Saturday, February 28, 2009

Just putting this out there.

"My hand can't fit in my mouth," is not a good excuse as to why you don't floss your teeth at all.


Anyone can floss. . . .Well, those who have hands can, and if they don't, they can use their feet. I've seen it before on the Discovery Channel.


So go floss your teeth and shut up.

:)

www.thewaterbottleblog.blogspot.com

Dear kitty:

Try and keep the litter INSIDE the litter box, huh? I mean, I cleaned it for you last night and when I woke up this morning, half of the litter was on my floor. Not only that, but you peed in the litter on the floor and not in the litter box. You're lucky there was enough litter there that it didn't seep into my carpet.

And you're also lucky you're so stinkin' cute.

Oh, and quit trying to get in the fish tank. You're too big.

:)

Douches @ Walmart

To the Douches @ Walmart:
 
First off let me start out by saying that I am a good person.  Had I met you under different circumstances, I'd be the one offering you my childrens gently used overflow just to see that you kids are clothed and warm.
 
However, now I see that you probably came from trash, and will continue that pattern all your days.  Too bad, really.
 
I haven't been out of the house in 3 days.  My kids and I have been sick.  I ventured out today to get nail polish remover so I could do a pedicure and spruce myself up a bit.  Who are you to ruin my day for no good reason.  Did you see something in me make you feel the need to be blatently rude?  When your dog ugly boyfriend was pushing your cart filled with cat food and litter through the parking space I was patiently waiting to pull in to, what made you think it'd be more beneficial to carry it along with your 5 other bags to your crap van 25 feet away and leave your cart square in the space, rather than just pushing it up to your van to unload it...?  Come on, you made a point of stopping the cart, looking directly at me and then motioning him to help with the bags and leave the cart there so I couldn't pull in without hitting it.  When I pulled part way in, got out of my vehicle, and moved it myself, the two of you were so mature to giggle about it.  I think you got the drift when I glared straight into your ugly faces and I must warn you that my family has roots in Witch Kraft.  If anyone haunts you on my behalf, you have it coming to you.
 
Since you've ruined my day anyway, I feel I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't mention that the jeans you are wearing may have fit you 3 illigitimate pergnancies ago, but they do not now.  I don't know if you're trying to spark a memory in the head of the first baby daddy, but I'm relatively sure the only thing that would take him back to that day in the janitors closet of your high school where he knocked you up is the button and zipper on your jeans, which is now tucked away under your gunt.  Additionally, I'd like to point out that purple hair and blue mascara has been out for decades now, in case you missed that memo.  You suck.
 
It's to bad I have to much tact* to tell you off to your face because even if you could afford the internet, you probably can't navigate it...and if you could, you'd be googling how to grow pot in your basement or the easiest way to scam the system.  Good luck trying to supplement your child support with the kitty mill to keep up your drug habit, cats are a dime a dozen.
 
All I can say is karma...
 
* skill and grace in dealing with others
 

Featured Whine: Now It's Medical!

Leigh aka Modern Mommy whined and I couldn't be happier. That doesn't sound odd, right?

Okay Pink Scrubs, I think you and I need to have a little chat. I understand that you are very important and that this doctor's office would fall apart without you. In the (roughly) year since you (maybe) graduated from High School and started working here you've already outlasted two check-in girls and an RN. I can appreciate the disadvantage you are at since you 1) have to wear *ick* scrubs and can't show off your boobs, and 2) have to deal with the doctor's wife breathing down your neck about personal phone calls. I think what you don't understand, however, is that without all us annoying patients you would probably still be working at Hooters. So next time the doctor is running 45 minutes late don't walk me the three feet to the exam room while scowling. Don't act irritated that I dared to (nicely) ask the front desk what was taking so long. Because sweetie? My husband eats lunch with your employer on a regular basis. And I'm pretty sure your arch-nemesis over there at check-out would love to graduate to assisting in the back office. See ya in four weeks for my recheck. Think you can manage a smile?

Leigh (Modern Mommy)

Friday, February 27, 2009

The HELL...

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.

This is his life plan

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?

Fuck.

Destined to disappointment,

Hoodchick

Exlax?

I haven't pooed in five days.
I think my intestines are going to explode.

BLEEEEHHH.

Yuck. I ate too much.

Don't give me that look.

When I ask you a question about my project, dear teacher, don't just stare at me. You tell me to ask questions, I do, but do you help? No. Instead, you just sit there on your ass, and give me a blank stare.

Knock-knock? Anyone home? Hey, I'm talking to you!

Like yesterday, for instance. You were talking to someone. I was being polite and stood there and waited 'til your little pointless convo was finished with that freshmen in college. Er, your former student, as you tell us when she comes in the classroom. Who gives a fuck?

When you were done blabbering, I asked you my question. Did you answer it? No. Instead, that the girl you are talking to begins talking again as if she didn't hear me ask you a question and you completely blow me off.

Am I fucking invisible? Really? Can you just shut her the fuck up for two seconds?

I stifle my anger and annoyance toward you and the girl, and continue to wait. Still, you ignore me.

If I get an F on that project because I did something wrong, I'm going to seriously flip out on you.

http://www.thewaterbottleblog.blogspot.com

Honor Thy Parents

My father is visiting and he has the TV turned up so freakin' loud.  Get some hearing aids FCOL, before I consider patricide as a viable option.

I think it *almost* counts as a work out . . .

I went *to* the gym. Well, I went to the parking lot at the gym after visiting the grocery store.

I seriously thought about going into the gym and working really, really hard. But it was sunny in the parking lot. And I had frozen yogurt in the car.

No, I did not work out.

Yes, I did come home to eat half-melted frozen yogurt.

No, I have no idea why I can't get rid of this extra 20 pounds. (And yes, I'm rounding down a wee bit--it might be slightly more than 20 pounds . . . )

Fortune Cookie

I don't want to eat my fortune cookie because it looks very sharp and the shards will probably cut my gum or something. But I'm curious about the fortune. But then I'd have to either throw out the cookie, which is wasteful, or give it to someone else. And who wants a fortuneless fortune cookie?!
The only help I need from a four year old while doing my taxes is putting the empty envelopes in the recycling bin. This isn't building a birdhouse, I can't make up a job so he feels useful. Unless he wants to study up on the new AMT provisions. Wait ! Where'd he go?

Not a single card from the In-Laws

It was my birthday on Wednesday, and I didn't get a card from anyone in my husband's family.
 
So, to me, that says "We hate you." or at the very least "We don't even care enough about you to remember to grab a card for you as we walk past them in Tesco."
So that's fine.
 
They get nothing from me any more.
 
That also means that they get nothing from my husband anymore, because for the last 17years that we've been married, I have been buying the stuff & making sure that he sends them birthday cards & gifts, Christmas cards & gifts, Mothers/Fathers Day cards (& gifts - you get the picture), Wedding Anniversary cards, Christening cards & gifts... etc on time... for his 2 parents, 3 brothers & sisters, their spouses (keep count, we're up to 8people so far) Their children & those kid's partners/BF's etc & their kids  (12 more = 20 people)  - get this... even though I work full-time, and hubby doesn't work AT ALL, (and hasn't done for over 15years)... I was the one that had to shop for the cards & gifts.
 
