I say “Screw all those freaking feel-good meme’s out there” and in that vein, I am completing one that allows me to complain about things (more than usual), which I was mass tagged for by my friend Sara.
In no particular order, I present to you my current shit list.
1. The Month Of January. Is it just me or does this month suck? The only holiday (holidays tend to be what can make or break a month for me, because I am 12.) I can think of is New Years Day, which I believe Hugh Hefner referred to as “ameteur night” and I agree with him. I’ve never had much good come out of this month aside from surviving it which does not a glowing recommendation make.
2. My Thyroid Gland. Although I have been undergoing testing and dosage increases (since October), it is still underactive and my hair is still falling out with alarming frequency. If this doesn’t get resolved soon, I am going to have to invest in some wigs. Which sounds a lot cooler than it is.
3. Morning People. Although I have hoped, wished, and possibly even prayed that I would somehow turn into this morning person that people claimed I could become, I have yet to see any results. My internal clock is set to be a night owl, and although the world doesn’t function on my time table, I have learned to cope. Until some asshole cheerful morning person gets all high and mighty on my ass, and then I want to regulate.
4. Election Year. Although I’m as happy as a pig in shit that GW will soon be out of office, I am really damn sick and tired of having to field phone calls/watch commercials/get mail all telling me that I should vote for XYZ Candidate. Just stop talking about WHO I should vote for, please?
5. People Who Live In My House But Shall Remain Nameless Who Are Unable To Reload The Toilet Paper. I mean, it’s not rocket science, and yet, I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO MANAGES TO DO IT.
6. Drivers Who Tailgate Through A Heavily Patrolled Neighborhood When I Am Going Slightly Over The Speed Limit. I mean, COME ON. I know you want to get wherever you are going, but I assure you that I do, too. But I want to do this WITHOUT paying a $75 ticket.
7. People Who Take Everything Personally. I have a friend who does this (no, not any of you.) and is convinced that I hate her if I haven’t called her back immediately, like I am somehow sitting at home and plotting AGAINST returning her call. While I appreciate that she gives me this much credit for being so scheming, it’s just not that complicated. I haven’t called her back because I have forgotten. Period.
(and trust me, if you read something on my blog, ever, that makes you think I am somehow knocking YOU personally, I’d like to remind you to reconsider. I assure you I am neither that smart or that cunning.)
8. Spandex Leggings. I know that the 80′s is making a comeback (Hello, American Gladiators!) and I’m pretty much okay with that, save for part of the fashion. The part that convinces women to wear spandex leggings underneath their dresses/oversized shirts. Why? BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUCKING STUPID. It did then, and it does now.
9. PPD. It’s not enough for women who have just had babies to be overtired, ridiculously hormonal, and disgusted that their asses got pregnant, too, but now we get to add depression into the mix. I mean, how fun is it to finally get something you’ve wanted for a long, long time and then find yourself weeping into the couch cushions BECAUSE THE PATERNITY RESULTS ON MAURY WEREN’T ON TODAY.
10. Blackberry’s. Now, I like to be as connected as the next person, and maybe it’s because I have no real need to be as connected as someone with a paid job (oooh! A comment for me to moderate!QUICK! MODERATE IT!), but I just can’t get behind a piece of technology that has made it socially acceptable to interrupt a conversation with a real, live person sitting in front of you to read an email. Color it any way you’d like, but it’s fucking rude and it’s tacky. There is nothing that cannot wait 30 seconds until the real live conversation is done. And if it’s genuinely so bloody important, the phone will ring.
Amazingly enough, this took me a long time to complete. I guess I’m not as angry as I thought that I was.
So tell your Aunt Becky, who is on YOUR current shit list? Who (or what) peed in YOUR cheerios today?
Last month (was it really a month ago?), I mentioned that maybe, just maybe I had once had a completely inappropriate crush on Vincent D’Onofrio for a spell, and that I had subsequently moved on to more snarky pastures (i.e. Anthony Bourdain).
But even in my wildest fantasies, I didn’t imply that I would have wanted to have hot monkey love with the guy. Either of ‘em. I’d have preferred that we sit around reading poetry to each other while occasionally discussing the virtues of Manet vs. Monet. And then mocking people mercilessly. (I’ll let you figure out who I would do what with).
So today I will present to you the one celebrity with whom I would love to have a night of (hot) gross, dirty sexin’: Tommy Lee.
Yes, you heard it here first: Tommy Lee. I want to have The Sex with Tommy Lee. And then never speak to him again.
I mean, shit, we know he’s packin’.
Your turn. Who would you like to get ridin’ DURRTY with?
——————–
A couple of weeks ago, one of my wonderful blog friends gave me an award (and no, I didn’t even pay her) that made my ickle heart smile. I haven’t mentioned it before for two reasons: one, I have no idea how to put the icon on my blog (I had been contemplating glue and scissors, but it didn’t work, and WHOO BOY did it make a MESS) and two, I had to choose some recipients for ME to award it to.
All right, even Niobe and all of her tech-y goodness couldn’t make it work. Dumb blog not doing what I want it to do.
This is not an easy task.
