The swine flu/ebolla/rabies is still going strong. I took my only sick day yesterday and my husband was an asshole all day and wouldn't let me sleep. He kept running in and out of the house, making the dogs bark like hell and waking me up. I asked him not to, but he doesn't listen to me. Because he is an asshole.
He picked Lu up early (another asshole move) and she decided to act like an asshole also. Turning the light on, waking me up to ask me where the water is (the water, for fuck's sake, is in the faucet where it always is) and just overall bothering the bejesus out of me.
I am very cranky when I'm sick, but not if I'm left alone. Here are some examples of why I was as mean as a stepped on rattlesnake last night. Each one of these times he woke me up to say this shit.
Dickhead Todd: Are you hungry? I'm hungry, why don't you get up and fix us something to eat.
Dickhead Todd: I need a haircut sometime tonight.
Dickhead Todd: You asleep?
Dickhead Todd: You awake? You still sick?
Dickhead Todd: That laundry isn't going to do itself, you know!
Let's not forget when he started the weed eater in front of the open bedroom window. He just wanted to "see if it worked". That is the kind of dickery he pulls. After that I told him that if I had the strength to pick up a ball bat I would hit him with it. He acted like he had NO idea why I should be mad.
I can't wait until he is sick. I'm going to start a one woman band with pots and pans, harmonica, drums, bells and a pitch pipe. I'll play it all night long, like Lionel Richie, baby.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
Assholes. Plus I have the swine flu probably.
Obviously I made it back from St.Louis, miracle of miracles. I made it back to a house in which everyone was sick. Everyone being Lu and my hubby. They have the real flu, I suppose. Fever, weak, cranky, etc. I was up each night all night because I was afraid Lu would get too hot, she also needed medicine. Every cough I was up. So I got zero sleep, which makes me a very cranky individual.
Saturday morning Todd and Lu were asleep, both with fevers and lo and behold people keep coming over to our house. It aggravates me so bad when people come over without calling. I don't care who it is, you text or call to give advance warning. It's called manners!
Every time one of Todd's stupid friends would pull in the driveway our noisy little ankle-biting toy poodles would go nuts and wake Lu up. She would start whining and crying and I would be mad as hell. Three different sets of people showed up before noon on Saturday. Before noon!
If people weren't rudely showing up to my house they were calling. I turned the ringers off so that we could sleep. Since we didn't answer the phone people would come knocking on the door saying "I called, but you didn't answer." No shit, sherlock. Perhaps there was a reason? That reason was I didn't want to see any one's face this weekend.
Yesterday same thing, some people showed up at 9:30am! Since time changed that was actually 8:30am. Do me a favor so that you aren't a total asshole. Don't just show up at people's houses. If they don't answer the phone, don't go over. It is so fucking rude. I hate it. Biggest pet peeve of mine hands down. Someone thinking they can just show the fuck up whenever they want. Reasons why:
1.) I have to scramble and put pants on. Asshole.
2.) I don't want to see your asshole face or I would have called and asked you to come over.
3.) You might wake me up. Asshole. Or worse, wake Lu up.
I am really weak and shaky today, no appetite, headache. I think I have caught the swine flu from them. I didn't have a fever when I left for work but now I'm pretty sure you can fry an egg on my head. I'm not going home, because it takes me an hour to get to work and I'm already here. Plus Todd and Lu are still home today both sick and I'm sick of them being sick and acting like assholes.
Saturday morning Todd and Lu were asleep, both with fevers and lo and behold people keep coming over to our house. It aggravates me so bad when people come over without calling. I don't care who it is, you text or call to give advance warning. It's called manners!
Every time one of Todd's stupid friends would pull in the driveway our noisy little ankle-biting toy poodles would go nuts and wake Lu up. She would start whining and crying and I would be mad as hell. Three different sets of people showed up before noon on Saturday. Before noon!
If people weren't rudely showing up to my house they were calling. I turned the ringers off so that we could sleep. Since we didn't answer the phone people would come knocking on the door saying "I called, but you didn't answer." No shit, sherlock. Perhaps there was a reason? That reason was I didn't want to see any one's face this weekend.
Yesterday same thing, some people showed up at 9:30am! Since time changed that was actually 8:30am. Do me a favor so that you aren't a total asshole. Don't just show up at people's houses. If they don't answer the phone, don't go over. It is so fucking rude. I hate it. Biggest pet peeve of mine hands down. Someone thinking they can just show the fuck up whenever they want. Reasons why:
1.) I have to scramble and put pants on. Asshole.
