3/X/26

this is the store where the indians scammed me. they call the cashier guy "fingernail", people in the neighborhood do. his b.o. is awful, sometimes when he looks at me i think he wants to sodomize me. i used to go and get two 40 ounce bottles of olde english about every day, he raised the price and i shrugged and kept going. then one day that asshole charged me twice on the same charge, a couple days later me and my mom went up to confront him but he acted like he couldn't speak english. he'd somehow smudged the online receipt with the bank to make it look like i'd been to the store on a day when i hadn't. fuck him, i would go to that store every other day and he does this to me! who does he think he is! gonna have to find a new place to get my olde english, otherwise im never going there again. he also made a comment about the amount of money in my bank account. fucking creep, fuck you fingernail.

my mom broke her nail in the drain. for some reason my mom getting hurt is the funniest thing ever to me, of course i feel bad, but i also think it's funny. ever since i was a kid, like 5 years old, my mom would get these really bad cramps in her legs and she'd be on the floor doubled over in pain and i'd just be standing there laughing at her. what the fuck is wrong with me.

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