In spite of my tendency toward bitchiness, I am not very good at singling people out. Maybe it’s the mother in me, but I can’t help but want everyone to win and no one to feel sad (this may be the only nice part of my personality, so deal, people.).
The award is called Daily Dose, and it started over here. It’s supposed to be given to people whose blogs you cannot seem to live without. But if you’re blog is over on my blog roll, I probably at least check in with you once a day (not clever enough to use Google Reader, and I tried bloglines but it confused me, so yeah, I just click on your link here. I’m very high-tech, I know), so that’s not a good means to determine who I give an award to.
So I needed another qualifier and I’m using the word “Daily.” I will give you this award only if you post daily (some of my favorite blogs of all time do not have daily posts, mainly because other people tend to have actual lives, whereas I do not.).
Without further adieu, I present to you my recipients:
My darling Cali, who is going through a not-so-fun time in her life, and yet, remains cheerful and optimistic, which I love about her. Plus, we’re currently in a fight over who gets to be president of the Vincent D’Onofrio fan club, and maybe this will kill her with kindness until she allows me to reign over this important fan club job.
I will also give this award to my girl-crush Niobe , over at Dead Baby Jokes. She always posts something interesting or thought provoking and usually provides a snazzy picture or two that make me green with envy over her talent.
Miss Cricket has voluntarily agreed to post every day for the whole year, a feat that although I wish I could join her in, I am not brave enough. Plus, she just adopted a new kitty-cat, and I loves me my cats, so go check her out.
And lastly, I award this to Karen, who not only posts daily, but was my first (non-paid) Internet Person, whom I had never actually met (and yet, was not a spammer). I was shocked and thrilled that someone WHO I DIDN’T KNOW was reading my blog. Plus, she just got a new job, and how cool is that?
If I missed you and you post something most days, which I probably did, as this post has taken me a ridiculous amount of time to complete, give me a holler in the comments and I’ll include you up here.
Thanks again, Miss Em, for deciding that I was worthy of an award. I’ll admit, that maybe I blushed a wee bit when I saw that for once in my life, I’ve finally won something. For reals and for true.
I’m sitting, ass glued firmly to the couch cushions, television on for background noise purposes, baby happily babbling in his Exersaucer, and all of a sudden a female voice breaks into my thoughts:
“I have genital herpes” she confesses to me.
The camera pans to her partner, “and I don’t” he confidently informs us.
The commercial goes on to discuss more about these two shmoes goods than I ever cared to know while I sit there completely horrified, jaw gently grazing the cat-hair covered carpet. Why, oh why do I need to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to erase the image of herpatic-vessicle-covered vag-jay-jay’s from my already addled mind?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that we need to pretend like STD’s don’t happen by shushing it up (Lord knows Aunt Becky has seen more STD’s than you have. Because I’m a NURSE, you pervert! Get your mind outta the gutter.) and shaming those who have them into institutions or anything, not at all. Hell, plenty of people have them, live with them, while others have managed to barely dodge that bullet, and I don’t honestly think that it’s something to be all that ashamed about.
I just don’t need my Oprah interrupted by having to hear about and subsequently imagine sores on your flipping meat curtains.
Before you flog me for being insensitive to those who have herpes, let me assure you I also don’t really care to have my day interrupted by ads promising to rid me of that pesky yeasty discharge, freshen up the old curtains with a vinegar douche, or make sure I don’t piss my pants in public anymore. For awhile, I wondered if advertisers had somehow read my mind BECAUSE THAT WAS EXACTLY WHAT I HAD BEEN SUFFERING FROM! ALL OF IT. AT ONCE!
*ahem*
I kid, I kid.
I’m not going to pretend I haven’t dealt with some delicate conditions of my privates over the years, hell, I’ve even gleefully documented When Monistat Attacks (my husband is a very, very lucky man), went to the hospital after I peed my pants, but none of these things have put me on your television set. Sure, I talk about these delicate conditions on my blog, but you have voluntarily chosen to read (or click away quickly. Whateves. Can’t say that I blame you) and I swear to you on all that is holy, I’ve not been endorsed by a soul, and make not even one cent for writing this. In fact, I’m almost certain there are people who would pay me to NOT blog any longer.
Alas, I digress.
But seriously, could we PLEASE put a ban on having to watch people talk about the state of their junk? Even as someone who frequently asks “When was your last bowel movement?” I don’t want to have to consider the rashes of random stranger’s privates (and believe me when I tell you that I have actually had strangers want to “show me their rash” when I tell them that I am a nurse. It happened once on the subway and I will never, ever forget it, no matter how many cocktails I’ve downed.).
So what bugs YOU when you see it advertised? Is it the Viagra commercials? Or perhaps you hate the commercials about people getting shmaltzy about their cats and it makes you want to break your TV set, because those are annoying, too (and I loves me my animals).
Or maybe your Aunt Becky is just in uber-prude mode (which might be the first time ever I would be accused of being a prude. Ooooh Yeahhhhh.), and shouldn’t be bothered by something as simple as an STD medication and should probably get the hell over herself already (this is likely. Very, very likely). In this case, just tell me something, anything that bugs you today.
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