Why is it that, when you give people all the room in the world, they come a sit right fucking next to you. And then they talk on their phones or make a lot of noise or get everyone else to come sit with them so they can gossip and talk shit and have serious discussions about who bought what scarf where and when they are going to wear it. I fucking hate people. Do they not see me sitting here, all serious with my books and my coffee and my face, clearly trying to get something done?! Are they trying to torture me, or are they actually oblivious to the fifteen other chairs in the area farthest away from me? Do they enjoy the hostile vibes I am sending their way? People suck. Anyway, that wasn't what I was planning to write about when I sat down, the inspiration to just hit me suddenly. About as suddenly as the chill in the air emanating from my general area hit the bitch that just took her phone conversation somewhere else. Seriously, chick, there are literally fifteen other cha...
A True Crime Blog set in the Bloody Pacific Northwest