Wow - I'm going to be way better off - that's 20 fewer Christmas / Birthday cards & presents a year to buy... now, imagine perhaps £10 a gift... that's £200 a year more for me, just because out of the whole of the 20 of you, not a single one of you bought me even a card. I can buy myself something nice with that £200
 
(Also, sorry - not updated either blog in a while, but I will do soon - I hope)
 
Oh, I might also make sure that hubby doesn't have their birthdays as reminders in his Outlook any more, so he won't be asking me, on the day, "Did you get my mum a birthday card?"
 

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Not very neighborly

My laptop can find eleven wireless networks with a stronger signal than the one in my basement. But not a single one has the password of 1234, qwerty, or password. What are the odds?

Off with his head

Anyone have suggestions for a nice "sorry I fucked up" gift for throwing a coffee mug at your husband? Oops.



Dear clothing makers

Really? Is it too much to ask for just one more fucking button so when
I wear your button down blouses there is no gaposis caused by my
bodacious ta-ta's ? Really One. More> Fucking> Button. Will send your
company into begging for a bail-out.. I don't care JUST DO IT!

http://soggy-doggy-bloggy.blogspot.com/

EIGHT minutes to make toast?

Honestly, "toaster" oven maker, get over yourself.  Just call your appliance a mini-oven. I could achieve results faster with this piece of bread if I used a Victorian toasting fork over an open flame that I had to light by hand.  And I'm tired of eating dried-out-bread in the mornings instead of toast because after five minutes (which is a really long time to stand around hungry staring at a jar of jam and a knife and twiddling your thumbs), I can't stand it anymore and just take the bread out of the mini-oven already.

Stupid fancy appliance.

MommyTime

Karma

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.

TOILET SEATS

Do I leave the lid of the rubbish bin open?

Exactly.

So why the fuck do you leave the toilet seat open?

Featured Whine: Fawty

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’


Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Wine

How is it that "wine" and "whine" are only one letter apart. And yes, I did just have a glass. Why do you ask?

I Love Getting Email, But I Have a Hard Time Writing Back

Those 150 email messages aren't going to return themselves.

Stimey

Why can't they make longer lasting Chinese food?

Because it's been 45 minutes since I had some, and I'm starving.

Why oh why ... and when will I get there??

ONE day I'll be old enough and mature enough to NOT get pissed off when my
kids all get together and decide that really, I suck. And when my mum decides
to let me know I'm so useless she needs to beliving so far away I'll never
see her again. And when my darling husband insists that his MESS is simply
the self expression of a creatively untidy mind ... does he not get that
under all the stuff lurk several layers of FILTH???

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.

ruthie

Saggy ass jeans

Why is it when you just find a pair of jeans that finally makes you feel good, after a few months the ass seems to sag! I feel like a teenage boy with my crotch down to my knees.

http://fergiesims.blogspot.com


Windows Live™: Discover 10 secrets about the new Windows Live. View post.

Mostly Wordless Fantasy Whine

Would it have killed them to make some manparts?

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

So You Want to Write A Children's Book?

You know how sometimes you read someone's blog and then you get all annoyed because they're articulate and funny? And you think you should just pack it in? That's how I feel when I read Andrea at Mommy's Martini. But then she wrote this awesome whine just for us so now all is forgiven.

So You Want to Write A Children's Book?

No problem! It's so easy, really, anyone can do it. All you need to remember are a few simple guidelines.

First, do your best to commit an offense against basic common sense. There's no reason to worry about logic in a children's book! Children are irrational creatures anyway! Rearrange the normal order of things, and kids will adore the zaniness of it.

Writing a book about Daddy and Me making a dog house? Have them cut the wood first, then measure it. Only an annoying stickler with a grandfather who was a carpenter would complain about such a reversal of the normal order of things. Whereas, you will prove you are CREATIVE.

Second, be sure to write at least one passage, or offer at least one illustration, that utterly misrepresents nature.


Try some poetry along the lines of "Waterfalls with misty breath whisper as they flow. Frozen water turns to ice, and flakes form out of snow." Who cares that frozen water can't turn into ice because it is ice, or that snow is already, by definition, flakes? That's just pedantic. The poetry rhymes, doesn't it? That's what really matters. Besides, you aren't writing for that irritating logical carpenter's granddaughter, are you? You're writing for CHILDREN. They LOVE stuff like this. The more nonsensical the better. (As long as it rhymes. Obviously.)

You've heard of Doctor Seuss, haven't you? Did any of his books make sense? I think not. Whoever heard of a Zizzer zazzer zuzz? Not you. And not me. And he made a fortune. So you should just make stuff up too. Especially in books that are supposed to be realistic. It's even more clever that way.

Third, include at least one phrase or sentence that a parent of a preschooler will have to edit on the fly to avoid reading aloud. Adult readers love that! Violence, bad language, and images that will give small children nightmares are ideal for this purpose. It keeps grown-ups from getting too sleepy while they're reading when they encounter sentences like, "My mother is going to kill me" or passages about how the "whack and thwack" of a moth's wings against the window makes the child think about spankings. Trust me, they will really thank you for helping them stay focused on the book.

Also, it makes a supremely fun game for them when their own visiting parents don't know the "edit as you read" policy and begin to blurt out these things. It's sort of like an Obstacle Course Olympics to see mommies racing across rooms and up stairs to ward off the killing sentence...oh, I am weak with laughter just thinking of how much fun they all have. So do be sure not to forget this one.

And that's it. Three easy rules that will guarantee your success!

So what are you waiting for? Grab a pencil, and start writing. If you have at least half an hour before dinner, you could probably write one or two best-sellers!

In fact, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: as long as the pictures are cute and the poetry rhymes where it's supposed to, the actual ideas in the story don't matter at all. Not at all! Isn't that liberating? You can write about anything you want, in any way you want, defying as many laws of physics, grammar, nature, and punctuation as you want, and it will still be snapped up by a publisher.*

But only, and here's the kicker, ONLY if you avoid pure fantasy or the creation of imaginary worlds.

We wouldn't want to lie to the little darlings, now would we?


*Disclaimer: I have never published a book for children myself and have no means of publishing yours.

Yowzers.

Hey, they're called Q-tips, use them. It looks like Narnia covered in honey in your ears. Poor Aslan.

Good song with bad vocals.

I hate it when I'm listening to a song by a new band. and the music itself sounds kick ass and I get all excited, and start thinking, "MAN! This song is cool so far! I hope the voice sounds okay!"

And then it just. . . .doesn't. . . Man, that sucks monkey eggs.

Good example of this good music/bad vocal combo?

Muse.

