So some of you may remember a few months ago when I wrote about Fargs. Remember how she used to be so much fun and a party girl, etc etc etc and how I killed her? She suffered a second death this weekend; let me elaborate.
I went to Saskatoon this weekend for a little break. Went to spend time with my mom and my brothers. Nothing wrong with that. Fargs would do that. Okay, all's well. Not quite. I started out the day okay, had a couple of drinks and visited and pissed off this drunk pessimist cynical self-righteous self-pitying fellow, but had a good time doing so. Which by the way was an eye opener because I thought I was angry and bitter, but there are far worse out there. But I digress.
The big goal of the evening was to watch my brother's band play. He plays in two bands but this was the grindcore metal band, Mechanical Separation. Not my usual genre of music but watching him play is awesome, so I go and love every minute of it. The catch was, and brace yourselves, they didn't go on the stage until 11:30 p.m.!!! Can you even believe it? How the heck am I supposed to stay up for that business? I need my teeth brushed and flossed, moisturizer applied, digestive aids taken well before then, this simply would not do! As I said though, I love to see him play and my other brother was coming out too and it's always fun hanging out with him...so I pressed on.
Back in the day, Fargs would've started drinking at 3 p.m. and not thought twice about carrying on right through until show time and beyond. However, this currently was not the case. All I could think about was not wanting to be that drunk (which is a sign of maturity, I know, blah blah blah) and how hungover I would be the next day and I had a two hour drive home. So I took 'er easy. Booorrringgg. However, made it to the bar to watch the show. My brother showed up, yay, let's have some more drinks. Yay, I'm out at a bar. Yay, I'm having drinks. Yay, those people are 22 and yay they have a wide assortment of piercings, tattoos and dreads...Yay, I look like a fucking soccer mom headed to the PTA meeting (of which I'm not a member, I tried that when my oldest child was in Kindergarten and those are some heartless bitches). Anyway, it was so depressing. My mother looked cooler than I did. Granted, she's a young looking trendy person but for the love of God I might have well taken Rice Krispie treats and Kool-Aid for the band....
In time I got over the horror of it all and figured what the hell, these people don't know who I am, technically I am a soccer (football, hockey, volleyball) mom, so fuck it. Then the show was over. I was inspired by my brother's passion for music and his ability to play it. My other brother wanted me to go party with him. I said no. Why, you say? I was scared! He's 27 and I'm not. He's single, childless and sowing his wild oats, so to speak, and I'm not. I'm married, riddled with children and the only thing I do with oats is eat them to ensure some form of regularity. I honestly did not think I could possibly cope with what his night might entail and could not get away from the thought of death by hangover nor did I really want to ditch my mom. He teased me a little, which I deserved, but I just buttoned up my cardigan and put on my sensible winter wear and went home.
RIP Fargs...
Monday, February 8, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
The Break-Up
Before anyone gets all worked up, my marriage is intact. However, another relationship may have finally come to an end. A girlfriend of mine is no longer welcome in my life. It's a sad parting because we used to have so much fun. I'm not kidding, she and I have been on road trips, to concerts, house parties, camping, weddings; really, you name, we've done it. And how we'd laugh. We'd dance and sing too. We were really really good at singing. Now don't get me wrong, we didn't hang out every week, with maybe the exception of a period in my early 20s. She's fun but she'd wear me out. But for the longest time the fun outweighed the cost. Then the bitch turned around and stabbed me in the back...
The last time we went out was New Year's Eve. I had a good time. I sang, I laughed and I broke a glass. Whatevs. Then sometime during the night, my "friend" decided to put on some steel toed boots and practise karate kicks on my head. I think maybe she pooped in my mouth and she definitely had something to do with the fact that on January 1 I spent pretty much the entire day in bed. I'm positive she had something to do with becoming reacquainted with the appetizers from the night before too. Bitch. Oh there had been a few fights prior to this, don't get me wrong. But for the most part it was all good. Times when we'd go out and I'd be none the worse for wear. What happened to those times? I just don't know.
So with that said, I think it's time to say good bye to my dear friend, Vodka. It was grand whie it lasted.
