God, I am soooo bitchy today...
and I don't really know why.
It's not PMS.
It'd BETTER NOT be PMS. That shit just ended not to long ago. Not time for that yet, though ya couldn't tell it from lookin' at me right now.
Pft.
AS USUAL, I get no response.
EVERYBODY ELSE on the fuckin' planet he hears, but not my ass.
He either doesn't hear the radio ONLY when it's me calling or he blows me off with "I'll call ya back in a minute", which he never does.
I motherfuckin' HATE that. Then, I get to work and just got more and more pissed off with each stall I got to that was just destroyed with hay flung hither and yon. I fuckin' HATE HAY.
Shit oughta be processed into cubes. No loose hay allowed EVER.
Fuckin' stupid hay wastin' horses.
They drag it all outta the rack, dribble it every-fuckin'-where, then do the fuckin' Watusi or some damned thing, just to make sure it's as mixed into the sawdust and shit as equine-ly fuckin' possible because that's just soooooooo much fuckin' FUN to hafta fuck with endlessly.
Fuckin' punkasses. Then, I finally get done with that shit and go to the feed store and the people store... grocery store, shut up. Can I DO this with no fucknoodles?
Oh HELL (fuckin') NO.
I hafta have some stupid old crock cunt standing on her fuckin' brakes all the way into the parking lot.
Y'okay, bitch. Let's do a half a fuckin' mile an hour here. I'VE GOT ALL GODDAMNED DAY!!!!!
Then, the fuckhead STOPS and just sits there, pickin' her nose or some fuckin' thing.
Which is fine, considering SHE'S THE ONLY PERSON ON THE FUCKIN' PLANET AND NOBODY ELSE NEEDS TO MOVE!!!!
Fuckin' old whore.
MOVE, YOU FUCKIN' CRACKHEAD!!!!!! God, I hate humans.... Then, I get home and STILL these useless fuckin' cats have cleaned NOTHING in here.
Bitches. This house looks like a goddamned tornado went through, liked it, and stayed a while. And, guess who gets to clean it all by herSELF?!!? Yeah, me... Miss Bitchypants. And, I swear to fuckin' GOD, if April doesn't shut the fuck UP RIGHT NOW, I am gonna go kick her ass so hard it comes out her big, fat, gum-flappin', barkin' MOUTH!
Yappin'-at-nothing BITCH. The longer this day goes on, the more reasons I'm being given to praise GOD that DucT tape was invented. I could use that stuff in ever so many ways. Tape that yappin' bitches face shut.
Tape a goddamned sluicefork to those hay-wastin' punks front hooves and let THEM clean that shit up a day or two and see how THEY like it.
Of course, I am gonna go right behind 'em and fuck it all up again, too.
Make it look like they never cleaned up a single piece of hay or turd, just like they do to me.
Fuckers.
I could tape a few cats outside, the males... the ones who wanna pull rape tactics on the girls, piss all over the fuckin' place and make messes.
I can see it now.
Buncha Tom's taped to the side of the house in a crucifiction pose.
I could tape Eric's radio to his fuckin' head so he'd HEAR THE FUCKIN' THING. Believe me, I could go through about 99 rolls of DucT tape right now and still need another one. AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! *coupla seconds later* Deeeep breaths.
Pull it in, Chick, pull it in.
Throw something through a window, then do that Fonzie-stopping-freaking-out manuver he does... Times like this I wish I knew karate or jujitsu or something mean and martial-artsy so I could beat the shit outta the world and look cool doing it and not even be breathin' hard when I'm done, ya know?
(Yo, GOD. Can I be Billy Jack next time 'round, PLEASE? Thanks.) Fuckin' God, man.
Where is alla this pissed off-ness coming from? There is nothing bad going on.
In fact, my one cat who has been injured (by I don't know what) is doing muuuch better.
Everybody is alive... so far.
I've got nothing "pending" that I hate... except tomorrow back in those hay-fucked-up stalls. (And by the way... less weight, more reps is working out really well. My arms feel much better. So much better, in fact, I have the strength left to beat the snot outta whoMever needs it.)
I don't know what the fuck ails me right now, but, if anybody needs anybody else's ass kicked, won'tcha please call me and let me do it, pleeeeease?
I promise, ya won't recoginze them when I'm done.
Unless, of course, you're a DNA expert, 'cause all that'll be left of them is a blood splotch on the ground, I swear. Jeezus. Can ya even imagine what's gonna happen if somebody really does do something REAL to piss me off?
Scary thought, man, scary thought. Not to eeeeven mention, I have about 39 other things, pleasant things even, to write about, but I'm so hopped up right now, I can't even think of 'em...