I love 'em and all, but sometimes the vocals are just like. . . .whoa, tone it down a bit, huh?


www.thewaterbottleblog.blogspot.com

Dude, stop.

You're not cool. I don't care how many little crude punk buttons you pin to your denim vest, or how tight your jeans fit. It's not very flattering when I see you wear those jeans, by the way, because it looks like something is shoved up your ass, and splitting your marble's in two. And if you even try and walk like a normal guy does, you don't, because you just might bust a nut. Also, that eyeliner you cake on? Nooot a good look for you. Wash your hair, too. It looks like a matted up 40-year-old shag carpet.

You might be expressing yourself, but I bet you a million dollars, that you'll look back on yourself twenty years from now and think, "What the fuck was I thinking?"



At least give me something

Seriously, it wasn't enough that your posts only showed up as three sentences in my feeder? That wasn't small enough for you? You weren't getting enough people clicking over or something? Now you've gone to just titles? Titles? Not even one sentence as a teaser? Come on now. You are not that cool. You are not Oprah, nor Hugh Jackman nekkid. Your blog is not the word of god. Instead of making me want to visit you, you've only made me delete you out of my feeder. Buh-bye


http://www.issascrazyworld.blogspot.com

Friend

Dear Friend,
 
I like you.  I really do.  But when you get all bitchy and uppity about having to drink your wine out of a (gasp) plastic cup instead of a wine glass, you piss me off.  It was a casual get-together.  It was BYOW.  Next time bring your own wine glass and shut the hell up, mmkay?
 
 

Happy Birthday!

Hey Birthday Boy's mom ! Thanks for the great invite, even though I remember when your son was born and it was definitely August, not February.  And I did read on the invitation that cash was the best gift because your son is saving for a wii, but for some reason I really felt compelled to buy him a sweater and a book.  

Missed Connection: Tailgater from this Morning

Imagine my surprise seeing you sniffing my car's ass in the rearview mirror this morning like an Escalade in heat. I was flattered, believe me. So much so I couldn't help but slow down so we could spend a little more time together. When you flashed your lights at me, I knew you were the one. So I slowed even more. I was 10 mins late for work, but it was totally worth it.

Call me.

So So Gross

There are ten million crumbs in the keyboard of this gross loaner office in which I'm sitting.  The keyboard actually crunches when you type.

RIP

My washing machine.

Dear Lady Behind Me in the Starbucks Line

Am I in line?  Why no, I just come down from my office to hang out in the Starbucks line every morning for shits and giggles - I don't really want any coffee!  I'm sure you're in a hurry and running late for work, just like I am.  I understand that.  But I also had one too many martinis on my date last night, and my cat woke me up at 4am playing a fun game of 'hairballs all over the carpet.'  I am thus unable to function before my $4 latte, and I find your grubby little lunch bag brushing against the back of my suit jacket quite repulsive.  Back the eff off, or I may be forced to turn to violence.
 
 
 

Dear People Visiting Planet Earth For the First Time

I know you want to get on the elevator, but on Earth we let people off the elevator first before boarding.

Monday, February 23, 2009

FFF - Fucking Facebook Friends

Dear Facebook "friends"
Please stop updating your status every friggin 40 minutes. I don't care if you are going to starbucks for your morning latte or don't know how to chop an onion in under a minute. Really who gives a crap!
Also Facebook - please consider a button so that I don't have to read certain "friends" updates. They bore the shit out of me.

This isn't a whine, but I just have to say it.

I love you.
:)

No time for games

Mom grow up! Your my mom and sometimes I need to you act like a mom or even a grandmom. Yes my daughter is having surgery tomorrow. I called you.. I asked you to come... You said NO... Now you feel bad and think your tears will make it better...

A play by play of my phone chat with my mother

Me: Hey mom I saw you called whats up
My mom: I was calling for Riley
Me: oh ok well do you mind me asking what you are going to say
My mom: (as she turns on the tears) I was just going to tell her that I loved her and to listen to the Dr tomorrow.
Me: You can tell her that you love her and that your thinking of her but please do not say anything about Dr or tomorrow
My mom: G-D damn it I am tired of being told that I do not care. Now I have to be sensored to talk to my grand daughter.
Me: I'm sorry if you do not understand but when Bob and I tried to talk to her about the surgery she freaked out. There is no need to upset her.
My mom: crying more and more
Me: Ok look I can not deal with Bobs accident Rileys surgery and you crying over this

I hung up.................................

So why do I feel bad?
http://ellie-bellie99.livejournal.com/


I can't spell sqwack

squack?
sqwuack?
squack?
sqwock?

Crap.

It's a good thing I don't keep peacocks for a living.

sigh

I lost 4 followers today WTF?

sigh

I lost 4 followers today WTF?

2nd Hand Smoke is Just a Myth

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!”

 

http://sometimeslucid.blogspot.com

 

It's getting hot in here

there was a fire in my building this morning, and by morning I mean really early. Now I'm not allowed to get back into my home and have no access to my own laptop.

Hello,

Hello,


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.


Love from,
Edith Patrick

Why Does Everyone Talk to Me?

If one more person tells me things no one should ever hear outside of a confessional, or rants about Obama, or anything else skeevy, I will not be held responsible for my actions. Is it because I'm easygoing on the outside? Because on the inside I'm just one eye twitch away from an injury (homicide is way too much work) spree that involves tweezers, barbecue tongs, and electrical tape. Oh, I know, people say I'm easy to talk to, or have a calming effect on them, or some such b.s. Total strangers will tell me obscene things in line at the grocery. So I get to be counselor to the world at large, is that it? 
 
I'm gonna start using this crap as blog fodder. Lord knows I can't come up with enough to write about on my own.
 
Gone Crazy
 
 

Global Warming?

I am so sick of this winter I could hang myself by my frozen Christmas lights.  I am sick of being cold.  I am sick of being in this house 24x7 except when I have to leave it.  Then I'm sick of going outside in sub-freezing temperatures, being whipped by winds blowing from the north at what feels like 400 miles an hour.  I'm sick that we paid thousands to go to Disney World only to be met wtih 'record cold' temperatures.  I'm sick of the solid inch of ice we got last night that covers every outdoor surface.  I'm sick of the tundra of my front yard covered with snow that's been there since the beginning of December.
 
I'm sick of my kids being inside the house all the time and worrying about how much and what types of television they're watching.  I'm sick of yelling at them that this is not a gym and my couches are not trampolines.  I'm sick of hearing myself yell at them when all they need is a place to play and run and jump.  I'm sick of paying for indoor gyms and jumpy places and playgroups so that my children can run off this energy.  I'm sick of my house looking (and probably smelling) like two children, two adults, a dog, and a cat have been trapped inside of it for the past three months.

Financial aid sucks

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.

Is It Garbage Day or Isn't It?