(This might be one of those sticky situations where we break-up and make-up more than once, I'm just forewarning you).
The last time we went out was New Year's Eve. I had a good time. I sang, I laughed and I broke a glass. Whatevs. Then sometime during the night, my "friend" decided to put on some steel toed boots and practise karate kicks on my head. I think maybe she pooped in my mouth and she definitely had something to do with the fact that on January 1 I spent pretty much the entire day in bed. I'm positive she had something to do with becoming reacquainted with the appetizers from the night before too. Bitch. Oh there had been a few fights prior to this, don't get me wrong. But for the most part it was all good. Times when we'd go out and I'd be none the worse for wear. What happened to those times? I just don't know.
So with that said, I think it's time to say good bye to my dear friend, Vodka. It was grand whie it lasted.
(This might be one of those sticky situations where we break-up and make-up more than once, I'm just forewarning you).
Sunday, December 13, 2009
'Twas 12 Days Before Christmas
People suck. Yeah, yeah I know, that's harsh and cynical and pessimistic, but guess what fuckers, they do. Not all of you. Certainly not those of you who read and enjoy this blog but, some people really suck hard and in so many different ways. I don't even know where to begin, but I'll try...
1. I know it's been said before, but it's true, people should have to get a license to reproduce. Easier said then done, but there are so many people who shouldn't be allowed to care for goldfish, nevermind a child, that it's ridiculous. That being said I wish PETA would fuck off already. Where's the big activist group for children's rights? Is there one? I don't even know which tells me if there is one, they suck too and/or aren't getting any publicity because it's so much more media friendly to talk about puppy mills and dead cats found in homes on 'Hoarders' than it is to talk about physical and sexual abuse and neglect. That's just a stab in the dark.
2. Bullshit is rampant in our society. Everyone's so concerned about what other people think of them that it's nicey-nice all the time and saving face and kissing ass. End it people. Maybe, if just once in awhile, we were all straight with each other, people wouldn't suck so much. Of course, I tend, apparently, to share my thoughts too often and people think I'm mean. My favourite was when a 35+ year old man recently shared his thoughts on the horrors of bi-racial marriages. Seriously?! It's 2009. The scarier thing is, this fucknut has children and is likely sharing those views and opinions with them. Or maybe the scariest thing is he thought it was okay to say this out loud. I really don't know. My husband, however, placed himself between me and this man, because not being a fan of bullshit or pretending to like someone I don't, I was sharing some strong feelings and opinions in response to his ridiculously ignorant remark.
3. Christmas is 12 days away. Not even close to being done shopping. Number of barriers in the way including the flu that attacked us this weekend, but really that wasn't the biggest obstacle. At present I'm not prepared to get into what the biggest obstacle is; my point is, I used to LOVE Christmas. Now I'm more like those other a-holes who whine and gripe about it all December long. And I hate that. People are messing with my Christmas spirit. I've decorated, listened to Christmas music ad nauseum all in the name of trying to get into the spirit and for the most part it just ain't happening.
This is depressing and so is this blog. However, I needed to vent. It was either that or go off on people who don't deserve it and/or resort to underhanded manipulative shit I try to stay away from.
Merry Christmas...
1. I know it's been said before, but it's true, people should have to get a license to reproduce. Easier said then done, but there are so many people who shouldn't be allowed to care for goldfish, nevermind a child, that it's ridiculous. That being said I wish PETA would fuck off already. Where's the big activist group for children's rights? Is there one? I don't even know which tells me if there is one, they suck too and/or aren't getting any publicity because it's so much more media friendly to talk about puppy mills and dead cats found in homes on 'Hoarders' than it is to talk about physical and sexual abuse and neglect. That's just a stab in the dark.
2. Bullshit is rampant in our society. Everyone's so concerned about what other people think of them that it's nicey-nice all the time and saving face and kissing ass. End it people. Maybe, if just once in awhile, we were all straight with each other, people wouldn't suck so much. Of course, I tend, apparently, to share my thoughts too often and people think I'm mean. My favourite was when a 35+ year old man recently shared his thoughts on the horrors of bi-racial marriages. Seriously?! It's 2009. The scarier thing is, this fucknut has children and is likely sharing those views and opinions with them. Or maybe the scariest thing is he thought it was okay to say this out loud. I really don't know. My husband, however, placed himself between me and this man, because not being a fan of bullshit or pretending to like someone I don't, I was sharing some strong feelings and opinions in response to his ridiculously ignorant remark.
