It's Fucking French Toast!

I think Dave, also known as my boss and my mom's boyfriend, has gone off the deep end.

As my previous blog says, I was supposed to make my mom breakfast this morning for Mother's Day. Obviously, that didn't happen. We decided that I'd just make dinner instead.

While my mom was talking to Dave on the phone, she mentioned that I was going to cook dinner tonight. Dave went Joan Crawford on her ass. He later called me, and went Joan Crawford on my ass.

"I specifically told you that I didn't want you cooking in my house," he says.

This is true. Who in their right mind would take this seriously though?! It's not as though he was worried I might burn his house down. It's all because he does not like the smell of food in his house. Funny how he is out of town. And it's fucking French toast for God's sake.

Dude needs to get a grip, chill out, and stop being crazy, because this is making me crazy. I'd have to say this was an appropriate ending to this weekend though, considering it had to have been the most interesting weekend of my life.

Ugh. I just need to take two Ambien and go to bed. I hope Mr. TDH calls me tonight; not sure when he gets off work though. Talking to him would definitely brighten my day/night.

♥