Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Hey kids...
I saw something when I was leaving the gym this morning that somehow caught my eye. The colors stood out first, then it was the odd shape of the vehicle, then it was the massive advertising. This thing looks like a kidnap caboose. Plenty of room in the back for plenty of delightful children. I assume the driver is a harmless person simply running a small business from this fucking weird...truck? Station wagon? Cut up old Volkswagon bus? What the hell is it? But if you read it, it lists all things that would entice a child to look at it, read it, and chase it until the vehicle came to a stop. It does not, however, offer puppies which I feel is missing on this rig. Besides the fact that it appears to be a kidnap-mobile, it is also an advertisement of shit food when we're all leaving the gym. No, I do not want cotton candy, or snocones, or popcorn. But do you have ice cream sandwiches? I'd love an ice cream sandwich please! No? Then get the fuck out of the gym parking lot! You've wasted my time.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Hell's Kitchen Bleeeeeeeeep!
I have been pleasantly torturing myself for the past couple nights. I have decided, on purpose, to watch episodes from Hell's Kitchen on Hulu. I don't usually watch reality TV because I get what I call, severe embarrassment chills. They make me squirm, practically pull my hair out, and I scream at the TV with a bunch of "NOOOOOOOOs".
But what makes me most uncomfortable...is the swearing. Believe me, I swear more than my share and then some. I'm not always a lady with what exits my mouth. I know I would never have what it takes to do what they do without telling Chef Ramsey to take his tongs and shove them straight up his ass if he were to yell at me like that, but I thoroughly enjoy shouting at the TV about how stupid these people are. But what makes them more dumb than anything is every other word that comes out of all of their mouths is "BLEEP!" I cannot understand what they're even saying. I'm trying to hear what they're all bitching about, but at the same time trying to translate in my wee brain to match theirs in order to comprehend what the hell is even going on!
"That 'BLEEP' is a muth'BLEEP' fu'BLEEP'ing 'BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!"
What?
And...FOX is kind enough to pixilate their mouths and hand gestures as if we were looking at boobs and junk. Thanks, FOX for protecting my eyes so I can't see a damn thing and blowing up my ears with the screechy sounds to mask the ugliness that comes out of these people's faces. The best part? It's mostly the woman! They are so trashy, it's rad. So professional for people who desire to be Executive Chefs at a major restaurant. Yeah, good luck with that.
I'm watching what is going on, making fun of the fools for stupid mistakes, but mostly making fun of them for their crap behavior and crap attitudes.
Ramsey at least has earned the right to tell people to fuck off and/or piss off. Those are his favorites. They don't have to "BLEEP" him out to understand what is coming out of his mouth.
I have successfully given myself an anxiety attack watching this crap. Bring on the next episode!
But what makes me most uncomfortable...is the swearing. Believe me, I swear more than my share and then some. I'm not always a lady with what exits my mouth. I know I would never have what it takes to do what they do without telling Chef Ramsey to take his tongs and shove them straight up his ass if he were to yell at me like that, but I thoroughly enjoy shouting at the TV about how stupid these people are. But what makes them more dumb than anything is every other word that comes out of all of their mouths is "BLEEP!" I cannot understand what they're even saying. I'm trying to hear what they're all bitching about, but at the same time trying to translate in my wee brain to match theirs in order to comprehend what the hell is even going on!
"That 'BLEEP' is a muth'BLEEP' fu'BLEEP'ing 'BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!"
What?
And...FOX is kind enough to pixilate their mouths and hand gestures as if we were looking at boobs and junk. Thanks, FOX for protecting my eyes so I can't see a damn thing and blowing up my ears with the screechy sounds to mask the ugliness that comes out of these people's faces. The best part? It's mostly the woman! They are so trashy, it's rad. So professional for people who desire to be Executive Chefs at a major restaurant. Yeah, good luck with that.
I'm watching what is going on, making fun of the fools for stupid mistakes, but mostly making fun of them for their crap behavior and crap attitudes.
Ramsey at least has earned the right to tell people to fuck off and/or piss off. Those are his favorites. They don't have to "BLEEP" him out to understand what is coming out of his mouth.
I have successfully given myself an anxiety attack watching this crap. Bring on the next episode!
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Bitch Session
I have to write about this right now because it is happening...right now. There are two women here at the place that I frequent with their children. I love kids. Usually. I love kids when their parents aren't a little retarded. Hey, here's a good idea: Let's let the toddlers jump on and off the stage where there are massive wires and other miscellaneous tripping and electrical hazards! Fun kids! Fun!