2.) I don't want to see your asshole face or I would have called and asked you to come over.
3.) You might wake me up. Asshole. Or worse, wake Lu up.
I am really weak and shaky today, no appetite, headache. I think I have caught the swine flu from them. I didn't have a fever when I left for work but now I'm pretty sure you can fry an egg on my head. I'm not going home, because it takes me an hour to get to work and I'm already here. Plus Todd and Lu are still home today both sick and I'm sick of them being sick and acting like assholes.
Friday, March 9, 2012
I get carjacked by a crackhead and no one cares.
I'm taking my cousin Amber to StL airport tonight to pick up a "friend". She was in a mood this morning so I haven't yet given her my sexy rendition of her song...Amber and friend sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Also she probably would have punched me. I hope she gets some this weekend and it puts her in a good mood. Because HELLO AMBER, the only one who reads my blog, bitch, you need to cheer up. P.S. I <3 you!
Anyhoo I figure we will be killed. Something about me makes animals/people/objects want to attack. I think it is because they sense my epic awesomeness and know that they can never compare. This sends them into a spiral of self hatred they can't cope with. So they take out their lack of awesomeness on me. I'm used to it, I just bat my eyelashes and tell them they can't join my fan club. They can however join the "I hate Sondra" club, there are many card carrying members. They meet on Tuesday nights at the VFW. I sit in the parking lot drinking beer and flipping them the bird.
I should have brought one of Todd's many, many guns. These are the reasons I did not.
1. Scared to ask him. He would have been all "You would shoot someone!".
2. I would shoot someone.
3. I would be arrested for shooting someone. I'm too pretty for prison. Also, I'm a redhead and an orange jumpsuit would look terrible on me.
4. Someone has to raise my child, and that someone is going to be me. Her Dad raises her she will be a mess. Farting the tune to I'm sexy and I know it at the dinner table to entertain people. I shudder at the thought.
I received several big lectures last night from my husband, aka Debbie-Downer, or "You aren't my Dad you jackass." About me not drinking in StL because I would get a DWI on the way home, or wreck and kill people. No shit, sherlock. Instead of telling him I'm not fucking stupid I just smiled and said "Okay, honey. Thanks for caring!". I'm trying this new thing where I'm nice to him.
Instead of saying "Damnit! Why can't you put your fucking dishes in the fucking dishwasher!" I just smile and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Give me a month, I will explode and climb the town water tower with a high powered rifle.
So he was all "blah blah blah, really late when you get home, blah blah blah, if you come home drunk Sondra I swear to God!" I've told him if he would just talk about something interesting I wouldn't tune him out, he didn't so I don't remember the rest. He will probably call me one million times because he can't stand being without me. Being his Goddess is a hard job, and face it...I'm the only woman who can do it.
Well, if you don't ever hear from me again know that I think of each and every one of you fondly, except my co-workers. Those bitches can each fall down the stairs and knock out their two front teeth for all I care.
Anyhoo I figure we will be killed. Something about me makes animals/people/objects want to attack. I think it is because they sense my epic awesomeness and know that they can never compare. This sends them into a spiral of self hatred they can't cope with. So they take out their lack of awesomeness on me. I'm used to it, I just bat my eyelashes and tell them they can't join my fan club. They can however join the "I hate Sondra" club, there are many card carrying members. They meet on Tuesday nights at the VFW. I sit in the parking lot drinking beer and flipping them the bird.
I should have brought one of Todd's many, many guns. These are the reasons I did not.
1. Scared to ask him. He would have been all "You would shoot someone!".
2. I would shoot someone.
3. I would be arrested for shooting someone. I'm too pretty for prison. Also, I'm a redhead and an orange jumpsuit would look terrible on me.
4. Someone has to raise my child, and that someone is going to be me. Her Dad raises her she will be a mess. Farting the tune to I'm sexy and I know it at the dinner table to entertain people. I shudder at the thought.
I received several big lectures last night from my husband, aka Debbie-Downer, or "You aren't my Dad you jackass." About me not drinking in StL because I would get a DWI on the way home, or wreck and kill people. No shit, sherlock. Instead of telling him I'm not fucking stupid I just smiled and said "Okay, honey. Thanks for caring!". I'm trying this new thing where I'm nice to him.