3. Christmas is 12 days away. Not even close to being done shopping. Number of barriers in the way including the flu that attacked us this weekend, but really that wasn't the biggest obstacle. At present I'm not prepared to get into what the biggest obstacle is; my point is, I used to LOVE Christmas. Now I'm more like those other a-holes who whine and gripe about it all December long. And I hate that. People are messing with my Christmas spirit. I've decorated, listened to Christmas music ad nauseum all in the name of trying to get into the spirit and for the most part it just ain't happening.
This is depressing and so is this blog. However, I needed to vent. It was either that or go off on people who don't deserve it and/or resort to underhanded manipulative shit I try to stay away from.
Merry Christmas...
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The PMS Chronicles
Hello. I do realize I've covered this topic before, but I think it bears mentioning again...
So here we are, another month, another uncontrollable surge of hormones. The emotional roller coaster I've been on this week has taken me everywhere from fighting off tears whilst singing along to Amy Grant's "Tennesee Christmas" (not sure what this was about. The farthest south I've ever been in my life is Minot, North Dakota) to having chest pains earlier today from sheer rage at the car dealership. Oh and there was a brief stop in Gull Lake, Saskatchewan where I came very close to committing manslaughter. Maybe that's where I'll start:
Monday I drove 697 kms. In one day. On my way home, I needed to stop for gas and food. I was hungry enough at this point that I was considering eating my lip balm but settled for a disgusting gas station sub instead. I was very tired and when I got to the gas station, which was full serve, I was more than ready and willing to let them pump my gas for me. So I waited a bit and when no one came out, decided, I am not above pumping my own gas and really I just need to get back on the road, so what the hell? Just as I had finished filling my tank, the stunned Oompa-Loompa (for the record she is not actually a "little person", just short ) who works there came out and cheerfully said,"Fill it with regular ma'am?" Um, nope, all done here. Thanks though. So as I may have been quite abrupt with this little ray of retarded sunshine, she looked confused and tried a different approach; "I love your purse!". I did not reply. It was really just for the best. So after trying to find something halfway suitable to eat I made my way to the till. By this time Farmer Ted had come in to get some gas as well and instructed Pollyanna the Wonder Tool to go fill his truck with gas. So, after awhile, Farmer Ted, who I assume was not PMSing began to do that exaggerated sigh thing a person does when they are becoming annoyed and tired of waiting. He did this again and looked at me. At this point I muttered "Good Lord" and looked outside to see where she was. She was, in fact, making her leisurely way back inside. No hurry. I like bunnies. (I'm assuming these were some of her thoughts).
Another woman then came to the front and helped my farmer friend with his purchase. Which left me with fuckface. So she apologizes for the wait, and again, I did not reply. How rude! Really, considering what I wanted to say, it really really was the best option. After a short time she became distracted by her belly button or maybe it was just a shiny object, I'm not sure, but I could take it no longer and reached across the counter and ripped my own receipt off the debit machine and signed it. She did not quite know how to react. This is one of those times where after I realize my reaction may have been slightly extreme. However, patience is not my virtue. Any I do have I use up every single day at work and there is none left for the rest of the idiots I encounter. And really, I don't think it phased her. She looked a little startled but then probably remembered that Skittles also come in tropical flavours and all was well with the world.
As for me, I have chosen to not partake in anymore of Amy Grant's Christmas carols this week. In between bouts of rage I continue to have overwhelming feelings of love for my husband and children and stop myself from sending them a group text stating so...really that would frighten them more than the anger.