Look, Garbage Folks, when you slap a big orange sticker on my garbage can that says, "Your garbage day is now Tuesday," I take that to mean that my garbage day is now Tuesday and not Monday. I'm just following orders, you know? Like I was raised to do. "No, we're not taking the garbage out tonight because our day is Tuesday now and not Monday. That's what the sticker says," I tell my husband on our traditional Sunday-night Garbage Eve. "No, we're not taking the garbage out this morning because our day is Tuesday now and not Monday. That's what the sticker says," I tell my husband as we notice a couple neighbors' garbage cans out on Monday morning. And so, dear Garbage Folks, you can imagine my disappointment when I heard the rumbling of your truck roll right past our garbage-less house on Monday morning. I believed you. I trusted you. Why would you lie to me? And more importantly, what am I supposed to do with my garbage until next Tuesday? If indeed that's when you're coming. I'm cynically aware that our previously unblemished relationship -- except for the time I mistakenly put loose broken glass in the trash and you left me a snarky little note, but I admit that was my fault -- may be in trouble. But listen, you do not want to pick a fight with me over garbage. It can get nasty. I have cats and eat a lot of bananas. I'm just saying.
 
--
Cathy Wood
Read my column at timesdaily.com
Visit my blog at cathylwood.wordpress.com

To Whom It May Concern 2/23

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.


With gratitude,
 


Sunday, February 22, 2009

My Stupid Google Reader Can't Count

Every day it slowly adds to the number of unread posts, so that now, it's more than 100 posts off. If I had zero posts unread, it would tell me I still had 103 to read. (Till tomorrow or Tuesday, when it will surely register at least 105.)

And now, none of the posts I'm reading tonight are getting "cleared" -- they're all still in bold. So now I won't know which blogs I really need to read or not.

Stupid reader.  Isn't counting one of the most basic things a computer is supposed to do? How hard could this possibly be?
My husband is on a diet.  Being the supporting, loving wife that I am, I'm along for the diet ride too.  If I eat one more piece of chicken, I swear to God I'm going to start clucking and shitting feathers.  If I eat any more salad, I will grow rabbit ears. 
 
I would chew my arm off right now for a Reese's peanut butter cup.  I would. 
 
Blognut

Panties on Parade

WHY do teen boys wear their pants halfway down their hips?  Is it so that 20 years from now they can look at the pictures and laugh at how stupid they look?  Or so they can develop their pelvises from walking like ducks to prevent their five-sizes-too-big jeans from going all the way to their ankles?  This trend is worse than the Flashdance wardrobe I sported in 1983.  I think.

"I'm on my period!"

I hate when people say that.  You have your period.  You're not on it.

R U Kidding?!

Just saw this ad on Facebook.  I guess it will make it easier for kidnappers to contact parents for ransom.  Why not just take a Sharpie and write on the kid's forehead?  Or just take your kid to the vet and have him microchipped? 

My Husband is Helping Our Daughter with Math Homework

and it is causing me great stress and anxiety. Because it seems like she will never get it. EVER. And I remember feeling like that. At least he's the one doing it and not me. Because if I were the one doing it, my whine would be, "how will I get the money for bail?!"

What would Freud say?

Whenever I enter a room, my husband leaves within five minutes.  He thinks I'm making it up.  I'll start recording the incidents in an Excel spreadsheet and make a bar graph.  Data impresses him.  Maybe he'll stay seven minutes.

Pass the donut...

My butt hurts.  I think I have hemmrhoids.  I'm pretty sure I can blame this on the kids since it started during fabulous pregnancy-related constipation.

Why aren't we using the airmiles?

I am now paying real money for a flight that could be totally free with the fucking airmiles. What kind of stupid is that?

I love my cat, BUT...

...she is sitting in front of the TV right now, blocking my view of Hugh Jackman.  Move, damnit!

I can't decide if I should watch the Oscars or Big Love. I planned to put one on each set and run back and forth, but my husband informed me he'll be watching basketball on the big tv.

I don't remember that being one of the options.
I'm thirsty and there's nothing to freakin' drink.

COVER YOUR FUCKING MOUTH.

Dude, you're sick with Bronchitis.

Quit hacking all of your germs everywhere.

There's hand sanitizer RIGHT next to you. Use it for once, gosh darnit.

www.thewaterbottleblog.blogspot.com

Shut the fuck up.

For the people who have nothing better to say in comments: go fuck yourself.

It's our whine, and if you don't like it, fuck off.

I don't want to hear you bitch about my bitchiness.

And YOU: put the toilet seat down, for Christ's sake!

One of these days, I'm just going to super glue the seat to the toilet, so you'll have to learn how to pee like a girl does. Douche.

Is this a whine?

I have a fantasy that one day, at work, the boss will call me over saying there's a phone call for me.
It'll be one of the kids' schools saying that BIFF didn't collect him from school.
I'll phone my parents to collect the kids urgently and I'll call a taxi to take me home.
I'll get home and there'll be no sign of him here.
I collect the kids from my parents house (round the corner, about 100yards) from mine, and give them their tea and eventually they go to bed.
At 11pm, as I'm watching TV, there's a ring on the doorbell and the police are there, telling me that they found BIFF dead somewhere, and I need to collect my car from wherever he left it.
I'm a truly horrible person & mother for wishing that, but he's treated me in a truly horrible way, for a very long time.
 

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Whiney ass blogger

I have a friend who constantly whines on her blog. Every.single.post. It's so fucking annoying. She never has anything good to say about anything. But it's like a person with a flat tire on the freeway during rush hour, everyone knows it's just a flat because they're listening to AM radio traffic reports, but they still have to slow down and check it out, thus hosing up the whole motherfucking freeway and making me an hour late getting home. So, I digress, back to that friend who constantly complains about her job, her kids, her kids activities, her job, her job and her job. So can you please email my friend and invite her to come here and whine so she'll shut the fuck on her blog. It would seriously be so much better if she never blogged at all, because then I'd have nothing to read.

it's really more of a rant than a whine . . . .

Dear "Adopted" "Son",

I fucking *hate* your bullshit. I hate that you won't take responsbility for *anything.* EVER.

I loathe that you hold an advanced degree in Blameology. I abhor that you earned dual minors in Woe-Is-Me-ism and Denial. I detest that you graduated--with honors--from Manipulate U. And I am especially livid that you are a blackbelt in the ancient art of Center-of-The-Universe.

You are a self-centered little shit. I RUE THE DAY (and I didn't think I was the kind of person to go about ruing things, but truly my "friend", I RUE THE DAY) that I told you that you could always count on me to be in your corner. What was I thinking? Always, it turns out, is a long fucking time.

There are days when I want so much to let you in on this little secret: your own mother doesn't speak to you because you're a myopic, selfish little prick and she hates your bullshit too. But I'll never say that to you. Nor will I ever abandon you. Though I want to. EVERY FUCKING DAY. But only because you're a brilliant but fucked up loser.

Whew. That feels much better. I think I can tolerate you for one more day. You selfish, egocentric shit.

Love,
The Fake Mom Who Wishes She Hadn't Volunteered But Can't Help It Because You've Been So Hurt And Are Fragile

p.s. You make me swear. A whole fucking lot.

