what good curse can you throw?

I'm drunk and salty (read: sassy and profane) tonight, so bear with me. I pretty much told off a bunch o' jerks from my past, and I'm feeling good. What a week. It seemed like it was going to be good, but then it trainwrecked; it evened out, in a trainwrecky way (hard to explain; bear with me), and here I am, drunk and blogging and angry.

I was actually in a surprisingly good mood for much of this week; even now, I feel vaguely like I should be in a much worse mood. I fully planned on spending tonight on my couch, plucking my eyebrows in a desultory way and eating pizza. The best laid plans of mice and men.... I ended up at a pub in midtown Toronto, wearing a dress and being drunk and saying 'fuck' a lot. A LOT. And I only feel a third as bad as perhaps I should.

My hours at work have been cut for no apparent reason (other than the fact that we've hired some unnecessary new staff), and I'm no longer able to go to the Xmas party. Yesterday (Friday) I found out that the restaurant will NOT be closing early for the party (which is Sunday), which means, basically, that I can't go. How they can justify telling us poor Sunday closers that we'd be able to go, and then taking it away at the last minute is beyond me, but there you have it.

Today, Jo and I had a horrible shopping day. I usually spend my Saturdays sleeping, so just being awake and up and about was rough; spending it getting a nerve-wracking haircut and traipsing around the Eaton's Centre (on a weekend during the holiday season) made it that much rougher. I was letting Lindz and Jo get ready for their various social engagements at my place, since it was a halfway point, and then I was going to watch some shitty tv and call it a night. After some drama which I don't care to blog about, I ended up wearing the shortest dress I own and knocking back a few before ending up at a birthday party for a guy (who I'd drunkenly fooled around with a few years back), thrown by his girlfriend who I'm pretty sure doesn't like me. Amongst the invitees: a guy who'd fucked around hardcore with one of my best buds and refused to return her phone calls when all she wanted was her dvds back (and thinks he's hot shit because he bartends at fucking RED LOBSTER and gave ME attitude because he thinks he knows what's in a Tom Collins better than I do... ASSHOLE--did I mention he's been in the service industry for what, six months? Also, RED LOBSTER. ASSHOLE.), another guy who only talks to me and mine when he thinks he can get a favour (otherwise we're chopped liver), his girlfriend (who suits him to a tee... draw your own conclusions), and a bunch of other jerks who I did not care to see (and, luckily, didn't show up).

Did I mention that I wasn't invited? Anyway, I drank a whole lot and made fun of everyone, and it felt really good. Not a complete waste of an evening, but I really wish I hadn't been compelled to go. Now I'm drunk and belligerent, and I want to swear at someone else.