISSED. You want to know why? Because Eben never took care of the rent stuff. He's had AT LEAST a week to call them and take care of it, but what happens? After being gone for 15 fucking minutes with only my debit card, driver's license, and keys, I come home to find something covering the door knob so I can't get in. No cell phone, no purse, nothing, nada.

So what happens? I drive in 5 o'clock traffic through the Galleria (worst traffic in town) to his office, have the receptionist who is already leaving come back in and call him, go to where he's supposed to be in the building, but he's gone. I thank her and leave, thinking that since he left before me, he'll be there when I get back...wrong. I call my dad collect (oh yea, it's getting fun now) so he comes and gets me, I follow him in my car, he pays for my gas because I don't have enough money to put gas in my car, and drive back to my house. And of course, Eben still doesn't have a cell phone, I don't know his pager number, and he never has the house line plugged in so even if he did call the apartment people to get a key to open it, he wouldn't answer the phone or check the messages. Ha! Of course, right. Of course when I was finally all happy and drunk, my buzz gets ruined driving over to his office, driving back, and then standing on the sidewalk, PRAYING he gets there before my dad does. Grrr...

Oh, and not to mention the palms of my hands feel like they're asleep and they're turning red. My dad says its from stress. Oh, what stress? The fact that the whole reason I was leaving the house was to get candy and laxatives? That when I got back, not only could I not get in, but I discover that my boyfriend went somewhere after work and didn't tell me, all while I'm so pissed I want to fucking punch someone, and I'm not even going to get into how they can repossess all MY shit even though I'm not on the lease, because hey, it was in the apartment and how could they not know it's not his?

And of course on top of all this, he's supposed to be leaving for Florida tomorrow, and I can guarantee tomorrow is going to going to be hectic trying to fucking track him down, not to mention I'm going to have to wake up around 7 in the morning to get to his office around the time he usually does, and try to be very calm so as not to make a bad impression...because trust me, I'm going to be thoroughly worked up by the next time I see him...and if I don't get a hold of him before he leaves tomorrow, as in he goes to the apartment and doesn't call me or anything, I'm going to rip him a new one. He also better not just be somewhere having a good time while I sit here stewing...because ooo trust me, you don't want to be him right now if that's the case.

And, to add to this, I'm just happy the ball on my tongue ring is clear and my dad has bad vision, because then I'd be in even deeper shit right now. My mom's getting back from our soon-to-be demolished beach house tomorrow around noon, at which time my dad will get my account number and deposit the money...aye, aye...of course he gave me $20 because he didn't want me to be COMPLETELY broke before the check went through...you know he asked me how much money I've given Eben? It's probably somewhere around $200 if you count 2 times that I paid for everything at the clubs...but hmm let's see...he's the one paying the rent (well SUPPOSED to be), sometimes for groceries, paid for my tattoo, and is of course paying $2700 for the car accident I had in his car. Can't tell my dad that though...ouch. So, Eben has his reasons, but said he still had enough to pay the rent in his account, which the morons at the apartment complex should already fucking know...and the amount he owes is completely random! Almost $200 more than the actual rent! It's bullshit. This is all fucking bullshit.

You know what? I'm going to drive over there and see if his car is there (unless my dad advises me otherwise...and I will listen to him because he's being so helpful and amazing right now) so I can A. yell at someone, and B. I feel really fucking weird spending the night at my parent's house.

Anyway, I'm done. I'm glad I could supply you with and entry that did not involve self-pity, food, sex problems, or any other bullshit I usually talk about...back to your regularly scheduled diaries.