The word "Washmovia" is making my pants itch...

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.
 
wash-MO-VIA!
 

Yo! Whiners!

Yes. I mean YOU. One sentence. Maybe two. Please.
You're WHINING not writing freakin' War and Peace. *sheesh*

Anytime You Want to Move Back to California

Anymommy is back and whining again for us! Check here if you missed her previous whine. So that you're all up to date in Whineland.


Hi Coop Toddler School Mommy. Hi there. Hi. It's me, Stacey. Yeah, that one. The one that's pregnant with her fourth child? And she's in the Toddler I class. I know. The baby is only 18 months old. He's not even talking yet. It defies imagination, doesn't it? I mean, there aren't that many houses with four bedrooms in this area. The kids might have to share. Gasp! We don't fit into a Volvo station wagon. We have a Dodge Minivan. It's used. The scandal. I'm aware. But, really, asking me if this pregnancy was 'unplanned' in that sneery voice is rude. I'm know that you pursued a cure for cancer while simultaneously cultivating a successful writing career with your cryogenically frozen eggs on hold for you. I don't begrudge you your choices. I'm glad that you have your gorgeous little miracle twins and that they fit perfectly into your Volvo. That doesn't make my pregnancy, fourth or otherwise, an affront to the universe. Also, while we're chatting, yes, I did realize that they sell organic edamame and cheese at Huckleberries. I don't shop there. It's too expensive for little old barefoot and pregnant me. There's nothing in the snack guidelines that says the snack food has to be organic. No peanuts, no sweets, that's what the little piece of paper says. Edamame and cheese are a really healthy snack. Suck it up, or I swear to God I will start bringing goldfish and graham crackers and then what will little Annabelliza and Cromwell eat? (Probably goldfish and graham crackers in huge fistfuls like they've never had actual food before, but, you know, I'm not judging or anything, except when you judge me, and then only in retaliation.)

Friday, February 20, 2009

I don't even think we're close to being best friends anymore. We're more like. . . acquaintances now. Yeah, sometimes we have our bonding moments like we used to, but overall. . . . it's just not a friendship anymore. You went your way and I went mine.

I can't say I like the way you went, and when I speak up about it, you shoot me down. Your other friends are bad influences on you, and you don't realize it. I thought when we were younger, you'd at least mature more, but you haven't. Not one bit.

I hate it when I am around you and your friends, you always make me the loser. You don't realize you do it, but you do.

"Oh, yeah, that's my friend Emily. She never talks. She doesn't really do anything."

"Does she party?" they ask as though I'm not anywhere near them.

I'm right fucking here, you can ask me, you know.

"No, I don't." I say.

You all stare.

"Told you," my friend says.

"Why are you so quiet?" one of her friends asks me.

"She's always quiet!" my friend says.

The only reason I hardly talk around your other friends is because I don't like them. They're a bunch of fucking losers. They need to get a life, and so do you pretty soon. You're falling right down with them.

I don't know if I outgrew you or what, but you're just unbearable now, friend.

I feel sorry for you and I wish you'd listen to me, rather than shoot me down all the time.

Am I going to have to corner you to get you to listen to me?

Because right now? You're impossible.

Absofuckinglutely impossible.


King of the Hill: you suck.

WHY is this show on the air? It sucks. Seriously. Hank is a douche, Peggy is an idiot, Bobby is a fruit. . . .this show just sucks.

Hank: QUIT going, "Baaaaahhhaaah," at every little fucking thing Bobby does. Accept the boy for all loving things that are holy. If he wants to play with puppets, let him. If he wants to eat that flower, let him. Quit being such a pompous tight ass. Propane isn't that great! It smells, and charcoal is 300% better for cookouts.

Peggy: THINK for one fucking second. You're always doing shit you think is awesome, but it's really not. And you're always in denial, you stupid dumbshit. Even though your husband doesn't know how to loosen up, listen to him every once in a while, huh? 

Bobby: Ohhh, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. There are just too many words for you.

And yeah, I know these are just cartoon characters, but they still suck. Worst. Characters. Ever.

The story lines are never interesting, nor are they funny. They're a waste of 30 minutes.

I'm going to go watch Family Guy now.

Peter Griffin may be an idiot, but he's a hell of a lot better than the propane lover.

Giggity giggity goo.

grrrrrrrrr

I'm too PA to do or say anything but why the hell is it that when we are in the middle of moving I am the one who does the bulk of the packing, cleaning and chasing after the baby? Last I checked, you were a functioning adult with two working arms. Oh yeah and fucking off half a dozen times over the last week to play music and hang with your buddies is doing nothing to endear you to me either.

Oh yeah, and you chose to go out last night until 3 in the morning, no one put a gun to your head. Fucking well get the hell up and go to work like an adult. and don't come home and crash for two hours because you're soooooo tired, help me with dinner and bedtime you stupid ass.

Don' t be surprised if your precious collection of whatever they hell those things are aren't packed too nicely and don't survive the move. BTW when you are moving it's generally common sense to refrain from ordering things that just have to be re-packed up with all the other crap you keep buying, until after you're at your new address.

I feel much better now


I bit the inside of my lip and now my weekend is ruined

Because it will hurt all weekend. I demand a weekend do-over. Thanks in advance.

stupid boyfriend

were you not listening any of the MILLION times i mentioned that i really didn't want our daughter to watch THAT STUPID MULTI-LINGUAL CARTOON?  i just can't take the voice's. now you're at your boyfriends house (and seriously, who needs to talk to their friend that much?) playing poker and i'm stuck here watching the same effing episode OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. shoot me in the head... please.  
GRACIAS.


Beer & Taco Bell

I would be soooo devoted to my diet if it weren't for beer and Taco Bell:(

privacy

Stop stealing pictures that I posted up in a special private account, so that family and specific friends can see them, to your damn account. Stop it. I have those measures in place in order to protect my family from at least one psycho we BOTH know about while still sharing with you. I don't care that 'your account is private too'. I'm not friends with everyone on your account; I don't know them, and I don't know who they know, I don't want them knowing about my family. You do it again, I'll block you. Stop stealing pictures. At least ask first, so I can tell you NO. Yeah, my kid's safety IS more important than your feelings. Maybe someday you'll understand. Until then, too bad.

E-L-E-C-T-R-O-N-I-C means no people are involved

I started to leave a comment on the Washmovia rant below but then realized that my comment was a giant whining rant all of its own, and I felt bad leaving that on someone else's whine. So here I am writing my own.

Why is it that when you use the online portion of your banking service, any transaction you set up today will not actually happen until the next business day?  Let's say you go in on the Friday before Memorial Day to pay a bill, and you set up the payment on Friday. It won't actually pay out of your account till Tuesday. EVEN THOUGH THIS IS ELECTRONIC BANKING.  It's not like there are tiny little people inside the computer who have to hand-write the little checks and sign them with their poor bleeding little itty bitty overworked fingers before mailing them out.  It's an electronic transfer of money.  No humans are involved. 

