I ended up bombing the apartment, and we will bomb it again today, just to make sure. Because, y’know, walking around with little red bumps and scabs all over my body isn’t exactly attractive.
I was moving my flat screen into my apartment the other night when we happened to walk through a cat fight which was AWESOME. They weren’t really scrappin’, but it was definitely heading in that direction. The best part? The fight was between one 11 year old girl with her mother, and about 4 other 11 year old girls and their mother.
“My momma says I can’t hang out with messy people and you’s messy.”
“You have no right to say things about people you hardly know.”
“My MOMMA says YOU’S messy, my momma KNOWS whose messy and whose ISN’T.”
“I am NOT messy.
“YES, you IS.”
And the whole time I am standing there with my dad holding a 48 inch flat screen trying to get through to the stairs. Both mothers are standing behind their respective children with hands on their hips glaring at me like I was purposely standing there listening to the argument. Like, “HELLO this is a private bitch fest, who invited YOU?” So me and my dad awkwardly shuffle between them with the large TV while the girls are still screaming at each other about who is messy and who doesn’t shower twice a day.
The entire time I was thinking, well God. I have fleas. THAT’S why I have no friends. ‘Cause I’s messy.