- Talk about weaves. Other bitches and they weaves, their own personal woes with their weaves. Just can't get that shit to stay flat? That's probably because it's not real hair. Not entirely sure why your bedroom door has to be open for that conversation.
- Talk about their savings accounts and how fast their money is disappearing. Remember this, as it comes back later.
- Come out in the kitchen and open the fridge, point to everything and talk about how much it cost. $2.99 for sausage? Glad I don't give a shit.
- Proceed to pull out said sausages and begin cooking dinner. At midnight.
- Decide that it's entirely too cold for them in the living room that they never spend any time in, and proceed to walk over, and turn the heat up to the highest possible setting. You know, the one that is comparable to the temperature in hell.
- Go on a rant about how they will never eat organic food, because they like salt too much. Also because they ain't givin' up mama's pot roast, uh-uh. They will STAY with their blubber. Okay, last time I checked, going organic isn't like going on weight watchers.
- Apparently sausages aren't enough, so they need to start making fries and scrambled eggs to go with it. Seriously, at this point, you're about 8 hours early for breakfast.
So after drowning my sorrows in ice cream, I decided that it was finally time to leave when as I was typing the word "task," it came out "taks."