Instead of saying "Damnit! Why can't you put your fucking dishes in the fucking dishwasher!" I just smile and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Give me a month, I will explode and climb the town water tower with a high powered rifle.
So he was all "blah blah blah, really late when you get home, blah blah blah, if you come home drunk Sondra I swear to God!" I've told him if he would just talk about something interesting I wouldn't tune him out, he didn't so I don't remember the rest. He will probably call me one million times because he can't stand being without me. Being his Goddess is a hard job, and face it...I'm the only woman who can do it.
Well, if you don't ever hear from me again know that I think of each and every one of you fondly, except my co-workers. Those bitches can each fall down the stairs and knock out their two front teeth for all I care.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Stfu Mariah.
It's not that I hate my co-workers. I just think they shouldn't get near me, or speak to me whatsoever at all. What do you expect? You throw a bunch of people together for at least eight hours a day that would never speak to each other in a normal setting. You are going to have some problems.
I have a nickname for all of them. For example Mariah Carey behind me. I work in a cubicle, ugh. Lu made a valentine for me and asked me to hang it up in my "office". I told her that I don't have an office, that I work in a 4x3 space where I don't even have room to turn around. She said "Why, Mama?" I said, "Because I didn't go to college, baby. Go to college or you will work in a cubicle." See, that is what makes me a good Mom. I turn everything into a life lesson.
I digress, back to Mariah Carey.
We listen to satellite radio. I hate the station with the passion of 1,000 fiery suns. It's called The Blend. It should be called The Whine. I hear Adele at least 15 times a day, the same damn song. I wish that bitch was rolling in the deep alright.
Mariah Carey behind me sings every fucking song. She puts her own spin on it by singing the last four words of every double damned verse. She doesn't know all the words, just the end of each verse. She hums the rest.
Hmmmm hmmmmm hmmmmm and breathe! Just breathe!
It is so super fucking annoying. At least 20 times a day I want to knock this cubicle wall behind me over and watch the whole works go down like dominoes. Just to shut her the fuck up.
Moral of the story? Don't be an annoying cunt-face and sing all during the work day. No one wants to hear that shit. The music is bad enough without your horrible wailing.
I have a nickname for all of them. For example Mariah Carey behind me. I work in a cubicle, ugh. Lu made a valentine for me and asked me to hang it up in my "office". I told her that I don't have an office, that I work in a 4x3 space where I don't even have room to turn around. She said "Why, Mama?" I said, "Because I didn't go to college, baby. Go to college or you will work in a cubicle." See, that is what makes me a good Mom. I turn everything into a life lesson.
I digress, back to Mariah Carey.
We listen to satellite radio. I hate the station with the passion of 1,000 fiery suns. It's called The Blend. It should be called The Whine. I hear Adele at least 15 times a day, the same damn song. I wish that bitch was rolling in the deep alright.
Mariah Carey behind me sings every fucking song. She puts her own spin on it by singing the last four words of every double damned verse. She doesn't know all the words, just the end of each verse. She hums the rest.
Hmmmm hmmmmm hmmmmm and breathe! Just breathe!
It is so super fucking annoying. At least 20 times a day I want to knock this cubicle wall behind me over and watch the whole works go down like dominoes. Just to shut her the fuck up.
Moral of the story? Don't be an annoying cunt-face and sing all during the work day. No one wants to hear that shit. The music is bad enough without your horrible wailing.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Hello Hypothermia!
Do you know what seriously sucks? Working with a bunch of menopausal overweight women. They freeze me to freaking death. It is 40 degrees outside. What temperature is it in this meat locker I call a workplace? 67 with the a.c. on! I can't stand it.
Why should I be punished because they have hot flashes? Here I sit, working in my coat. Goosebumps, hands trembling on the keyboard. Crouched low in my chair in front of my computer for warmth.
Why don't they just put ice packs in their armpits so the rest of us can work at a comfortable 70 degrees? It's complete bullshit. I sit right under the air vent and am blasted with freezing air all throughout the day. Do I take this sitting down? No, I retaliate. I turn the damn thermostat up every chance I get.
