So go floss
When I Get NAKED and lay on a table there are a few things that should happen:
1. I should be getting a massage
2. Your hands should be WARM
3. I should be getting a massage
I did not get naked, climb on a table, and pay decent money to have an 'ice cube' hand oil rub down. Stop PETTING me and rub my fucking back. It's called a massage for a reason, it is not supposed to be some awkward hour where I wonder what the hell you are doing and get pissed that my back hurts more once it is over.
I wish I would have said I am not paying for this!
PS. Thanks for digging your finger nails into my shoulders…at least I could feel that.
My husband came back from a beer run waving a Mega Millions ticket. Like it was the golden ticket from a Willy Wonka bar. “The jackpot’s 171 million,” he says. “The guy at the drive thru asked me if I play the lottery (because all he usually buys is Kodiak and beer) and I should get a ticket, so I bought $2!”
You’re a welder/fabricator FCOL. Can’t you make some cool metal thingy that everyone just has to have to make us rich?
Destined to disappointment,
So I find out yesterday one of the guys at my company got fired for sleeping on the job. A few of my coworkers felt bad for him what the economy, poor job market, family, blah blah blah. I of course had to take the low road and laugh about it. How the hell do you fall asleep at work? We are swamped here trying to pick up the slack after all the cutbacks over the years. Besides, I can't imagine sleeping uder the flourescent lights, the noise, drooling on my keyboard, possibly ending up snoring, yelling out something inappropriate, or worse, humping the chair, ya know? So I laughed. What a dumbass.
Here comes the karma.....So this morning after I showered, I accidentally slathered myself with the wrong body lotion. Instead of the advanced therapy all over super hydrating body lotion, I USED THE ZZZZ-THERAPY NIGHT TIME RELAXATION AROMA THERAPY LOTION!!!
O Mi God, I have had 8 cups of coffee and am completely wired. But I am sure that is the very last symptom and conscious thought you have before dropping face first on your keyboard. I'm SORRY GOD!! and you too Bob.
I discovered Fawty's blog a few months ago and I haven't been the same since. She is one of the bloggers that makes me laugh, even when she's commenting and I'm grateful to her for making so many of my days better. But fortunately she's also a fabulous whiner. And that's good for all of us.
I’m worried about my health.
Recently, the voices in my head seem to be getting louder and more frequent.
They just come out of nowhere and seem to take over nearly all my interactions. I discussed it with my doctor, but he said that it happens naturally as you get older.
Nevertheless, it really unnerves me.
I was at the supermarket the other day, and as I got to the check-out, this sweet young guy at the till said;
‘Good morning ma’am, how are you this morning?’
Mind your own fucking business and get on with it will you!
‘Very well thank you’ I replied ‘How are you?’
‘I’m not feeling too good today.’ He said.
Like I give a shit! Trust me, I have enough of my own problems buddy.
‘I’m sorry to hear that’ I said ‘What’s the problem?’
‘I am so tired, I was here at 4.00am this morning’ said the young man.
4.00am? What a whiner. You obviously don’t have any children yet.
‘I’m sorry to hear that’ I said. ‘You must be exhausted’
That’s five hours of sitting on your ass talking crap to the customers.
‘Yes I am’ he said, trying to stifle a yawn.
Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? Put you bloody hand in front of your mouth when you are yawning!
‘Well – I’m sure you will be able to go home soon,’ I said smiling. ‘Then you can relax and put your feet up’.
Lazy, bloody good-for-nothing young people of today.
‘Yes’ he said ‘Only two more hours and I’m finished’
Christ – your badge should say Hi I’m a talker – not Hi I am Chris! That way people can know to avoid you.
With that he handed me my change and said ‘Thank you for chatting to me, it makes the time go so much faster’
What a twat!
‘It’s a pleasure’ I said with a big smile ‘Enjoy the rest of your day’
And maybe one day when I decide to make the sacrifices to actually DO
something, it'll bloody well work out. As opposed to sitting in the water
like a lame duck and then slowly sinking.
And of course I'll be mature enough to not care if NOTHING works. I'm not
there yet. Nearly fifty, not there.
I walk in to pick up my kids and I see my 4 year old standing in between two old ladies smoking on a balcony! My in-laws are making sure that the kids aren’t too close to the railing on the balcony, but apparently could not care less that people are smoking next to a 4 year old! What – do they think 2nd hand smoke is a myth??
I’m sure everyone thought I was a bitch when the first thing out of my mouth was, “Hi people I don’t know! Daughter, get away from them – they are smoking!”
How are you today? I hope you are fine. If so thank be to God almigthy.
please excuse me, I saw your contact email while browsing through the internet so I decided to contact you despite that I
have not seen you in person. It will be my pleasure to communicate with you. My name is Edith, 23 years from Democratic Republic Of Congo in Central Africa. I am single girl looking for honest and nice person. Somebody who care and fear God whom I can partner with. I
don't care about your colour or ethnicity.
I would like to know you more, most especially what you like and what you
dislike.I'm sending you this beautiful mail, with a wish for much happiness. I am looking forward to hear from.
Thanks and God bless.
Days like this make me hate my job. I want to walkup to everyone I work with who thinks they are better at this job than I am and spit in their eye.
Repugnant assholes. How can you not be concerned with what's best for our student when they are shelling out 100,000 in loans to come to this shithole?
I sold my soul to this job for 26k a year.
Days like this make me hate myself.
I need to go back to college and make something of myself.
