Gaffer was going to be home at about 9. He asked me if I wanted to play Halo 2 with him tonight. I agreed.

It is now 11:29. He called at 10:40, and hour and three quarters late, but I was in the bathtub, and he didn't leave a message.

Now it's two and a half hours later and still no word, nor hide nor hair.

I'm so fucking pissed off it's not even funny. I have busted my butt for that guy. I helped him move twice, I took him in when his other plans failed, I've driven him all over hell's halfacre, I've dragged my x-box down to his film-school to keep him company while his film took the ten collective hours to render. I have driven him to whistler a thousand times, I'm driving him up there again tomorrow so he can apply for jobs.

I've made him jello, cooked him eggs, fixed his shorts, washed his dirty fucking clothes, the list of things I have done for him is endless.

And he can't even fucking call me at nine to say he's not going to be home after all, or not going to be home until very late, or something of the sort.

I'm such a fucking chump it's not funny.