grr.

[thejunipertree]

My head is full of irritation.

The Priest They Call Him was supposed to come over for dinner this evening, per my mother's invitation sent through me-as-proxy.

I never heard from him yesterday, so I emailed him a little while ago to see what was shaking and when could we expect him.

I get back a message saying that one of his kids (he works for a youth advocate program that handles kids with issues) is going through suicide ideation and TPTCH thinks that the evening may be longer than previously thought and could he have a raincheck.

*sighs*

I'm a bit cheesed about this, because when did he think he was going to tell me? I found out around four o'clock. Dinner is due at six. I'm pissed and feeling like a bitch for being pissed in the first place.

I love TPTCH, but he can be so flakey when it comes to plans. Suicidal kid or not. I'm never quite sure if he's just going to ditch and never call.

Now my hands smell like garlic and I've got this huge, stupid pork roast in the oven.

Who wants to come over for dinner?

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[eianorange.livejournal.com]

all us spoiled amerikan veggies need a few days in a third world nation, we'd be lickin the slime off of slabs of gristle