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I'm not sure how much more excitement I can take if things keep going the way they are. I really was so close, ready to pop that little shithead, and then... I can't even say it. This week blew, my friends. Blew like Mount St. Helens. It blew like Old Faithful. Shit, it blew like Tara Hedden at prom. I can't go into details because, you know... blah, blah the investigation is ongoing. But really, I can't go into details because when I think about them, I get so effing pissed, I want to... well, I want to do some damage. I might blow like Mount St. Helens or Old Faithful (I got nothing on Tara though -- she had a talent).
I know my wife's been reading these entries looking for "secrets" as to what's been going on (that last bit was special for her, too -- love you baby!). In a sense, I guess it's good -- saves me telling the story more than once. And I tell you what -- the decrease in the level o' nag is pretty freakin' nice too. I get she's curious, believe me... she makes George there look like a pathetic amateur, but it gets very old, very fast. I mean, I got her on a need-to-know basis. Some shit... she just doesn't need to know. So anyway, if you're looking for answers babe, it's best to move on. There's no way in hell I'm getting into details today. I just gotta vent and get this crap out of my system.
I mean, what do I have to do to catch a break here? I got this pissant little shitweasel somehow running circles around me. I've got him trapped, literally, and he gets the better of me. I feel like a schmuck. And the bastard's probably just laughing at me right now. God, what I wouldn't give...
I gotta take it down a level, I know. But, believe me, I will get this kid. He can't hide forever...