What's super awesome is that all of Wenatchee is in a freaky windstorm and it's been shaking my house and several buildings. So, I thought coming in here would give me some sort of break from the crazy. Not so. Every time those "little ones" would land, my table shook like there was a goddamn earthquake. Oh, and there's a brick wall to catch their fall as well as a giant metal vent. Don't forget the outlet box sticking out for their little fingers to go into. Well done, moms!
Some people shouldn't breed.
What's super awesome is that all of Wenatchee is in a freaky windstorm and it's been shaking my house and several buildings. So, I thought coming in here would give me some sort of break from the crazy. Not so. Every time those "little ones" would land, my table shook like there was a goddamn earthquake. Oh, and there's a brick wall to catch their fall as well as a giant metal vent. Don't forget the outlet box sticking out for their little fingers to go into. Well done, moms!
Some people shouldn't breed.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Ticket!
There is a woman out here in lil' Wenatchee that loves her job. Loves it SO much that she wants to spread the love to the rest of us, even if we aren't interested. Actually, she loves me. She loves my car. She loves to hate my car. This woman is the Meter Maid. I am not a fan. Not at all.
There is a law here, unlike in Everett or Seattle, that you can only be parked in one spot for 3 hours - however, then you must LEAVE. Go! Get the hell out of town! I was under the impression that I could leave my parking spot at the 3 hour mark and then scoot on over to a new opening. There usually is an opening...and I take it. Well, I got my first ticket about a two to three months ago. Can't remember. Pissed? Yes. But I broke the rule by letting it go over by 20 minutes. Seriously. Then last month or so, got another. WTF? Then I got a scathing note on my car in angry doctor's handwriting telling me that I had been breaking some RCW-blah-blah-bullshit rule that apparently states that we are to not park within a 2 block radius of the businesses after 3 hours. Her chicken scratch continued by telling me to "PARK IN THE PARKING LOT!!!"
Oh, really? Three exclamation points? Got it. She's freaking serious about this rule that NO ONE knows exists unless they work at the local businesses. But okay. Got the message.
Well, my back that was feeling so not awesome this week made me want to puke when I thought of walking up from the parking lot carrying my silly heavy briefcase and silly heavy purse to the coffee shop. Luckily, I came across the Meter Maid before I parked in the parking lot as she was getting ready to leave. I rolled down my window and made very friendly small talk, even teasing her that she had clearly targeted my car and we laughed. We laughed and we laughed and we laughed. Ha ha ha! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
I'd made a request that she work with me for that day because I had a pinched nerve that was killing me. She understood and was convincingly understanding. She simply told me to go ahead and park up there and to not take advantage of it later. I agreed and even told her it would probably only be that day and that I heal quickly. Great! We were on the same page. Big smiles, waves, and well wishes were exchanged. I parked up by the coffee shop and still had difficulty walking with all my shit. Oh well, I was having a great day and I felt like I Dale Carnegied the shit out of that situation that it gave me bragging rights. That was until I was done editing my work and headed out to my car...to find another GOD DAMN TICKET!!!
Bitch.
Of course, I laughed as I blurted out every ugly name for the Ticket Nazi that I could pull out of my ass. While it's only $30, it's freaking $30! I'm considering taking time out of my life to complain. Coffee-Shop-Steve suggested that I do since he's lived here forever and has never heard of the "rule" that was plastered all over her note to me, and because she actually gave me permission to park up there. If she had to uphold the law in this very illegal situation I was walking a very fine line with, all she had to do was tell me no. But she didn't. She is an asshole.
Yeah. Take that, Lady that will never see this or give two shits for that matter.
There is a law here, unlike in Everett or Seattle, that you can only be parked in one spot for 3 hours - however, then you must LEAVE. Go! Get the hell out of town! I was under the impression that I could leave my parking spot at the 3 hour mark and then scoot on over to a new opening. There usually is an opening...and I take it. Well, I got my first ticket about a two to three months ago. Can't remember. Pissed? Yes. But I broke the rule by letting it go over by 20 minutes. Seriously. Then last month or so, got another. WTF? Then I got a scathing note on my car in angry doctor's handwriting telling me that I had been breaking some RCW-blah-blah-bullshit rule that apparently states that we are to not park within a 2 block radius of the businesses after 3 hours. Her chicken scratch continued by telling me to "PARK IN THE PARKING LOT!!!"
