I fucking HATE him

Dipshit. I know...really, I do. But when I'm redundant beyond belief, just remember that this is pretty much my diary, and you're just being a voyeur. I canNOT stand a second that I am in his presence; I really don't know how I haven't just dissolved into tears, though I felt close about a half hour ago. I already established the horseshit way I've felt today, and his every move tonight has only added to my misery.

Let's recap...well, let's start with the simple fact that he hasn't gone OUT. So he's BEEN HERE. I went out for an hour to Pathmark, just to get the fuck away from him. And this is what he's done to annoy me beyond belief...watching the Phillies game on his computer, WOOTing and CLAPPING; watching lacrosse on his computer; talking out loud to himself about God knows what; uttering his patented HEHs when something's struck him funny; nauseating my already queasy stomach by making popcorn; engaging in animated work phonecalls; capping it all off with a cellphone call to his "babe"...who -- ICING on the motherFUCKING cake -- I am deeply fearful will be "coming up" tomorrow for the 2nd time in 2 weeks after overhearing him asking "what time does your train get in?"

I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. I am teetering on the edge of fucking insanity like Jack Nicholson in THE SHINING. Oh, I can't forget engaging me in pointless conversation about hockey and Artie Lange's quitting the Howard Stern Show. Jesus fucking Christ, WHY did I ever let him move in with me?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?! Life is too short for this. He has ZERO concept of how to fucking be quiet -- to sit there in peace...to NOT talk out loud...to put on headphones...to text...to NOT make endless phonecalls. He's like a fucking wind-up doll, spinning and moving and talking and blinking. I HATE NOISE!! Deep breath. Deep breath. I am counting down the weekends till he's GONE every weekend at his beach house...including this one, 6 more to go...6 more to go, Gary...6 more to go...6...6...6...