Bottomline is Mother Nature is mean and right now, so am I. (except when I'm crying). ;)
So here we are, another month, another uncontrollable surge of hormones. The emotional roller coaster I've been on this week has taken me everywhere from fighting off tears whilst singing along to Amy Grant's "Tennesee Christmas" (not sure what this was about. The farthest south I've ever been in my life is Minot, North Dakota) to having chest pains earlier today from sheer rage at the car dealership. Oh and there was a brief stop in Gull Lake, Saskatchewan where I came very close to committing manslaughter. Maybe that's where I'll start:
Monday I drove 697 kms. In one day. On my way home, I needed to stop for gas and food. I was hungry enough at this point that I was considering eating my lip balm but settled for a disgusting gas station sub instead. I was very tired and when I got to the gas station, which was full serve, I was more than ready and willing to let them pump my gas for me. So I waited a bit and when no one came out, decided, I am not above pumping my own gas and really I just need to get back on the road, so what the hell? Just as I had finished filling my tank, the stunned Oompa-Loompa (for the record she is not actually a "little person", just short ) who works there came out and cheerfully said,"Fill it with regular ma'am?" Um, nope, all done here. Thanks though. So as I may have been quite abrupt with this little ray of retarded sunshine, she looked confused and tried a different approach; "I love your purse!". I did not reply. It was really just for the best. So after trying to find something halfway suitable to eat I made my way to the till. By this time Farmer Ted had come in to get some gas as well and instructed Pollyanna the Wonder Tool to go fill his truck with gas. So, after awhile, Farmer Ted, who I assume was not PMSing began to do that exaggerated sigh thing a person does when they are becoming annoyed and tired of waiting. He did this again and looked at me. At this point I muttered "Good Lord" and looked outside to see where she was. She was, in fact, making her leisurely way back inside. No hurry. I like bunnies. (I'm assuming these were some of her thoughts).
Another woman then came to the front and helped my farmer friend with his purchase. Which left me with fuckface. So she apologizes for the wait, and again, I did not reply. How rude! Really, considering what I wanted to say, it really really was the best option. After a short time she became distracted by her belly button or maybe it was just a shiny object, I'm not sure, but I could take it no longer and reached across the counter and ripped my own receipt off the debit machine and signed it. She did not quite know how to react. This is one of those times where after I realize my reaction may have been slightly extreme. However, patience is not my virtue. Any I do have I use up every single day at work and there is none left for the rest of the idiots I encounter. And really, I don't think it phased her. She looked a little startled but then probably remembered that Skittles also come in tropical flavours and all was well with the world.
As for me, I have chosen to not partake in anymore of Amy Grant's Christmas carols this week. In between bouts of rage I continue to have overwhelming feelings of love for my husband and children and stop myself from sending them a group text stating so...really that would frighten them more than the anger.
Bottomline is Mother Nature is mean and right now, so am I. (except when I'm crying). ;)
Friday, November 6, 2009
The Dissolution of Friday Night
Once upon a time I was known as Fargs. Fargs was a good time. She was the go to girl if you wanted to have a few drinks and a lot of laughs. Nary a Friday night passed without a drink or two, maybe a house party or a trip to the bar. Want to party til 4 in the morning? I was your girl? 6 a.m., why not? Bring it.
Cut to a Friday night in 2009. I just washed all my floors. Including my large living room floor on my hands and knees. I folded some laundry and put it away before that. Did some filing, so to speak and have plans to later go through the flyers and make a list of which sales I'd like to try and hit tomorrow.
What the fuck?!
The craziest thing I've done tonight is partake of this lovely little cocktail sitting here in front of me (vodka and cranberry Gingerale is delightful). And at most I'll have two because I have to be up at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow due to various sporting engagements (not my own).
Sigh. Where have all the good times gone?
Part of the reason for my fierce house cleaning tonight is a) my husband isn't home so I always get more done and b) last weekend my husband's very nice aunt came and watched our children for us overnight and c) she very likely partook in a flea dip and looked into getting her Twinrex (sp?) shot after spending the night in our home. As I've mentioned before, we've got the four kids and both work full time. I don't know if I have bothered to mention we also have a Golden Retriever and two cats. The hair in here is like something out of a horror movie. We had to leave unexpectedly and it wasn't a trip for pleasure so my usual obsessive compulsive clean up before anybody enters our home wasn't able to happen...it wasn't pretty. Now my husband's aunt is an awesome lady. She's so nice and would never dream of mentioning the shape our home was in but I can't get it out of my head. Hence the guilty clean. Oh I've done it more than once. Someone will show up unexpectedly and our house is gross (which is more often than not) and then within either minutes to a day or two of them leaving I do a full scale attack on the house. And inevitably we don't have company again for two months and/or until the house is back to it's "charming" self.
