Okay, we've already established that sadistic prickweenies abound--especially in my profession. Today, they've officially gotten to me--I think they're giving me cramps. (Of course, that could be my menstrual cycle, but I'm unreasonble and cranky today, and I'm going to blame the sadistic prickweenies. Go ahead. Challenge me on this.) Today, because it's my blog and I'm feeling like a big, water-retaining, sleep-deprived, over-taxed, pissed off witchipoo with bad hair, I'm going to make a list of the sadists who've made my life a nit-bitchy well of absurd crapism. (But first I'm going to truly, sunnily, and sincerely thank Roxie, whose review on my book yesterday was pretty much the brightest ray of sunshine of my day. You're awesome, sweetie--I'm sending you chocolate by telekinesis, as soon as I develop that ability... okay, okay...now back to my rant...)
And the top 10 sadists that are giving Amy Lane crap in this lifetime are...
** My adorable baby daughter who is so cute and so grateful for her bottle during the day that I"m finding it impossible to stop expressing milk in the mornings and during lunch. That's 2 hours of sleep a week I'm giving up, not to mention knitting time during lunch, just to give her one bottle of real stuff during the day instead of powdered formula. Considering how much chow she eats besides formula, I'm convinced there's some sort of endorphin in her smile to make me keep doing this.
**The laundry monster, that eats up ten minutes of every timed-out morning because it refuses to vomit out one lousy stinking pair of jeans for the cave troll. I don't care what you say, that thing has been next to the bed so long, it's sentient.
**My oldest daughter, who gave the Cave Troll the new copy of Over the Hedge at 8:00 last night, giving us the unhappy choice of A. Letting him stay up and watch it or B. Wrench him away kicking and screaming at the injustice of it all. We chose option A. We're bad parents. He went to bed at 9:30 last night and was a zombie this morning--but at least we didn't have to play the bedtime game for an hour. Did I mention we're bad parents?
**The group of self-rightous pricks who sat in my staff-room today and bitched about the horrible things that went into fast-food and how evil it was to need caffeine. If I wanted to know what was in my food, I would learn how to frickin' cook, and if I was a spineless, ball-less, self-serving, self-satisfied, arrogant alcoholic too self-involved to commit to a person, puppy, or profession then I'd be a dumb-shit man too goddamned stupid to figure out that it's out and out dangerous to tell a menstruating woman that caffeine is BAD FUCKING THING!!!!
**The ugly hand of fate that decreed that there would be a gang-war on my campus today, mandating that even the most irritating little bastard can not be sent to the office because they are trying to file police reports and clean the blood off the nurse's office walls. (Sadly, I am not exaggerating.)
**The Time Bitch, who has chosen this moment to suck the red out of my hair and replace it with gray, and now, with four kids and a full time job, I have to make the decision if I'm going to suck it up and start dying my hair for real now, or if I should just go gray. (If anyone's waiting in suspense for the answer to this question, you need to know that I have no fewer than four different shades of permanent hair dye in my closet. I'm just waiting for the resolve.)
**Mate--because he has King's tickets and he really wants me to go, and I'd give an entire mammary right now for just two hours more sleep spread out over the next three days.
**The agents listed in the writer's market, who don't return your packets, don't return your calls, and essentially live to taunt those of us who don't live in New York with their coolness and the fact that fat teachers from California will never know the secret handshakes that will let them in.
**Knitting magazines. There's always a cooler pattern and a cooler yarn that I will never have time/money to use. Damn them all, may they proliferate and grow.
**The mucking fuppet who stocked the vending machines in the staff lounge because why, in the name of the four unholy she-demons of PMS would you, in workplace that's over 70% female, choose NOT TO STOCK ANY GODDAMNED CHOCOLATE!
*whew* I'm going to McDonalds for now for a chocolate cookies, a giant soda, and a quarter pounder with cheese.
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4 comments:
I say, dye your hair pink. That'll show the prick weenies who is really in charge.
Let me know if you need a line on colored hair dye.
I am dying to know who the dumbasses in your staff room were today. I have some theories, but seriously, you'd have to be some kind of special to have that conversation today. And weren't the riotous caged masses fun today? I just love that place sometimes. Sorry you're vexed. I hope the McD's helped.
Two words about dying your hair: 1.Time 2.Money. If you just let it go you will save both. If someone gives you flack about those, "wisdom feathers," just look 'em square in the eye and say, "I EARNED them!"
In the last week, I just got back two 18 month old rejections. How does it feel to hold people's dreams in your hands for a year and a half before gently grinding them underfoot? Luckily, these are rejections on the book I have already self-published, so no worries.
I am offering Lindor Balls to the Goddess on your behalf today. Two amoretto and one milk chocolaate.
and then stop by Wendy's for a nice supersize frosty!
Oh, and get an extra one to throw at the next chump who gets in your way.
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