This one's a little longer... be happy, 'kay? These are diary entries. I can't make them longer. Sorry. Peace out!

Fourth entry

September 8th, Wednesday, 6:17 PM

Dear diary,

GAHHH! I CANNOT BELIEVE IT! FUCK THIS SHIT! UGH! FUCK YOU ALL, I'LL KILL YOU ALL ONE DAY ANYWAY!

…

OK, here's the long story short: I GOT FIRED FROM THE PIZZA BAR! WHAT THE FUCKEDY HELL! And before you start all like 'Guess you fucked up a great deal', I assure you, it was TOTALLY not my fault!

As I was saying, I got hired as a waiter and all was going well. I took the customers' orders, passed them on to the cook, got their food, gave it to the customers, collected money (I even got tips!) and helped clean up the tables later. I had to wear a tux lol. That was, like, hilarious. Haha. Not so funny anymore, though.

And everything seemed to be going just fine today as well – until a group of drunkards staggered in. Oh Jesus Christ, they yelled, they smelled – you get the picture. It was awful! There was about seven of them. And OF COURSE, I was the one assigned to take their orders. Thank you very much! I hate you too, fucking hags of hell working in that bar!

Ok, so they – the drunkards - couldn't make up their minds on their orders and their attention was easy to drift, so after a few minutes, the menus lay under the table all but forgotten and suddenly, I was in the spotlight! WTF! They were tugging on my clothes and going all like 'are you single?', 'how much for a blowjob?', 'can I have the number of the brothel you work in?'. FUCKING ASSHOLES! I'M NOT A FUCKING WHORE! Geezus CHRIST! I'm getting all worked up all over again just at the memory!

Now, don't get me wrong – I TRIED being all professional and mature about it. But it didn't work out so well. When one of them grabbed my ass, I slapped him and told him to go fuck his blind dog. And that was exactly the moment my boss passed by. Fuck My Life. No, seriously, fuck it and burn it, cause I don't want it.

I didn't even get paid for the work I'd done that day! It's a miracle the boss didn't kiss me in the ass when throwing me out! He was... yeah, he was furious. So now I'm broke. But I'm guessing this doesn't surprise you.

Once again, I called Tsunade. And guess what? (You, diary: What?) She yelled at me! Whoa! Bet you didn't saw THAT coming! Called me names… moron, retard, brat. Oh Jesus. I kind of… hate her for that. I KNOW that she's the reason any of this – my apartment, my studies in the uni – is possible, but couldn't she be at least a TINY bit more understanding and compassionate? C'mon, I TOLD her it WASN'T my fault! THEY WERE DRUNK BASTARDS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! THEY TREATED ME LIKE A WHORE! Which isn't very nice, btw.

But I got another 20 bucks! Tadaa! That's the bright side! And she told me to get a new job quickly and that she doesn't give a rat's ass what kind of a job it is. Oh wow, fantastic. See how caring and motherly she is? GAHH FUCKING BITCH!

Sigh. Oh right, I haven't really told you anything about her yet. Well, I guess I have told a little, but yeah… Ok, she's THE farthest you could imagine from a mother figure. If you want to draw parallels between her and someone, I advise you to pick a general or… a general. Yeah, she pretty much acts like one.

She never comforts or tries to sugar coat a hurtful fact, she gives it to you straight. Probably a good thing when you're an adult, but not so much when you're a five-year old, whose dog got run over by a truck. Twice. By the same truck when it was backing.

I still miss Snoopy. I knew she always hated him.

Tsunade doesn't like dogs one bit, only cats. She has a cat. The furball's name is Malachi. Ugly, I know. She's the breed that could be described as way-too-furry-and-puffy and way-too-much-everything. Also, her face looks like it got hit flat with a frying pan. That's our beauty!

Oh, right, so I had to describe Tsunade. I've already mentioned that she's a doctor and gets paid really well. But the sacrifice is her free time – she rarely has any of that. She was home very seldom and I spent most of my time alone in the big house. Guess where my antisocialism comes from. This, though, is not something I blame her for. She did her best.

Looking back now, I can't say she was the most horrible person to live with… Better than a sociopath. A shit load better. She was very strict… and still is. Why am I using the past tense again?

Sigh. I still gotta find myself a job. Almost forgot…

Um…

I'm gonna go out and see whether I can get another newspaper… maybe there are some lying on the ground at the bus station... since, y'know, I'm broke and can't even afford to buy a newspaper. Life's great.

Later,

Deidara

PS! Song of the day – Undead (by Hollywood Undead)

Lyrics of the day:

That shit's as worse as it gets, this verse is over, I quit!

Signed Charlie Scene on your girlfriend's tits!

My version:

Signed Deidara I. on your boyfriend's dick!