But I digress....the whole point of this was I think I killed Fargs. And damnit, I liked her.
Cut to a Friday night in 2009. I just washed all my floors. Including my large living room floor on my hands and knees. I folded some laundry and put it away before that. Did some filing, so to speak and have plans to later go through the flyers and make a list of which sales I'd like to try and hit tomorrow.
What the fuck?!
The craziest thing I've done tonight is partake of this lovely little cocktail sitting here in front of me (vodka and cranberry Gingerale is delightful). And at most I'll have two because I have to be up at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow due to various sporting engagements (not my own).
Sigh. Where have all the good times gone?
Part of the reason for my fierce house cleaning tonight is a) my husband isn't home so I always get more done and b) last weekend my husband's very nice aunt came and watched our children for us overnight and c) she very likely partook in a flea dip and looked into getting her Twinrex (sp?) shot after spending the night in our home. As I've mentioned before, we've got the four kids and both work full time. I don't know if I have bothered to mention we also have a Golden Retriever and two cats. The hair in here is like something out of a horror movie. We had to leave unexpectedly and it wasn't a trip for pleasure so my usual obsessive compulsive clean up before anybody enters our home wasn't able to happen...it wasn't pretty. Now my husband's aunt is an awesome lady. She's so nice and would never dream of mentioning the shape our home was in but I can't get it out of my head. Hence the guilty clean. Oh I've done it more than once. Someone will show up unexpectedly and our house is gross (which is more often than not) and then within either minutes to a day or two of them leaving I do a full scale attack on the house. And inevitably we don't have company again for two months and/or until the house is back to it's "charming" self.
But I digress....the whole point of this was I think I killed Fargs. And damnit, I liked her.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
PMS and Why
Okay lady friends (and those gentleman who've decided to peruse this entry), we all know how much we hate to be accused of having PMS. Sure, sure, it's fine for us to admit we have it or joke about having it but please, for the Love of God, don't tell us that's what our problem is...
For example, I had a mood swing so extreme this past Saturday that I'm sure a slight tsunami was created. Had a great day. So relaxed. Caught up on a bunch of TV shows, laid on the couch, just vegged. It was super fantastic. Felt really good about it. Then it was time to get up and get moving again. Off to work a fundraiser for my son's upcoming trip to Europe. I didn't want to go. I dislike 98% of the people in the fundraising group. It was cold out. I was going to be mixing drinks, in the cold, for the next three hours straight. With idiots. Anyway, my youngest had woken up from his nap and I was trying to get ready so I called (yelled really loudly and probably somewhat demanding-ly) down to my husband to ask him to come and get this guy up and out of his crib. And my husband had the nerve to respond in kind. He yelled at me! Can you believe it? I certainly did not. I was only raising my voice to be helpful and heard over the TV....and even if I was being somewhat 'curt' there is certainly no need to yell back. So then after a mild discussion in the bedroom where he had the audacity to accuse ME of freaking out, I lost my mind for about 30 seconds. I may or may not have picked up and slammed down a decorative basket. I may have raised my voice ever so slightly to impress upon an important point I was making. Really, the details are not important, what is important, is I was fucking mad. So mad I was even kind of surprised at myself. In the moment, I was convinced this was very likely HIS fault. So I left the house without saying another word and drove to the meeting spot for the fundraiser.
Cut to Tim Horton's parking lot. I inform my co-fundraisers I will be driving in by myself and am relieved when they don't ask why. Actually, to back it up a bit, on the 10 minute drive to Tim Horton's I considered saying "fuck it" and heading to Saskatoon or to Regina and using my credit card and just having a night away and not telling my husband where I was or what I was doing. As this likely would've really smoothed things over between us. I should point out that Saskatoon is the farther place from me, and it's only two hours away. I'm a rebel. So rebellious, in fact, that instead I went to the fundraiser.
