Don't Tell Your Mom the Babysitter Was in My Bed

"Fuck my life." I muttered as I exited my work building. Well, my ex-work building. My jobs were as exciting as my love life. I couldn't keep one more than a week or so.

It's not me, it's you. I thought as I slammed the door of the building shut. It was the shittiest, most boring job I'd ever had so I had to do something to get myself fired. Getting fired was better than quitting, my mother once told me.

You should've seen the look on Ronnie's (my boss') face when he read what I printed in the paper.He told me that I could've gotten serious jail time if I wasn't a girl. He thought I was just stupid, I guess. I shrugged it off as I got into my Jeep - the one that I was lucky enough to afford - and drove back to my apartment.

I unlocked my door quickly and stormed inside, excited to get my cook on. I was a cooker. I cook when I get fired or when I'm upset, or aggravated.

"Fired again, huh Lacey?" My friend, Amber asked me as I walked into the kitchen. She was sitting there sipping on some coffee.

"Hell yeah. Good thing your parents are fucking rich or we'd be homeless by now." I told her, giving her a smirk. My friend knew me like the back of her hand. She nodded and sat her coffee down.

"You know, they won't put up with our shit for long, we gotta start holdin' our own." She told me before throwing a rolled up newspaper at me. It hit me in the face and fell to the floor.

"Bitch! What the hell was that for?" I cursed at her.

"I saw what you wrote in it." She told me, giggling a bit.

"Yeah, wasn't it beautiful?" I sarcastically asked her, opening up the cabinet and pulling out a box of brownies.

"Oh, yes." She told me, picking her coffee back up and taking another sip.

"So, when are we going job hunting?" I asked her. It would be the 2nd time we have been job hunting this week.

Hey, don't judge me. Amber can't keep a job either. We're shitty workers.

"Fuckin' tomorrow." She answered shortly.

I poured the brownie mix into a bowl and added a 1/2 cup of oil, 1/4 cup of water and 2 eggs. I was stirring it when Amber spoke again.

"My brother want us to go to a fucking concert with him tomorrow." She told me, blowing on her coffee. I smirked.

"Why the hell would he want us to go?" I still stirred the brownies.

"He doesn't have a ride." She stated, shrugging her arms.

"Oh, I see. I guess he forgot all about the time he hooked me up with a fucking STALKER!" I exaggerated the word 'stalker'.

"Well, that wasn't his fault. He didn't know the guy was gonna follow you places." She stood up for him.

"Oh sure. He hates my fucking guts, anyway." I was now pouring the brownies into a glass pan.

"No he doesn't. He just has issues with your language."

"Uh, yeah, he does. And I'm not the only one who has 'language'." I said, lacking a better way to explain my vulgar language. She just shrugged again.

"Alright, we'll go, as long as it's not a pussified band." I agreed.

"It's some band called Avenged Sevenfold."