To Whom It May Concern,
Yes, they are all mine. Thank you, I think they are beautiful, too. Yes, I have my hands full. Yes, I do have my helpers with me today, I'm so glad you noticed. She's a girl, too, see the pink blankie there and the bow in her hair? Thank you for the compliment, it made my day, and it helps to reinforce their good behavior. Could you please stop staring and smiling at us now? It's freaking me out a little. Well, I don't think it's any business of your's, but no, we probably won't be having more. But you asking that way makes me want to. Out of spite. Don't think I wouldn't create life for spite. To be fair, it's only four children. Stop treating us like we're a freak show. I appreciate your kind words, and I'm sure you are proud of your grandchildren, but if you'll move your cart and excuse us please, I just want to grab my family-size frozen lasagne and get my brood the hell out of this store.
The word "Washmovia" is making my pants itch...and not in a good way. It instantly linked to Duran Duran's (I think...bit rusty on my 80's music trivia) Notorious in the bad juke box that is my brain.
Now, I sit here trying to read perfectly legitimate whines, and keep getting assaulted with "wash-MO-VIA...(doodoodoo...)wash-MO-VIA!"
I've never heard of this bank, before. Now its musically impregnated in my mind. Thanks a lot, secret spineless whiners.
|i hate washmovia. i hate them. worst bank in the world. my money was direct deposited at midnite...those 2 pending transactions didnt clear till after midnite...yet i still have 70.00 in overdraft fees....why?? because their system updates till 7:30 AM..and those 2 transactions, even though they didnt clear until THIS MORNING, still count as transactions for the previous day. THATS BULLSHIT!!!!!!! scam to get my hard earned money.|
i hate washmovia. no other bank does that. i switched because my employers have "a relationship" with them..yeah its called "washmovias bitch".
i want to punch something. now there goes my grocery money. assholes
|Why do people think I want to post a button of their blog on MY blog? I'm not talking about this blog, I'm talking about personal blogs, by individual people? Do you think I love you and your blog so much, that I think you're so amazing, and that I feel so proud to be one of your readers that I want to shout it out to the world by posting your button on my blog? Or is there some unwritten you-post-my-button,-I'll-post-yours rule? If so, it makes no difference. Because I don't have a button. I don't want a button. I'm not trying to create some kind of enterprise here, it's a blog, man. Give me a break.|
Who is the music intended for?...I hope it's for you because if it's for me, your reader, please know that it makes me want to beat my head into the wall. Ok, maybe it's MY fault because I blog browse in silence...but damn it, I hate having to reach over to my speaker volume everytime I read your freaking blog. I love you, I love your blog, but I hate the freaking music. If you removed it from your blog I would love you so much more!!! And while we're at it, dear daughter, STOP messing with my speaker volume.
You're killing me with the talk about why your life is so busy because you're running around taking your kid to karate class, horseback riding, fencing class, lute practice, chinese 101, voice lessons etc. The brat is 10 fucking years old! What, is she running for? Ms. America doesn't have that many hobbies!
When I was a kid, we had dance class once a week and played softball in the summers because my lesbian aunt Leilani coached the team and always needed extra players. And I hated softball! The rest of the time we actually spent with family! Or my mom would shove a book in my hand.
Stop trying to make your daughter more interesting and by extension you. It's embarassing and transparent.
potty, bath, potty, brush teeth, jammies, stories, tuck you in, turn
out the light
Could you please for the love of all things that are good and peaceful
stay the fuck in your bed and go right to sleep.
And by sleep I do not mean drag all your stuffed animals into the
closet with you. I do not mean go look out the window, or lay down in
front of your door and push your blanket under the door crack. I do
not mean stand in the middle of the room with your blanket over your
head so I won't see you.
As your mother who has just spent the whole day with you; from your
5:30 wake up (Which BTW is too early for you to be waking up, you know
it, I know it and the neighbor downstairs has told us all about how he
knows it too) until your 7pm bedtime. I do not think it's cute or
adorable that I have to go in to your room a minimum of 3 times a
night after I have wished you sweet dreams. I do not relish finding
you completely undressed and your night diapers hidden under your bed
with your pj's jammed between your mattress (once you can hold your
pee pee all night long with no accidents you can sleep in the buff all
you want but not before then)
Just go to sleep already!
I'll be a much better Mommy if you just do this for me
now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go put her back in bed again
When you invite me and another friend over to your house for dinner, please do not send me an email saying "what should we have for dinner?". I don't effing know. You decide. You are the one who invited me over for dinner. Tell me if you want me to bring something, but don't make me plan the stupid meal for God's sake!
p.s. Stop reading my blog, so I can write funny stories about how your indecisiveness drives me nuts!
your loving friend
My husband and I have been separated for almost 2 years now. We still "date" every week and are happy with this arrangement (our kids are grown). We simply can't live in the same house but still love each other SO MUCH.
Or so he thinks. Really I just love the AWESOME free medical benefits I get from his employer, and the cash back I get from mine for not enrolling. Oh, and even though I would be broken hearted, that half million dollar life insurance policy I have on him through my employer would help dry my tears.
You know what annoys me?
Mommy Bloggers who blog about how perfect their life is, that's what. How they keep their homes so clean and organized and exquisitely decorated. And how YOU, TOO, can be just like them (weren't you just DYING to know how?). Or their perfect, home-cooked gourmet meals prepared in their granite and stainless-steel kitchens and served in their spotless dining rooms. To a family that doesn't complain or act like they suspect they're being poisoned. Or their professional-quality photographs of their perfectly dressed and smiling children taken in their park-like acre of a backyard. In their free time.
I don't know why I keep reading them, other than I must be a glutton for punishment. Or I just want an excuse to whine.
Target is NOT the airport. You don't just drive up to the heavily-marked fire lane and stop - impeding dozens of cars trying to park or get out - to let your lazy-ass kids off in front at the door. Drive around the side or park and let them out. From the muffin-top I saw on Saturday, they could use a little exercise.