Computers don't sleep.  They could just as easily send the money out the minute I authorize the transfer. But they don't. They wait for the weekend to be over, as if the computers have gone camping or something to take advantage of the long weekend and can't possibly be reasonably expected to work while hiking. And so then my credit card payment, which I set up as an "instant" electronic transfer FOUR days before it was due, is LATE arriving.

Meanwhile, if I go to the American Express website to pay the bill there instead of through my electronic banking, they can process the payment immediately. Which tells me such a thing is electronically possibly. It's just the lazy-ass bank computers and their "we need our days of rest just like anyone else" that can't manage this task.  Unfortunately, I can't remember all 2,458 passwords  I have set up for all the different online credit card payment sites. (And of course, as a safety precaution, I'm too anal to use the SAME password for all those accounts.) So I can't pay the Amex bill online through Amex.

Maybe I should move to Canada.  My Canadian friend tells me that online banking there is rational and reasonable.  It is with shock and awe that American banks may realize that it is indeed possible for electronic payments to be made the moment they are authorized, without the charade of little tiny humans who need their rest living inside those hot stuffy servers. In Canada, you can post a payment, and it will go out the same day.  That might indeed be reason enough to emigrate.

Of course, then I'd have to live without Target.

Which might be a deal-breaker.

MommyTime
Who does all the bill-paying in her house
My blogging partner blocked me on twitter and won't say why.
I had a very hard time following ER last night. Why was that soccer player doing a heart transplant in the ER? Is Uncle Jesse dating the sister from Freaks and Geeks? Do 8 year olds typically wander emergency rooms by themselves? When did Miranda's baby daddy go all rogue cop?

Jeez. You miss 14 years of a show and it's almost impossible to keep up.

banks suck..lets call this one "washmovia"

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


Thursday, February 19, 2009

To my 'oldest' 'friend'

Why do you respond to private messages as comments on my profile? What the hell? Why would I want to publish your letter to me as a public comment? What makes you think I want the tail end of a conversation posted up there? Especially since you had to go to the effort of switching over to the comment form instead of just hitting the damn "reply" button. Is it that important for you that people see we have contact with each other? I am so sick and tired of you using our friendship as a way to make yourself look less pathetic. It doesn't work, and then people wonder why the hell you can't shut up about me when it's pretty clear I'm not THAT wonderful. How about you just BECOME LESS PATHETIC. Also, stop adopting cats and get a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, I don't care. Actually, go with the girlfriend, so we can all stop listening to your 'subtle' comments about how being gay is 'so totally ok' with you and "what would you say if I told you I was gay?". Admit it already; everyone knows and no one cares. We just want you to stop whining. Or at least pick a new topic to whine about. Something that isn't about how much of a victim you are. Thanks. And stop leaving actual messages as comments. I've never published them, and I never will. Catch on already. Oh, and while I'm here, stop asking my parents for money. They aren't your parents. Back the F off. They have enough problems.


I looooove my new glasses.

I know that's not a whine. But I had to tell someone.

Also? My eye doctor moved her office, so it's now 40 minutes from my house which is a huge pain in the neck and means that my new glasses (which I love, did I mention that?) took me SIX WEEKS to get around to picking up because they were so darn inconveniently located.

Shouldn't there be a law about doctors inconveniencing patients in this way?

MommyTime the Lazy

Hey sexy SAHD

Dude, you are just way too sexy to be at school drop off and pick up. Please either stay home and let your kids take the bus, or hire someone not sexy to take the kids to school. Your wife does not know how many of us other moms find you incredibly sexy. There was a plot to kidnap you, take you to an undisclosed location and have our way with you, but then somehow we did not follow through. Yet.
Seriously?  People still smoke?  In restaurants? Really?

Gummi Bears

am I like the last person in the world to find out that they're not calorie-free? WTF?

Blog button whine

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.

I've had almost all I can take.  I don't know what to do next.

Smaller boobs?

After breastfeeding my baby for a year, all my old bras are way too
big. Argh. What's that all about? Not fair.

Anonymous

Can someone please explain to me what is so fascinating about the sight of a person on the side of the road changing a tire?  Seriously, the DC beltway was backed up for 30 minutes this morning while a bunch of knuckleheads slowed down to watch some poor bastard change a tire on an ancient Chevelle.  For the love of G-D.

Dear Control Freak

I understand that you want the best for your children and are concerned for their health and yours. I understand that you are frustrated by the processed crap given to your kids by daycare and public schools. Really, I do. But when I invite you over for dinner, and even give you some menu options beforehand so I can accommodate your control issues AS A GOOD FRIEND SHOULD, do NOT for the love of God say no and then bring your own fucking food to my dinner table. If you don't want to eat what I cook then don't accept my invitation.

And by the way I really hate to point this out, but have you noticed that your white-flour-free, white-sugar- free, red-food-dye-free, red-meat-free, mercury-free, pesticide-free, lead-free, chlorine-free, high-fructose-corn-syrup-free, totally antiseptic kids are sick ALL THE FUCKING TIME? Give them some damn nutrients for godsakes. Meatballs coated with velveeta and tainted peanut butter and rolled in red sugar crystals.

My treat.

Signed, Don't worry about the invitation because you won't get another one,
i.e. Your Friend

Yes. I AM Whining About Whining.

Here's my whine about Stimey. She's the one who got me hooked on twitter. It's true. Last year at BlogHer. Wait, I got confused for a second. I'm supposed to introduce her and then SHE whines, not I whine about her. Duh. It's been like three weeks, you'd think I could get it straight already. PS: Nobody on this planet loves her children more than Stimey. But this isn't secret lovey dovey crap.com. How boring would that be?

***************************************************************************
I am so fucking sick and tired of hearing my seven-year-old whine all the time. And before you get all, "But kids learn by example," on me, I'll let you know that I know that. And I know that I whine. And I'm pretty damn good at it, if I do say so myself.

And also? It's totally not annoying when I do it.

Shut up.

But I swear to God that I should have named that kid What Have You Done For Me Lately?

This weekend he got to go to a movie, he ate out at restaurants, he got to play Lego Star Wars on the Xbox AND my husband took him to the zoo. Then: "I'm booooooored. There's noooooothing to do."

Or my personal favorite: "But I haven't gotten to play that game for a huuuuuundred daaaaaaaaays!" Me: "You played it this morning." Him: "But I haven't gotten to play that game since this mooooooooorning!"

Or how about when I make dinner and he comes to the table and starts crying because "I don't liiiiiiiiike this! This doesn't taaaaaaaaaste good." And he's never tried it. And then I break a plate and he's all, "I'm calling chiiiiiiiiild seeeeeeeeervices."

Or something to that effect.

Seriously, the ungrateful whining is about to kill me. And he is skilled at adapting it for pretty much any situation. I guess I should have expected such a thing. I am an expert whiner. My entire extended family is pretty much composed of expert whiners. But there's something really irritating about a pre-tween who complains that he's hungry and we never do anything fun as I'm driving him home from a birthday party at a gymnastics studio where he ate pizza and cake.

