At least my cranky pants make my ass look good

I'm in a pissy mood.  This may be explained partly by my lack of sleep.  My lack of sleep can be explained by a combination of being sad that my hockey team was eliminated from the playoffs last night after some questionable calls in the 3rd period and overtime, and partly by my allergies.  Perhaps I am in a pissy mood because The Husband has been working a lot and therefore is under sooo much stress, and I am therefore both handling the stress of picking up his slack and dealing with him bitching about his stress.  In any case, this is my venue to bitch about the things that piss me off.

I do not want to hear my cubicle neighbor complain about  how overworked she is, since she has plenty of time to have loud conversations about what she is buying her mom for Mother's Day, and about other people's boyfriends being jackasses, and about her newly renovated kitchen (digital pictures of which she feels the need to show to everyone who enters our cube farm.)  I also wish she didn't make such a huge fucking deal about how she and Casey were CPR training partners for the past two years, so she has to wait until he has signed up for training this year (she is in charge of tracking the registrations) before she can choose which session to attend.  When I see Casey at happy hour in a few days, I will have to remind him to sign up so that she will Shut.the.Hell.Up.

I hate going to training on how to use the oh, so complicated (note my sarcasm) A/V equipment in the conference rooms, and having people make it much more of a deal than it is.  OK, so the conference call used the touch screen instead of an actual phone.  But, seriously, the touch screen has a freaking phone keypad and a button that says "Call," so the process for making the call is Just.Like.Using.the.Phone.

I have dance class tonight, and will therefore be missing dinner at home.  I left two choices of dinner in the fridge for The Husband.  Is that enough for him?  NO.  I also have to give him every option of what to have WITH the main dish.  As though he cannot open the goddamned freezer to see that vegetables we have, and look in the goddamned pantry to see that rice/pasta/potato side dishes are available.

Seriously, world, don't make me have to get my boots dirty.

Comments

[Ree]

Sometimes getting your boots dirty is the only way to survive babe!

[DeeDee]

And I thought my husband was the only one who would starve to death if I didn't tell him what he needed to eat when I'm not going to be there! What is it with them. There are times where I want to tell him to eat a fucking bowl of cereal or starve dumbass, I'll be home later!

Hope your mood picked up!

By the way, I found your blog through DadGoneMad. I've posted a complete list of everyone who left their blog link in a post called Blog Rolling With My Homies over on my blog, so if you want to see it come on over and sit a spell. I don't bite..…that hard anyway!