Anywho, I tell the ladies I'm going alone. And maybe there was a touch of crazy in my eyes because no one argued or asked why. They simply accepted this. I did not look at what they were driving, just got into my SUV-crossover type of vehicle, that seats 7, and sped off to Regina. I beat them to our destination and waited in the parking lot. They pulled in. Five people in a little four door sedan. They all saw me get out of vehicle and then shoe-horned themselves out of theirs. Now, I'm not a fan of some of these folks, but I felt like a real a-hole.
So then it was time to start bartending. Myself and my 'partner' (read: idiot) were supposed to be making rye & cokes. Just for future reference and for those of you non-drinkers, rye and cokes are comprised of two things: rye. and. coke. So football fans are thirsty people and apparently when it's cold they can't get enough rye and coke. There was some pressure involved in this situation. So I set to filling cups with ice and shots of rye. I looked around for my partner/idiot and noticed she and her big ass were filling up a jug with pink lemonade. Confused? I was. And enraged. It took every last ounce of self control and common decency not to go over and yank the jug out of her hand and ask her what the fuck she was doing. Sorry if you are offended by the language (if you are, we probably shouldn't ever converse in person, especially if I'm at work) but I literally just stared at her for awhile, bottle of Rye in my hand and a tiny bit of irrational hatred in my heart. This carried on for most of the evening. She bumped into my with her ass more times than I care to mention and always managed to be in the way. Helpful, thanks.
But I've let this get away from me...by the time I got home that night (after offering a ride home to some of my co-fundraisers so as not to feel as quite as big of an ass) I was in a good mood again. Cuddled up with said husband who I nearly shanked prior to leaving the house and all was good.
That was definitely the biggest swing but it happened on the worst possible day. I've had little ups and downs since. Today I was not waited on in a timely fashion in a clothing store so left all of my stuff on the counter and walked out....maybe some leftover hormone issues there. Patience isn't really my strength to begin with.
Point being, why the hell does PMS have to be so crazy? You never know from month to month what it will bring; it could be cramps from hell or bloating that just won't quit or several small or one major psychotic episode. Really, Mother Nature, what's the point? Give us girls a break. Then I got to thinking, maybe the whole point is to make this special time of the month so miserable, us girls will just keep getting knocked up to avoid it. Aha! I'm sure there's some kind of study done on that. Either way I'll carry on with being crazy because if I have anymore kids someday one idiot is going to get in my way and end up with a jug of pink lemonade shoved up her ass.
For example, I had a mood swing so extreme this past Saturday that I'm sure a slight tsunami was created. Had a great day. So relaxed. Caught up on a bunch of TV shows, laid on the couch, just vegged. It was super fantastic. Felt really good about it. Then it was time to get up and get moving again. Off to work a fundraiser for my son's upcoming trip to Europe. I didn't want to go. I dislike 98% of the people in the fundraising group. It was cold out. I was going to be mixing drinks, in the cold, for the next three hours straight. With idiots. Anyway, my youngest had woken up from his nap and I was trying to get ready so I called (yelled really loudly and probably somewhat demanding-ly) down to my husband to ask him to come and get this guy up and out of his crib. And my husband had the nerve to respond in kind. He yelled at me! Can you believe it? I certainly did not. I was only raising my voice to be helpful and heard over the TV....and even if I was being somewhat 'curt' there is certainly no need to yell back. So then after a mild discussion in the bedroom where he had the audacity to accuse ME of freaking out, I lost my mind for about 30 seconds. I may or may not have picked up and slammed down a decorative basket. I may have raised my voice ever so slightly to impress upon an important point I was making. Really, the details are not important, what is important, is I was fucking mad. So mad I was even kind of surprised at myself. In the moment, I was convinced this was very likely HIS fault. So I left the house without saying another word and drove to the meeting spot for the fundraiser.
