I eat breakfast every work day at the same time. Not out of any neurotic OCD obsessiveness, that’s just crazy, but from pure introvert obsessiveness which is totally sane and relatable. At 10:15 every morning the snack bar is almost completely void of the scourge known as “other people” and there are plenty of quiet corners I can hide in and happily devour my grilled cheese sandwich like it was a dairy covered lover complete with soft but inappropriate noises of appreciation, ecstasy induced eye rolling, leg shaking and prolific licking of the fingers with cringe worthy slurping noises. It’s my scheduled 10 minutes of unadulterated joy every day and while it will probably land me with several sexual harassment complaints at some point for now it’s “my precious” and anyone that disturbs it instantly earns a place near the top of my wish list for when we finally institute the purge. So imagine my face when I’m settling into my quiet corner in the huge and empty cafeteria for my daily dose of cheesy euphoria when this low down, no good, shit mitten, muff scratt, tub fart, warthog faced, Shrek looking bag of bitch had the nerve, the nerve I say to Sit.Across.From.Me!!! There’s a whole open goddamn dining room the size of Donald Trump’s giant floppy ass that’s emptier than a condom machine after seventh fleet shore leave but this puerile cunty big balls decides forcibly inserting himself into my quiet place during love sandwich mastication time at the very next table seems like a swell idea. AND THEN doesn’t even have the decency to turn his back to me but sits facing me like some sort of social decency deviant. Dude!!! I sat there stink eyeing him like a disdainful meerkat thinking I could silently make him uncomfortable enough to move but apparently not because as god as my witness THAT MOTHERFUCKER SMILED AT ME!!! What kind of psychopath does that??? And before one of you soft hearted snot rags @’s me with a, “maybe he was lonely” you can just stuff it. Let him get drunk and call 900 numbers and government officials like the rest of us instead of terrorizing attractive (sort of) young (vaguely) women during their daily conjugal cheese visit. For crying out loud there is not a bag of dicks big enough to even respond to that nonsense.
Tag: cranky
Andventures with Angus, Butt Sandwiches and the Bathroom at My Exes House
I almost killed my dog Angus the other day. Not on purpose and not with unattended butter this time but with my more than ample buttocks.
I may have mentioned my dogs are fairly out of control and any attempt and creating boundaries is useless. At this point even if I tried to enforce them they would think I was just playing and then knock me down and try to eat my hair. With my training skills I’m beginning to think it’s a very good thing I don’t have children. They would probably end up being the terror of Phelps and the surrounding counties and people would secretly refer to them as Dahmer and Bundy behind my back. But I digress.
So being the out of control mongrels that they are they tend to think they are entitled to go everywhere with me no matter what I’m doing. For some reason especially when I go to Dave’s house Angus and Donald think they have to go to the bathroom with me and protect me from the shower curtain. While Donald just flops down on the floor and gives the shower the stink eye while making disgruntled huffing noises at it, Angus jumps right on in the bathtub and sniffs the curtain from the back side then rolls around on his back in the tub. Unless there’s water in it, then he jumps back out and prances around like a dainty ballerina trying to dry his feet off by sniffing then licking them one by one. I have no idea why. Because he’s Angus I guess.
So I’m at Dave’s and we go through our bathroom routine, I go to do my business assuming Angus is in the tub like he always is, and not thinking to look behind me to make sure I have proper clearance I go to sit down when what should my lumbering butt cheek feel but a warm, furry little head instead of cold toilet seat.
You know those stories of how distraught mothers, fueled by adrenaline when their child is stuck under a crashed car suddenly have the strength to pull the car off their baby? I have to believe that super human adrenaline strength and a whole lotta sweet baby Jesus intervention saved Angus from being the filling in a tukhus and toilet sandwich that day. I am neither a small woman or a fit one and the only toned muscle on my body is the one in my arm that delivers food to my mouth, seconded only by the one that moves my middle finger to wave at people that irritate me when I’m driving. So it is truly a miracle that Angus is still alive. I almost yanked the paper dispenser off the wall and felt muscles in my butt, thighs, abdomen and ribs that I didn’t even know existed until I tried to suddenly reverse course, like a panicked and frantically unintended Wayne and Garth schwing salute. Angus on the other hand didn’t even notice that he’d almost had a catastrophic collision with a deadly full moon. He happily continued lapping up refreshing toilet water like nothing had happened. Because he’s Angus.
I Really Miss Hot Colonel
Super long, super gross story here. My sinuses turned septic (<self-diagnosis) earlier this week and I ended up taking two days off. Back today but thinking perhaps I should have stayed home as every little thing seems like a huge ordeal. First I had some weird existential crisis over my breakfast sandwich. Took a bite that was too hot, while simultaneously realizing I had forgotten to put salsa on it and also a bit of egg fell off. I had to sit still for a second and fight tears because I couldn’t think of which issue to deal with first. I did eventually take a drink to deal with my burning mouth but had to wrap the sandwich up, turn away from it and pull myself together for a few minutes just to finish a god damn egg sandwich. Also, it took me an hour process that whole sentence into words.
Then had some sort of aneurism trying to talk to hot Colonel. I brought tea and tea cookies in for National Tea Day and put up a sign that said so. Hot Colonel came by and says, “Beth, is it National Tea Day?” Christ, has he not met me?? That is so not a question to ask a jack ass. BUT, it was also HOT flipping Colonel who by the way is also my boss’s boss’s boss. Never mind being adorable AF. So my poor festering head was trying cope with A) Hot colonel talking to me and saying my name in his oh so amazing way. B) Hot Colonel asking me a Captain Obvious question that normally I would have snarked all to hell and C) trying to respond in a coherent manner to basically the head of my chain of command. You can probably guess how well that went. I just stared at him, drooling like a pot head staring at a fresh bag of Doritos after finishing a solo fatty. I may have scratched my pit. I did finally manage to say, “Yes……sir.” And then he thankfully he took a hand full of cookies left. Pretty sure he thinks I’m high.
Also, there’s a funny taste in the back of my mouth that kind of suggests my sinuses may be bleeding. Seriously, I think need to go home.
Stomach Bugs and F-bombs
I had a unpleasant stomach bug over the weekend and haven’t quite bounced back to my normal, sweet, sparkly unicorn self (< ha ha, sarcasm) and am crankier than Kardashians denied access to a camera crew and wealthy black men. It’s been really hard not to throw the eff word around like glitter at a strip club. I’m normally pretty good at pretending to be interested in what my coworkers are saying. It’s usually not that hard to say, “oh really? And what did she say to that?” and then follow up the appropriate uh-huh’s and sure’s when internally I’m thinking, “You are dumber than a box of hair and I wish I could kill you with fire.” But even that’s been tough today. The most I can muster is a dead stare that apparently says I want to eat your soul with grape jelly and biscuits judging by the way people have started to avoid speaking to me. I honestly don’t mean to be a soul sucking harpy. Usually I’m such an ADD riddled flake that everything is entertaining in some way but since my surprise colon cleanse I’ve just been a big ole pile of angst and loathing. A human grumpy cat that just wants to shout NO! at everyone and conspicuously close the elevator doors on people trying to catch it and openly pick my nose while other people are trying to eat. I’m sure it will go away in a day or two but until then y’all should probably avoid inviting me to dinner.
Diary of a Dog Hoarding Spinster 