Oh, really? Three exclamation points? Got it. She's freaking serious about this rule that NO ONE knows exists unless they work at the local businesses. But okay. Got the message.
Well, my back that was feeling so not awesome this week made me want to puke when I thought of walking up from the parking lot carrying my silly heavy briefcase and silly heavy purse to the coffee shop. Luckily, I came across the Meter Maid before I parked in the parking lot as she was getting ready to leave. I rolled down my window and made very friendly small talk, even teasing her that she had clearly targeted my car and we laughed. We laughed and we laughed and we laughed. Ha ha ha! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
I'd made a request that she work with me for that day because I had a pinched nerve that was killing me. She understood and was convincingly understanding. She simply told me to go ahead and park up there and to not take advantage of it later. I agreed and even told her it would probably only be that day and that I heal quickly. Great! We were on the same page. Big smiles, waves, and well wishes were exchanged. I parked up by the coffee shop and still had difficulty walking with all my shit. Oh well, I was having a great day and I felt like I Dale Carnegied the shit out of that situation that it gave me bragging rights. That was until I was done editing my work and headed out to my car...to find another GOD DAMN TICKET!!!
Bitch.
Of course, I laughed as I blurted out every ugly name for the Ticket Nazi that I could pull out of my ass. While it's only $30, it's freaking $30! I'm considering taking time out of my life to complain. Coffee-Shop-Steve suggested that I do since he's lived here forever and has never heard of the "rule" that was plastered all over her note to me, and because she actually gave me permission to park up there. If she had to uphold the law in this very illegal situation I was walking a very fine line with, all she had to do was tell me no. But she didn't. She is an asshole.
Yeah. Take that, Lady that will never see this or give two shits for that matter.
Sunday, October 07, 2012
Bastard Sciatic
My lower left back has been hurting for a little bit lately, but now it's killing me. I've been wondering if I need to see a chiropractor and get my hips adjusted, but if this is sciatic, I'm just going to have to tough it out. But now with the smoke outside and any potential allergies I might have...I sneeze. And when I know the sneeze is coming and the tickle is building up, fear begins to grip at me knowing the torture that is about to present itself. WhaaaaaaCHOOOOOO!!!
"SONUVABITCH!! AGHHHHH!"
And then, of course, I laugh. It makes me laugh because it is so painful, my reaction to it is craziness and it makes me feel old. Stupid back. However, I've had this problem since I was in high school. I've taken Advil and nothing. I'm going to try heat on my back, too. Mike suggested Tylenol even though in my entire life, it has NEVER worked for me. But what have I got to lose...except for pain?
Well, no Tylenol in the house except for a bottle of Pediacare for Farrah. Someone my size takes 4tsp. I never did well as a child taking liquid medicine. And the curse continues. I tossed it back to find it just slowly oozed in, so there was no escape to quickly chase it with something that would kill the sick taste. Blech! And the worst part? It had SO much sugar in it, it had a Pop Rocks crunch to it. Farrah actually asked me prior to me taking it how many calories it had in it. What the hell?!! I NEVER talk about calories because I don't give a rat's ass. However, after taking that god-awful medicine I let her know I just had about 400 calories. Gross. Me. Out.
I hope this works because I have to vacuum and dust and I know there will be a sneeze or two in my future. Shit. Just sneezed and it sucked.
"SONUVABITCH!! AGHHHHH!"
And then, of course, I laugh. It makes me laugh because it is so painful, my reaction to it is craziness and it makes me feel old. Stupid back. However, I've had this problem since I was in high school. I've taken Advil and nothing. I'm going to try heat on my back, too. Mike suggested Tylenol even though in my entire life, it has NEVER worked for me. But what have I got to lose...except for pain?
Well, no Tylenol in the house except for a bottle of Pediacare for Farrah. Someone my size takes 4tsp. I never did well as a child taking liquid medicine. And the curse continues. I tossed it back to find it just slowly oozed in, so there was no escape to quickly chase it with something that would kill the sick taste. Blech! And the worst part? It had SO much sugar in it, it had a Pop Rocks crunch to it. Farrah actually asked me prior to me taking it how many calories it had in it. What the hell?!! I NEVER talk about calories because I don't give a rat's ass. However, after taking that god-awful medicine I let her know I just had about 400 calories. Gross. Me. Out.
I hope this works because I have to vacuum and dust and I know there will be a sneeze or two in my future. Shit. Just sneezed and it sucked.
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