Srsly... If the headphones are on... I'm probably not interested in what you have to say, "you" being my booker. I don't want to look at your belly dancing video, I don't want to hear about your weekend at the renaissance fair, I will not die if I go on living life not knowing that your dad only drank Guinness at previously mentioned fair and you had to pay for it all.

While I'd like to blame PMS and my headache, which is slowly going away, I know they are only agitating the disliking of this booker and are not the reason I dislike her. Even when my mood is balanced and headaches are nowhere to be found, I still don't want to be bothered if the headphones are on.

It's not that I'm watching something fascinating on Hulu or youtube, it's that I want to be left alone. Besides, you're the one who originally decided that we "should keep our relationship professional and not be friends anymore". Of course, you recanted that decision a number of times, but unlike you, we (my boyfriend, cousins, and I) have matured past the age of 12 and we don't like the game playing, the random ass grabbing at the bar, and we especially hate the bipolar outbursts.

I don't hate my booker. I really don't. She is a special part of our money making machine that helps pay my bills. I just dislike her as a human being quite a bit. I dislike that she got drunk and gave my boyfriend a hicky on Cinco De Mayo. I dislike that she cheats on her boyfriend with most every person she meets. I dislike that she's a spoiled child, emphasis on child. I do like that she books calls for me to make money at. That part about her is pretty cool. Otherwise, I like her about as much as I like herpes, which is to say not unless she's plaguing someone else with her psychosis.

But anywho... Unless there's tits involved (someone else's, not yours), I really have no interest in what you have to say, dear booker... so please take a hint and let me play sudoku and listen to Styx in peace.