That's how I pass my day. They turn it down, I turn it up. I just turned it up to 70, and turned the air off. Sat down to write this post, and I'll be damned if the most menopausal bitch here didn't hop right up and turn it back to 67 and turn the air back on. What really makes this total dickery on her part is that SHE DOESN'T EVEN WORK IN MY AREA. That thermostat controls our area. Her office is on the other side of the building. She has her own damn thermostat. She walks through all the rest of the building periodically just turning down the fucking thermostats for when she walks through. Hello! We work at our desks all day, excuse the fuck out of me for not thinking your occasional walk through should be at a icy 67 degrees.
Just a thought, but perhaps if she kept her dick beaters off my thermostat I wouldn't have to waste company time by getting up every 2 minutes to turn it back up. She even asks us (the work in our coats gang) if it is "hot in here or just her". Every time we say it is just her. Does that dissuade her? No ma'am! She fucking turns it down anyway.
If you will excuse me, yet again I need to turn the thermostat up.
Why should I be punished because they have hot flashes? Here I sit, working in my coat. Goosebumps, hands trembling on the keyboard. Crouched low in my chair in front of my computer for warmth.
Why don't they just put ice packs in their armpits so the rest of us can work at a comfortable 70 degrees? It's complete bullshit. I sit right under the air vent and am blasted with freezing air all throughout the day. Do I take this sitting down? No, I retaliate. I turn the damn thermostat up every chance I get.
That's how I pass my day. They turn it down, I turn it up. I just turned it up to 70, and turned the air off. Sat down to write this post, and I'll be damned if the most menopausal bitch here didn't hop right up and turn it back to 67 and turn the air back on. What really makes this total dickery on her part is that SHE DOESN'T EVEN WORK IN MY AREA. That thermostat controls our area. Her office is on the other side of the building. She has her own damn thermostat. She walks through all the rest of the building periodically just turning down the fucking thermostats for when she walks through. Hello! We work at our desks all day, excuse the fuck out of me for not thinking your occasional walk through should be at a icy 67 degrees.
Just a thought, but perhaps if she kept her dick beaters off my thermostat I wouldn't have to waste company time by getting up every 2 minutes to turn it back up. She even asks us (the work in our coats gang) if it is "hot in here or just her". Every time we say it is just her. Does that dissuade her? No ma'am! She fucking turns it down anyway.
If you will excuse me, yet again I need to turn the thermostat up.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Happy Birthday Bitch! I'm stealin' your stuff.
Yesterday was my birthday!
I usually hate my birthdays. I'm getting old. Nothing good about that in my book.
I get up on Saturday, get dressed, cleaned a little. Normal day, except I got dressed. I usually spend the weekend in my pajamas. Don't judge! I take showers and change into different pajamas at least once a day.
Todd hustles Lu and I off in the jeep to make a circle. Making a circle means drive around aimlessly on back roads. Fun stuff ya'll.
I was pouting big time because he put meat on the smoker, which told me he was not taking me out to eat. I wanted to go to Walmart, nope. He didn't want to. I was being super nice, meanwhile wondering why I married this asshole.
We get back to the garage about 4:00 and there are a shit ton of cars there. Being my intelligent non-observant self I was pissed and wondering why they were having a party at MY HOUSE and didn't even invite me. Then I got it. It was probably Amber and the megaphone screaming "Happy Birthday Sondra! Get your ass out of the jeep I worked really hard on this!".
We partied. A lot. Charlotte bought me some awesome new wine, I got to taste it, went back for more and it was empty. My drunk ass friends drank it all up. Amber bought me 2 cases of beer, woo hoo! They know me well. Went to look for my beer, it was gone. My drunk ass friends drank it all up. I thought it quite hilarious when Charlotte asked Todd if we had wineglasses, he said no but that we had red solo cups.
Amber worked hard on a kit-kat cake. P.S. Fuck you pinterest, that shit is not easy and does not come out looking as pretty as the picture. I loved it though. Before I got a piece, several of my drunk ass friends knocked over the picnic table and my kit-kat cake hit the floor. They scooped it back in the pan but it just wasn't the same.
Amber bought me an awesome birthday wineglass, they had a Bloody Mary in it ready when I showed up. She knows me well. I drank my one drink, then my brother in law broke my birthday wine glass.
They made a bunch of food, it was wonderful. I had several pans of birthday cupcakes, and someone took them as well when they left.