Cut to Tim Horton's parking lot. I inform my co-fundraisers I will be driving in by myself and am relieved when they don't ask why. Actually, to back it up a bit, on the 10 minute drive to Tim Horton's I considered saying "fuck it" and heading to Saskatoon or to Regina and using my credit card and just having a night away and not telling my husband where I was or what I was doing. As this likely would've really smoothed things over between us. I should point out that Saskatoon is the farther place from me, and it's only two hours away. I'm a rebel. So rebellious, in fact, that instead I went to the fundraiser.
Anywho, I tell the ladies I'm going alone. And maybe there was a touch of crazy in my eyes because no one argued or asked why. They simply accepted this. I did not look at what they were driving, just got into my SUV-crossover type of vehicle, that seats 7, and sped off to Regina. I beat them to our destination and waited in the parking lot. They pulled in. Five people in a little four door sedan. They all saw me get out of vehicle and then shoe-horned themselves out of theirs. Now, I'm not a fan of some of these folks, but I felt like a real a-hole.
So then it was time to start bartending. Myself and my 'partner' (read: idiot) were supposed to be making rye & cokes. Just for future reference and for those of you non-drinkers, rye and cokes are comprised of two things: rye. and. coke. So football fans are thirsty people and apparently when it's cold they can't get enough rye and coke. There was some pressure involved in this situation. So I set to filling cups with ice and shots of rye. I looked around for my partner/idiot and noticed she and her big ass were filling up a jug with pink lemonade. Confused? I was. And enraged. It took every last ounce of self control and common decency not to go over and yank the jug out of her hand and ask her what the fuck she was doing. Sorry if you are offended by the language (if you are, we probably shouldn't ever converse in person, especially if I'm at work) but I literally just stared at her for awhile, bottle of Rye in my hand and a tiny bit of irrational hatred in my heart. This carried on for most of the evening. She bumped into my with her ass more times than I care to mention and always managed to be in the way. Helpful, thanks.
But I've let this get away from me...by the time I got home that night (after offering a ride home to some of my co-fundraisers so as not to feel as quite as big of an ass) I was in a good mood again. Cuddled up with said husband who I nearly shanked prior to leaving the house and all was good.
That was definitely the biggest swing but it happened on the worst possible day. I've had little ups and downs since. Today I was not waited on in a timely fashion in a clothing store so left all of my stuff on the counter and walked out....maybe some leftover hormone issues there. Patience isn't really my strength to begin with.
Point being, why the hell does PMS have to be so crazy? You never know from month to month what it will bring; it could be cramps from hell or bloating that just won't quit or several small or one major psychotic episode. Really, Mother Nature, what's the point? Give us girls a break. Then I got to thinking, maybe the whole point is to make this special time of the month so miserable, us girls will just keep getting knocked up to avoid it. Aha! I'm sure there's some kind of study done on that. Either way I'll carry on with being crazy because if I have anymore kids someday one idiot is going to get in my way and end up with a jug of pink lemonade shoved up her ass.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Just One More Thing
Just a little addendum to my previous note to our precious senior friends:
Rinsing your dentures off in the sink in the public bathroom in Zellers is NOT OKAY. #1: this is very unsanitary. Ger-ross. #2: I don't ever ever want to see your dentures out of your mouth. However if I'm in said bathroom and am washing my hands after using the facilities and I happen to glance over to see what it is your flinging back and forth under the tap over there, do not glare at me like I've commited some crime! I'm just following basic hygiene practises, you are the one bucking several accepted norms of proper social behaviour! And, #3: I had to work very hard not to get the giggles after you glared at me whilst waving your teeth around in the sink next to me. If I can't maintain control I come off lookin' like the crazy. #4: it's just not okay!
Rinsing your dentures off in the sink in the public bathroom in Zellers is NOT OKAY. #1: this is very unsanitary. Ger-ross. #2: I don't ever ever want to see your dentures out of your mouth. However if I'm in said bathroom and am washing my hands after using the facilities and I happen to glance over to see what it is your flinging back and forth under the tap over there, do not glare at me like I've commited some crime! I'm just following basic hygiene practises, you are the one bucking several accepted norms of proper social behaviour! And, #3: I had to work very hard not to get the giggles after you glared at me whilst waving your teeth around in the sink next to me. If I can't maintain control I come off lookin' like the crazy. #4: it's just not okay!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)