Aquajock
Cathlete
. . . with the relentless, streaming, generalized broad-spectrum bullshit of the universe?
If it's not the razor-nick that won't stop bleeding when you're in a hurry in the morning, it's the can opener you just bought that won't work. If it's not the overloud music in the store right when you're REALLY NOT IN THE MOOD, it's the guy who stands in the elevator doorway talking to someone in the hall while 10 people are in the elevator car. If it's not the woman who sat in your seat on the bus (!), it's the gas tank that somehow got to the red zone a day after you went to the gas station.
(This must be my Festivus Airing of Grievances three days late.)
I went to a belated Hanukkah party yesterday afternoon and was scheduled to help make latkes (kind of like glorified hash browns) before the rest of the guests arrived, despite the fact that I really suck at preparing food. One of the others on Team Latke (of which I've been a member for years, a fact which mystifies me) absolutely would not leave me alone - either the onion shards weren't shardy enough or I didn't squeeze enough juice out of the shredded potatoes or I was wasting too much time cleaning up or there was another too-large chunk of onion or . . . finally I blew my top and said, "MAYBE I JUST SHOULDN'T BE HERE!!!!!" That shut her up, not to mention the rest of the kitchen. We got past it, but I'm still just seeing the flyspecks and dog-doo of life.
I can't blame it on PMS because I think I'm in menopause. I just think that, every now and then, I feel like having a productive life entails going around being bitten to death by ducks 7 days a week, and I just want to crawl into my cave and pull the blanket over my head and hide.
Anyone else ever get in that zone?
Thanks for listening!
A-Jock
If it's not the razor-nick that won't stop bleeding when you're in a hurry in the morning, it's the can opener you just bought that won't work. If it's not the overloud music in the store right when you're REALLY NOT IN THE MOOD, it's the guy who stands in the elevator doorway talking to someone in the hall while 10 people are in the elevator car. If it's not the woman who sat in your seat on the bus (!), it's the gas tank that somehow got to the red zone a day after you went to the gas station.
(This must be my Festivus Airing of Grievances three days late.)
I went to a belated Hanukkah party yesterday afternoon and was scheduled to help make latkes (kind of like glorified hash browns) before the rest of the guests arrived, despite the fact that I really suck at preparing food. One of the others on Team Latke (of which I've been a member for years, a fact which mystifies me) absolutely would not leave me alone - either the onion shards weren't shardy enough or I didn't squeeze enough juice out of the shredded potatoes or I was wasting too much time cleaning up or there was another too-large chunk of onion or . . . finally I blew my top and said, "MAYBE I JUST SHOULDN'T BE HERE!!!!!" That shut her up, not to mention the rest of the kitchen. We got past it, but I'm still just seeing the flyspecks and dog-doo of life.
I can't blame it on PMS because I think I'm in menopause. I just think that, every now and then, I feel like having a productive life entails going around being bitten to death by ducks 7 days a week, and I just want to crawl into my cave and pull the blanket over my head and hide.
Anyone else ever get in that zone?
Thanks for listening!
A-Jock