Obviously you can't let my friends in anywhere, because they steal your birthday presents and break your shit. I love them though, wouldn't trade them or my family for the world. So that is why I'm going to be at their birthday parties, drinking up their alcohol and stealing their presents. If they don't have good presents I will be going through their fine china. Who am I kidding? Like my friends have china.
Super huge love to my favorite cousin in the world, Amber. Also the best husband in the world, Todd.
I usually hate my birthdays. I'm getting old. Nothing good about that in my book.
I get up on Saturday, get dressed, cleaned a little. Normal day, except I got dressed. I usually spend the weekend in my pajamas. Don't judge! I take showers and change into different pajamas at least once a day.
Todd hustles Lu and I off in the jeep to make a circle. Making a circle means drive around aimlessly on back roads. Fun stuff ya'll.
I was pouting big time because he put meat on the smoker, which told me he was not taking me out to eat. I wanted to go to Walmart, nope. He didn't want to. I was being super nice, meanwhile wondering why I married this asshole.
We get back to the garage about 4:00 and there are a shit ton of cars there. Being my intelligent non-observant self I was pissed and wondering why they were having a party at MY HOUSE and didn't even invite me. Then I got it. It was probably Amber and the megaphone screaming "Happy Birthday Sondra! Get your ass out of the jeep I worked really hard on this!".
We partied. A lot. Charlotte bought me some awesome new wine, I got to taste it, went back for more and it was empty. My drunk ass friends drank it all up. Amber bought me 2 cases of beer, woo hoo! They know me well. Went to look for my beer, it was gone. My drunk ass friends drank it all up. I thought it quite hilarious when Charlotte asked Todd if we had wineglasses, he said no but that we had red solo cups.
Amber worked hard on a kit-kat cake. P.S. Fuck you pinterest, that shit is not easy and does not come out looking as pretty as the picture. I loved it though. Before I got a piece, several of my drunk ass friends knocked over the picnic table and my kit-kat cake hit the floor. They scooped it back in the pan but it just wasn't the same.
Amber bought me an awesome birthday wineglass, they had a Bloody Mary in it ready when I showed up. She knows me well. I drank my one drink, then my brother in law broke my birthday wine glass.
They made a bunch of food, it was wonderful. I had several pans of birthday cupcakes, and someone took them as well when they left.
Obviously you can't let my friends in anywhere, because they steal your birthday presents and break your shit. I love them though, wouldn't trade them or my family for the world. So that is why I'm going to be at their birthday parties, drinking up their alcohol and stealing their presents. If they don't have good presents I will be going through their fine china. Who am I kidding? Like my friends have china.
Super huge love to my favorite cousin in the world, Amber. Also the best husband in the world, Todd.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Plan Hobo.
I was out of lunch ideas today.
I seriously need to do some grocery shopping.
I brought a can of kidney beans for lunch today. Light red kidney beans. Still in the can.
I thought to myself, this is a great idea! I can just open the can and voila! Lunch! What I didn't consider was that kidney beans by themselves suck. Terribly so.
My plan to completely weird out my co-workers is going well so far. I received some strange looks when I walked into the break room with my can o' kidney beans. I received some alarmed looks when I couldn't find the can opener and opened my can of beans with a steak knife.
What can I say? I'm a classy bitch.
Plan Turn Into a Hobo is almost complete. All I need is the bandanna and a stick.
On the plus side I'm pretty sure all my co-workers are whispering about me again. Also talking to me less, which makes me think this is going pretty damn well. If I had known they would leave me alone I would have washed my feet in the sink and brought cans of beans to work a long time ago!
I seriously need to do some grocery shopping.
I brought a can of kidney beans for lunch today. Light red kidney beans. Still in the can.
I thought to myself, this is a great idea! I can just open the can and voila! Lunch! What I didn't consider was that kidney beans by themselves suck. Terribly so.
My plan to completely weird out my co-workers is going well so far. I received some strange looks when I walked into the break room with my can o' kidney beans. I received some alarmed looks when I couldn't find the can opener and opened my can of beans with a steak knife.
What can I say? I'm a classy bitch.
Plan Turn Into a Hobo is almost complete. All I need is the bandanna and a stick.
On the plus side I'm pretty sure all my co-workers are whispering about me again. Also talking to me less, which makes me think this is going pretty damn well. If I had known they would leave me alone I would have washed my feet in the sink and brought cans of beans to work a long time ago!
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Another beer related injury.