All I can do is type "fuckin'" faster than any other word in the English language and keep scrubbing my hands up and down my face, but... not at the same time.
Unless I do each thing with just one hand...
Cool part is, either thing with either hand.
I'm ambidextriously enraged.
And I don't know why.
And that blows. ANYway...
I'm gonna go.... clean or destroy something.
I hope it's "clean", but... ya never know, do ya?
Ya start out with the best of intentions, then some piddlin' ass stupid shit just haaaaas to happen, like air touching me, and I hafta stop what I'm trying to do to have a lil freak out for a while.
And, you do know of course, that the highway to hell is paved with good intentions? Well folks, I'm on the Teflon Turnpike on that count, lem'me tell ya's. I intend NOT to be a spastic fucknozzle and lookit me. Where the hell are the Morphine pills when ya need 'em? *clicks "save" whilst repeatedly banging head on desk*
Wonder if the fact that today was my 60th day in a row with NO DAYS OFF from work has anything do it widdit?
Comments
1
Love,
When you get really pissed, you write like Hemmingway! No, not Sam Hemmingway, the town drunk. Even though you're mad as hell, I have to laugh, because of the humor you throw in there. May I suggest that when you get tossed into one of those moods, sit dwon(a variation of *my real name*, I think..)DOWN and write Norm. He'd be glad to hear from you, and may perk you up with
some of his smart-assedness. (I don't know where he -and you- got that from..)
When you get really pissed, you write like Hemmingway! No, not Sam Hemmingway, the town drunk. Even though you're mad as hell, I have to laugh, because of the humor you throw in there. May I suggest that when you get tossed into one of those moods, sit dwon(a variation of *my real name*, I think..)DOWN and write Norm. He'd be glad to hear from you, and may perk you up with
some of his smart-assedness. (I don't know where he -and you- got that from..)
Posted by: yer Dad at February 09, 2006 09:46 AM (AUWqx)
2
Hemmingway, huh?
Well daaaamn...
He must be one profane sumbitch.
Guess I oughta give him a read someday, shouldn't I?
*grin*
And, honestly?
When I write in *that* mode, it makes me laugh at myself, too... after I reread it.
One of the multudinous reason I do that... *(maniacal)grin*
(Oh, and I changed that one word in your comment to "my real name" because I try not to have my real name on here anywhere, lest the wrong person "find" me... like Eric's ex-cunt or anybody else I hate (hello, entire planet... *grin*). Not that I don't tell select people my real name and I really don't mind if people know it, I just don't want it on here, where it can be "crawled" by search engines and put together with any of my many last names allowing random assholes to find and mess with me.
See? (Which I know ya don't, 'cause that's one of those "*under the carburetor" kinda things...)
Really, it's cool, I fixed it. I just wanted to letcha know why I "edited" it.)
(*And, "under the carburetor" means exactly that... shit having to do with fixing cars that's located under the carb. While I'm just great with changing oil, gaskets, tranny fluid, plugs, plug wires, distributor caps, rotors and shit like that that's located on TOP of an engine, when I hafta delve under said carb, I need either a Chilton's manual or a guy friend/mechanic to babysit me whilst I work....)
Well daaaamn...
He must be one profane sumbitch.
Guess I oughta give him a read someday, shouldn't I?
*grin*
And, honestly?
When I write in *that* mode, it makes me laugh at myself, too... after I reread it.
One of the multudinous reason I do that... *(maniacal)grin*
(Oh, and I changed that one word in your comment to "my real name" because I try not to have my real name on here anywhere, lest the wrong person "find" me... like Eric's ex-cunt or anybody else I hate (hello, entire planet... *grin*). Not that I don't tell select people my real name and I really don't mind if people know it, I just don't want it on here, where it can be "crawled" by search engines and put together with any of my many last names allowing random assholes to find and mess with me.
See? (Which I know ya don't, 'cause that's one of those "*under the carburetor" kinda things...)
Really, it's cool, I fixed it. I just wanted to letcha know why I "edited" it.)
(*And, "under the carburetor" means exactly that... shit having to do with fixing cars that's located under the carb. While I'm just great with changing oil, gaskets, tranny fluid, plugs, plug wires, distributor caps, rotors and shit like that that's located on TOP of an engine, when I hafta delve under said carb, I need either a Chilton's manual or a guy friend/mechanic to babysit me whilst I work....)
Posted by: Stevie at February 09, 2006 12:47 PM (kL4Gm)
3
once again you have managed to start my day with a smile - - and I needed one today. Hope today is a better one for you??? Later, Mar
Posted by: mary at February 10, 2006 08:22 AM (yyIXz)
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