Fat itchy cow.

I am a fat itchy cow.

I keep breaking out in hives, drinking a lot, and eating my weight in crap food. Bethany Beergut is back in action. I haven't seen that bitch in three years and here she is, silently mocking me by spilling over the top of my pajama pants.

I'm trying to be positive, but if saying "Hey, I can still see my vag!" is the best I can come up with then I. have. problems.

So, what am I going to do about it? Easy. Bitch and moan.

I still haven't heard anything about the job. Mags keeps saying he and Red are working out the timing. I totally believe him, but I can't take it anymore. The vibe between Soaps and I is so fucking toxic (sans Britney) that all I care about is moving upstairs as soon as possible. I'm not good in negative environments. I become a fat itchy cow.

I talked to my mom earlier to blow off some steam. She's been really supportive, especially since she transferred within her company a few years ago and understands how annoying it can be. I think she sums up the frustration with this comment:

"I know how you feel, Thighs. When I was waiting to transfer, all I wanted to do was bring in a rifle and blow their fucking balls off."

The apple most certainly does not fall far from the tree, folks.

Here's an impromptu sing-a-long: (sang to Farmer in the Dell)

Fat itchy cow.
Fat itchy cow.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
Fat itchy cow.

The cow has an itch.
The cow has an itch.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The cow has an itch.

The itch wants a beer.
The itch wants a beer.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The itch wants a beer.

The beer makes you fat.
The beer makes you fat.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The beer makes you fat.

The fat wants some lovin'.
The fat wants some lovin'.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The fat wants some lovin'.

The lovin's enjoyed alone.
The lovin's enjoyed alone.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The lovin's enjoyed alone.