I dropped a beer on my big toe. Now I have a huge black bruise on my big toe nail.
I made up a lovely song for it. Set to the beat of Cotton Eye Joe...
If it hadn't been for big black toe
I'd have worn sandals a long time ago
Where did you come from
Where did you go?
Oh yeah I dropped a beer on you
Big black toe
I was extremely bored yesterday driving an hour to and from work all aloney on my owney. My partner in crime aka my cousin, wimped out on me and stayed home from work.
Instead of having my usual entertainment I listened to the radio. Which sucks. I kept thinking of things to amuse her with, and couldn't. Because she wasn't beside me.
I'm really going to miss her next week, she is going to visit someone in another state. I don't know these people and am uncomfortable about her going. However, I'm not the boss of her.
I did tell her to let these people know that if she didn't return, I would come hunting her and/or avenge her kidnapping. In my fuzzy pink tinkerbell pajama pants with my shotgun.
You do not want to piss me off in my pajamas. I will cut a bitch. While tinkerbell looks on with a smile.
For the record I sung her my Big Black Toe song this morning and she didn't show the proper appreciation. Maybe I was wrong about her level of awesomeness. She is now on probation. Instead of clapping I got the look I get from most people. You know the look if you are as awesome as I am. The "are you freaking insane" look.
I am, but that has already been established.
I made up a lovely song for it. Set to the beat of Cotton Eye Joe...
If it hadn't been for big black toe
I'd have worn sandals a long time ago
Where did you come from
Where did you go?
Oh yeah I dropped a beer on you
Big black toe
I was extremely bored yesterday driving an hour to and from work all aloney on my owney. My partner in crime aka my cousin, wimped out on me and stayed home from work.
Instead of having my usual entertainment I listened to the radio. Which sucks. I kept thinking of things to amuse her with, and couldn't. Because she wasn't beside me.
I'm really going to miss her next week, she is going to visit someone in another state. I don't know these people and am uncomfortable about her going. However, I'm not the boss of her.
I did tell her to let these people know that if she didn't return, I would come hunting her and/or avenge her kidnapping. In my fuzzy pink tinkerbell pajama pants with my shotgun.
You do not want to piss me off in my pajamas. I will cut a bitch. While tinkerbell looks on with a smile.
For the record I sung her my Big Black Toe song this morning and she didn't show the proper appreciation. Maybe I was wrong about her level of awesomeness. She is now on probation. Instead of clapping I got the look I get from most people. You know the look if you are as awesome as I am. The "are you freaking insane" look.
I am, but that has already been established.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
V Day or Bust.
Happy Big Huge Waste of Money day!
I abhor Valentine's Day. As if a vase of overpriced wilted flowers and a heart shaped box of high fructose corn syrup will show someone you love them.
My husband shows me his love by putting up with my dickery each and every day. With only a small amount of wanting to strangle me until my baby blues pop right out of my head. Brace yourselves for this truth. I, dear readers, am not easy to live with.
I drink too much, cuss like a sailor, and have a horrid temper when provoked. The worst part of it? I have...naturally curly red hair.
I wake up each morning looking like Carrot Top on crack. With an attitude to boot. It may be the way he chooses to wake me up. With his face in mine saying "Woman, woman! Wake up! I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?" Then he proceeds to get angry with me for casting aspersions on his Mother's honor by questioning what exactly she bred with to create a man who gets up earlier than the Amish.
Today we have been together for 14-15 years. I forget which. I also don't give a hairy rat's ass about anniversaries. I am low maintenance. I don't even need presents. When he asked me this morning if I wanted something for Valentine's Day I told him I have all I need. Him, the dogs, my Lu. That is enough for me. After laughing until he choked I'm sure he slunk off to buy something for me. Which should be a bottle of wine and case of beer if he knows me as well as I think he does. I do buy Valentine presents for my Lu. She is seven years old and still excited about these kinds of things.
I'm not romantic. If faced with a trail of rose petals leading to my bedroom I would immediately run for the beer in the back refrigerator. Then proceed out the back door screaming that a pod person has taken my dear husband over and for the Love of Jeebus kill it quick!
That being said...Fuck Valentine's Day and all the bullshit that goes with it.
While my co-workers get flowers delivered all day I will be over here rolling my eyes because SURE he loves you! It has nothing at all to do with you popping his nuts like grapes if he doesn't send you a present today!
