Treatment dictating behavior

It's been a full day of being misunderstood. Last night, I made a comment towards Candy, saying she was having a good butt day. I was complimentary and I was being cute. Her response: "Don't tell me things like that. You should know not to say things like that to me."

At times, I unwittingly step out of the role of boyfriend and am relegated to roommate status. It happens at the drop of a hat, and, much like earthquakes, can only be detected by the cats suddenly running out of the room.

Later, after going to bed, I try to bite my tongue and just let it go. It was bad enough that a serious nic-fit was coming on. Candy opened the pillow talk with "How're the cravings?" Ugh...

We chit-chat for a bit, and trail off into silence. I stare at the wall, trying not to crack under the pressure to have some nicotine. I jump out of bed and go for a walk and a piece of nicotine gum. I get home after a half-hour and crash hard.

This morning was what I was dreading since I left work yesterday. Everything the other artist screwed up on was supposed to be griped at this morning, which meant I was gonna be yelled it by proxy. But, NOTHING! She barely got a slap on the wrist! If I had screwed things up like that, My ass would've been chewed up and spit out in a heartbeat. A bit unfair, don't ya think?

This event set up my mood for the day. I was pissed all day. To top things off, one of my co-workers burnt a bag of microwave popcorn and decided to bring it into my office...I hate popcorn with a vengeance, and the fact that my sense of smell has come back in full force, so needless to say I was tweaking.

SO, everyone I encountered today was pretty much calling me an asshole. Well, I guess today I am.

Here's a pic that says it all for me today.