I swear some day I'm gonna freak out and take every damn thing out of his bedroom, start serving him water and rice cakes for dinner, and go all Office Space on our Xbox. Then he'll have something to whine about.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Stop Redesigning Already

I am so tired of learning where everything is on a website or an application and then having to relearn it when it gets redesigned every 15 minutes.

Blog Music

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.

Foiled

Dear sister-in-law,

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.

Fencing indeed.

Why does that stuff that's good for you not taste better?  A cheesesteak is so much tastier than a plate of ahi tuna.

I hate holidays

why can’t preschool be everyday….

 

Sigh

 

I miss school

 

Sticky@nottoosticky.com

Is the Whistling THAT necessary???

Hey boyfriend,

I know it's your only day off and that you're happy to have one after working all those long hours...but remember last night when you asked what I was doing today and I said, working, doing homework/studying, and working again?

I guess when you got up at 9:45 you didn't notice my book and notebook spread out across my desk, or the fact that my nose was wedged in between.  Just a hint, that was me STUDYING and doing HOMEWORK and trying really hard to concentrate on this crap class.

You deciding to cheerily play music in the background I couldn't handle...so I went upstairs so that you could still enjoy the music.  Why did you then feel the need to whistle SO LOUDLY that it came upstairs and past the door???  Were you really feeling Kenny Chesney that much???

Then when I tell you finally that I'm heading to the library...to STUDY, you say, why?  hmmm let me think.  After I tell you why, why do you feel the need to apologize profusely so that I have to keep saying, no it's okay that I'm driving 20 minutes away to get some peace and quiet?  Just let it go.

Thanks for the cooperation.

Your Loving Girlfriend.
Dear Beotch
I know you called child protective services on us.  I know you called anonymously, however, you screwed up.  You added names and events that only you knew about in the LONG list of allegations. You're a bitch.  You can deny that you called all you want. We know it was you and you know what?  I'm glad it was you and not one of my friends doing shit behind my back.  You are psycho, delusional and in need of some therapy. Our side of the case has been closed, hope your side goes just as well.  Hey, did you know that emotional abuse is just as bad?? Because that is what you are doing to your kids, emotionally abusing them!
Love Me

whine

To: All the "oh-so-devout Christian" mothers of the girls my daughter attends girl scouts/cheerleading/tumbling with,
 
Have you noticed that my child has never, ever once told yours that they are superstitious imbeciles?  That would be because, even though we are atheist, we do believe in manners & respect.
 
So, maybe you could try explaining to your bible-schooled brat that it is not nice to to inform my kid that she is going to hell.  You might even start by setting a good example, like NOT SHUNNING us @ public events/mandatory functions.
 
Thanks,
 
anonymous small-town mommy


Clipping finger nails in the OFFICE

Stop clipping your finger nails in the office next to me I CAN HEAR YOU!!
Clip Clip Clip all day long!!!  How many fingers do you have!!!

Do you personal hygiene at home!!! 

And another thing - even if you fart in your office and you think your alone... we can all smell it!!!

MEN!!!!!



Dumbass

When I haven't eaten a damn carb in over a week and I lift my shirt to show you the difference in my muffin tops, don't grimace as if you're disgusted.  And when I suggest that I'm going to go try on my skinny jeans to see how close I am to fitting into them don't tell me it's a bad idea because you know I'll be disappointed.  Hello????  Can we have some ENCOURAGEMENT please??  And then if you ARE gonna be all stupid like that, don't act offended when I won't fuck you after I show you how good my ass looks in the skinny jeans that, by the way, fit perfectly now.  Geez.  After 16 years have you not learned anything???

Recede This!

How come if we're in a recession the fucking salon that blows out hair had absolutely no openings yesterday and I had to snatch the ungodly before 9 am appointment this morning?

That stinks!

Dear Co-workers -
 
I am SO sorry.  I keep popping off these tiny farts.  They aren't big or noisy but OMG do they stink.  I have no idea what I've eaten that is causing this.  Could you please keep feet away from me until the green cloud clears? 
 
With Deepest Apologies,
The Stinker

I work with stupid people.

If I e-mail you a form that MUST be filled out to get your computer fixed, guess what?  The form MUST BE FILLED OUT TO GET YOUR COMPUTER FIXED.  And if it says on that form to e-mail it to a specific address, guess what?  E-MAIL IT TO THAT ADDRESS.  And if the e-mail suggests that you save the document to your desktop for easy access, guess what?  (Ok, no more caps.  You see the theme, right?)
 
Also, since I took the time to make the form a template -- which should be idiot proof -- then please use the tab key to move to each box and give me the information I need.  There are only a few boxes, but they are all essential.  If you don't fill out the one asking where I can find you, guess what?  I can't find you.  If you don't fill out the ones for your computer model and serial number, guess what?  I don't know which computer to fix.  If you don't fill out the one to describe the problem, guess what?  I don't know what the hell the problem is.  Add two or more blank boxes and the summation is that your computer is not getting fixed because it probably isn't messed up; you're just an idiot.
 
For those Einsteins who print the form and then hand deliver it, guess what?  Now I get to open the template, fill it out, and submit it to the e-mail address on the form.  Because guess what?  No e-mailey, no fixey.  That is how it works.   See?
 
And for those of you who do not know what "save it to your desktop" means, who the hell hired you?  I didn't know we had a position open for "Dumb Fuck, level I."  Had I known that I would have my cousin an application.
 
Love,
 
The IT Guy

Wordless Whining

This is what happens to my couch while I take a shower.

-Kirsten, The Norwindians

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Don't get me wrong

I love you, I adore you. As far as I'm concerned you hung the moon and
the stars and all the planets in our solar system. I'd do anything for
you in a heartbeat. So, why oh why oh why oh why do you make bed time
so difficult. It's not hard, we do the same thing every night and with
the exception of the potty we've done the same thing every night for
the last 2.5 years.

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

Icy Cheeks

I want heated toilet seats.

Make your own decisions dammit


Dear friend,

 

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!

 

Thanks,

your loving friend

 

Me again...hi honey!

I  forgot  I was supposed to whine. You are annoying. And a cheapskate.

Hi honey!!

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.

French manicure

Just say no.

To all those potheads out there in the world:

Get a life. I sat in front of one of you guys today in the auditorium, and you were teaching a freshmen whose never smoked before, Marijuana 101. I couldn't help but listen, because there was absolutely nothing else to do.

You told the freshmen all about the science in growing pot, like how to make the different types. Like, Pineapple Express, for instance. The freshmen then asks if that is a real type, you say yes, but you say it isn't all that great. You tell them pot is "not a drug, but God's creation." Completely natural, you say.

 "Pot doesn't kill brain cells, so if anyone ever tells you that, they're fucking retarded. All pot does is make you think critically about one thing, and you get the answer from within yourself. . . .Like, for instance, if I was high right now, and I was wondering why stop signs are red, I'd soon get the answer."