If Todd wants to show me he loves me how about he load the damn dishwasher before I get home?
I abhor Valentine's Day. As if a vase of overpriced wilted flowers and a heart shaped box of high fructose corn syrup will show someone you love them.
My husband shows me his love by putting up with my dickery each and every day. With only a small amount of wanting to strangle me until my baby blues pop right out of my head. Brace yourselves for this truth. I, dear readers, am not easy to live with.
I drink too much, cuss like a sailor, and have a horrid temper when provoked. The worst part of it? I have...naturally curly red hair.
I wake up each morning looking like Carrot Top on crack. With an attitude to boot. It may be the way he chooses to wake me up. With his face in mine saying "Woman, woman! Wake up! I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?" Then he proceeds to get angry with me for casting aspersions on his Mother's honor by questioning what exactly she bred with to create a man who gets up earlier than the Amish.
Today we have been together for 14-15 years. I forget which. I also don't give a hairy rat's ass about anniversaries. I am low maintenance. I don't even need presents. When he asked me this morning if I wanted something for Valentine's Day I told him I have all I need. Him, the dogs, my Lu. That is enough for me. After laughing until he choked I'm sure he slunk off to buy something for me. Which should be a bottle of wine and case of beer if he knows me as well as I think he does. I do buy Valentine presents for my Lu. She is seven years old and still excited about these kinds of things.
I'm not romantic. If faced with a trail of rose petals leading to my bedroom I would immediately run for the beer in the back refrigerator. Then proceed out the back door screaming that a pod person has taken my dear husband over and for the Love of Jeebus kill it quick!
That being said...Fuck Valentine's Day and all the bullshit that goes with it.
While my co-workers get flowers delivered all day I will be over here rolling my eyes because SURE he loves you! It has nothing at all to do with you popping his nuts like grapes if he doesn't send you a present today!
If Todd wants to show me he loves me how about he load the damn dishwasher before I get home?
Monday, February 13, 2012
Trick-or-treat. Wash your feet!
I'm pissed at a co-worker. Let's call her Catlady. I nickname everyone and the second she walked in the door I had her pegged.
My friends wanted to invite her to lunch, I said it is all fun and games until she pulls out her 100 page cat scrapbook. Showing us all of Mopsie's outfits she knitted from scratch. She even laughs maniacally like I imagine a catlady would.
Me: Sure is cold out there today. Looks like it is going to snow.
Catlady: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I wear ballet flats constantly. Last week I spilled some coffee in my shoe climbing the stairs to work. So I proceed to the bathroom to wash my foot. I didn't get the door shut all the way, I have one foot in the bathroom sink and am singing Poker Face and scrubbing my foot. I hear a noise. I turned around and there she stood. Watching me wash my feet and belt out Lady Gaga.
I suppose there was an awkward lapse in which I could explain why I had my foot in the sink. Instead I screamed..."Cheese and Rice can't you see I'm in here!"
I was going to explain afterward. Then my typical it's no one's business what I do in the bathroom attitude kicked in. She ran her catlady mouth off to everyone in the office.
Now I'm the weird girl who washes her feet in the bathroom sink.
I'm nothing if not mature. I plan on pouring milk in her purse the moment that bitch turns her back.
My friends wanted to invite her to lunch, I said it is all fun and games until she pulls out her 100 page cat scrapbook. Showing us all of Mopsie's outfits she knitted from scratch. She even laughs maniacally like I imagine a catlady would.
Me: Sure is cold out there today. Looks like it is going to snow.
Catlady: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I wear ballet flats constantly. Last week I spilled some coffee in my shoe climbing the stairs to work. So I proceed to the bathroom to wash my foot. I didn't get the door shut all the way, I have one foot in the bathroom sink and am singing Poker Face and scrubbing my foot. I hear a noise. I turned around and there she stood. Watching me wash my feet and belt out Lady Gaga.
I suppose there was an awkward lapse in which I could explain why I had my foot in the sink. Instead I screamed..."Cheese and Rice can't you see I'm in here!"
I was going to explain afterward. Then my typical it's no one's business what I do in the bathroom attitude kicked in. She ran her catlady mouth off to everyone in the office.
Now I'm the weird girl who washes her feet in the bathroom sink.
I'm nothing if not mature. I plan on pouring milk in her purse the moment that bitch turns her back.
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