Sometimes it's ok to curse at small children.

Be happy for me, people. I got my insurance approval, and November 5th I am having my surgery. I am so excited for all the changes that are coming. I can't wait!!

Someone emailed me after reading my entry the other day about my frustration in waiting for my approval. And, he pointed out that I am what's wrong with society today, and the very reason I am having this surgery is the reason I am overweight: my laziness. I understand that people have opinions, and they're entitled to them. But I don't need to hear that kind of bullshit, especially when this giant dickhole knows nothing about me except a bunch of rambling nonsense in some online diary.

I don't need to defend myself to anyone, let alone this asstard. If I know you, then you can lay it on me. But I don't. So, dear sir, take your opinion and kindly fuck off.

This guy made me cranky, dammit.

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The Hot Egyptian was somewhat irate when I told him I would be having surgery. My body was what he was first attracted to, and says that he doesn't know if he'll still be "as attracted" to me if I lose a ton of weight. For fuck's sake, man. I can't win with these men. I am beginning to think all the guys I see are getting together and conspiring to make me go fucking crazy, because I have been steadily stressed out this whole week because of them. Bastards.

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Is it wrong to call a little kid an asshole to his face? I mean, if you're in an elevator, and some yappy kid is pushing EVERY SINGLE BUTTON (repeatedly), screaming at the top of his lungs while his moronic mother chats away on her cell phone, is it wrong? Well, today I did just that. I couldn't help it. I love kids, but I can not deal with the ones who don't know how to act civilized. And that kid just wouldn't stop. When I got in, and tried to push the button for my floor, he screams out, "I am the elevator man! I am the only one to push the button!"

Fine.

"Ok, I need three, please."

He stands there. In front of the stupid buttons, not pushing shit.

"Three. Please. Thanks."

Mom is still yacking it up on the cell phone, not even looking at her evil little being. The elevator is not moving, and I am blowing through my lunch break, so I say, "Push the three, you little asshole. I am in a hurry." Ok, maybe it's wrong to talk to a seven year-old like that, but I couldn't take anymore.

Do you think mom got off the fucking phone to stick up for her kid? Nope. Why would she? She wasn't even done telling whothefuckever about the new cashmere sweaters she bought at Nordstrom's. Christ. People like that should not reproduce.

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Tomorrow night I am going out with a friend of a friend, which I am nervous about. I have met him a couple of times, but always at parties, and usually one (or both) of us are drunk. Sober Andria is not quite the same as the Andria who has had a few shots of Patron. Boy, is this guy going to be in for a surprise.

Sigh. Wish me luck.