Dear Diary;
Not sure if this living so close to the main office is gonna work out after all. Since I’ve moved in, Jorge’s been showing up for dinner. Every freaking night. The kitchen staff’s now automatically adding a place setting for him. It’s really starting to piss me off.

No shit – the ass wipe saunters in at 5:45 right on the nose, grabs a cold one outta the fridge without even asking, parks his fat ass in my La Z Boy man-chair and starts right in with the work questions. How would you handle the demands of the foreign diplomats, Bennie? What is your opinion on the male-only priesthood, Bennie? Should I wear the gold lamé mozzetta at Friday Mass, Bennie? What’s a five-letter word that rhymes with vagina, Bennie? He also chews with his mouth open… makes me wanna bitch-slap him halfway to the Sistine Chapel…

I just wish he’d go the hell home and tell it to his Twitter followers. I’m missing Honey Boo Boo, for crap’s sake!