Wow.I mean, wow.  Really? Is pot really, really worth it? MAN. I am missing out.

I listen more, because this conversation about pot was just too good to pass up.

"I'm like, a fucking master at the green," you then go on. I laugh to myself.

Then you start naming off random facts about pot, like, "a small pot plant produces more oxygen than a normal 8-foot tree does." or "THC is a natural relaxer."

You told the freshmen you invest nearly all the money you earn from work into pot, bowls, "paper" (I learned that today too. Paper is what you use to roll joints.)

As if that is a cool thing to do.


Honestly? Why not save that money up for a car? Something useful, huh?

Why do you want to get high first thing in the morning before school, and just daze off,  with eyes glazed over for most of the day? Why do you want to REEK of it? I don't care how much axe or tag body spray you soak yourself in, you still smell like shit, roadkill and vomit mixed together.

What really got to me was when you told the freshmen you were failing your first three classes, but you didn't know why.

Do you know how badly I wanted to turn around and scream in your face, "Because you're a fucking lazy-ass, doped-up dumbfuck who thinks pot will solve all your problems!"

I don't care whether or not it kills your brain cells, or makes you think critcally, calms you down, gets you hungry, is all natural, perfectly safe and is just " fucking awesome".

Marijuana is ILLEGAL, and I just hope you get caught with it one day.

Sincerely,

An intelligent non-smoker.




Bad Mom Rising

I'm sick of listening to mommy bloggers label themselves as a "bad mommy" or claim that they're going to get "the bad mommy award" because they aren't perfect or do something that the "perfect mommies" would consider "bad." It's tiresome.

Letting your child watch two movies in a row does not make you a bad mommy.

Giving your child a piece of candy, when you usually don't, does not make you a bad mommy.

Not exclaiming loudly over every piece of art your child ever created, and then not keeping it forever, does not make you a bad mommy.

You're not a bad mommy, OK? You know it and we know it. There is no perfect mommy, but even if there were, not being perfect doesn't make you bad. If you need validation that you're a good mom and you need other mommies to assure you that no, you're not bad mommy, consider finding another way to get it. Continuing to proclaim that you're a bad mom isn't subversive, it's just tired.


I need a nap

but because I'm over 4 years old, apparently I don't get one. Fucking ageism.
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.

Hey, how come there are no Presidents' Day Whines?

I for one, am so sick of this Thomas Jefferson worship, I can't stand it one second longer.
Hey perv ! My eyes are up here. Look up. There you go.

And you know what? It's no excuse that you're only 4. You gave up all claim to these babies 2 1/2 years ago when you weaned.

We're both going to be working this out in therapy.

Featured Whine: Bern this!

Marinka usually writes these fabulous introductions for our featured whiners but she's someplace with spotty internet. Or so she claims. I don't know, cause I've gotten dozens of demanding e-mails from her. Oh wait. This is Jessica's whine. Enjoy.

Hey Lady sitting next to me in the movie theatre with your boyfriend sitting on the other side of you. I'm sorry for touching you so much at the movie last night but you see, I am alone, lonely, by myself, not getting any, etc, etc and "Defiance" is a very upsetting film and those guns are very loud and those sad parts are very sad and for 14 years I had someone next to me to hold and grab when I needed to and you see, he is no longer around as he is now back to dating his mother and it's not like I did it more than ten times, which in my mind would be a lot IF I had not said I was sorry way over 10 times which I think would balance it out and at least afterwards you didn't have to resort to discussing the movie WITH YOURSELF but rather got to talk about how annoying I was with a man who clearly wanted to touch you way more then he actually did and for which, as a Jew, I would like to thank him for the restraint his displayed by keeping his dick in his parents while the people on the screen tried to live a "normal life' in a forest in the frigid cold while simultaneously being hunted down like animals.

Call me :))


Bern This

Monday, February 16, 2009

What I think about Disney and their films.

I believe Disney has finally bottomed-out with film ideas. Worthy, ideas, that is. "But they made High School Musical!" You seriously count that as an accomplishment? What happened to movies like, The Lion King or 101 Dalmations? Those were fantastic movies of my time. Ah, the 1990's. Now, kids are brainwashed by Disney when they air their own creations on their channel with sappy and cheesy movie titles that explain the movie by accident, like, The Cat Who Came To Town And Made Everyone Happy Until He Got Hit By A Car. Or how about that movie that came out a couple months ago. The talking Chihuahua one? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

It's sickening when people actually pay good money to see such a thing like High School Musical. Musicals are by far the WORST thing to sit through. And another thing about Disney that bugs me are the actors they throw in to make it 1,000,000,000 times worse. They're a bunch of who-are-those-people-in-that-movie?, and somehow get famous because little ten-year-old girls and boys adore them. Sure, maybe they're role models. Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus is a perfect example. Those kids think she is the greatest, most talented person that walked this Earth, even though to smarter, older, people, she can't sing, nor can she act. But if she does something later in her celebrity life that ruins her career, those kids that love her are going to be CRUSHED. And that's really sad.

I don't see the big deal in all these movies Disney shoots out their butt. Even kids MY age still watch Disney. What lessons do they teach, anyway? In movies like The Lion King, Pocahontas, and The Little Mermaid, we learned valuable and joyous lessons. They were powerful. Now? Nothing. All you get is those same sappy actors who are in EVERYTHING that Disney owns, a terrible dialogue, and maybe, if you're lucky, a moral of the story, which doesn't amount to anything, especially when you compare them to movies like The Lion King. Now, the only modern movie I can make an acceptation of is Cars and Finding Nemo. Other than that, these movies they make are either a hit or miss.

I'm pretty sure Walt Disney is cursing down at the people who took over since the man died.
He has to be. I know I would.

- Tiffany

www.thewaterbottleblog.blogspot.com

My wife ate all the frosting off the cake.

Dear Son:

I know that I'm not a rocket scientist but when you tell me that you're carsick and want to throw up, how about waiting five minutes before asking me to get you an ice cream sundae because you think that it will "calm your stomach"? I still have some brain waves, however slight.

to the frog on my window at night:

Even though it's winter out, it won't be soon until you're going to be chilling on my window again. I don't mind you there, Mr. Frog. But did you know you scare the poop out of me when I'm sound asleep and I hear a THUD! and WHAM! against the window above my head? I know you're hungry, and you've probably got a family to feed, but can you keep your lunging across my window down a bit? Thanks. I knew you'd understand. Mints will be on the windowsill, just the way you like 'em. See you soon.
:)

- Tiffany

www.thewaterbottleblog.blogspot.com

Belated Valentine Whine

It's ValenTINE'S. With an N. Stop saying ValentiMe's!!!!!!! I hate that. It's f#cking annoying! Even if you are only 4 years old.

Target is not the Airport

Hey lady who drops her kids and their friends off in front of Target on a busy Saturday - what the fuck's your problem?

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.