This is a dumb day. Don’t you agree, it’s dumb? Like, we have to go to work today, and I suppose I could have taken the day off, as I have like 344449493 more days off I could take, but I forgot.
You know how I am. Life just comes at me. Oh, wow, it’s Christmas! I should get gifts! Oh, man, July 4 is a Tuesday this year! I shoulda taken off the 3rd. Oh, crap, lookie at all that tsunami coming this way. Did they warn us of thi–[swoosh!] oh.
Also, I have to go to the dentist today, as m’tooth has been killing me, and I don’t even quite know which tooth it is. Both the top and the bottom hurt, and I know there are nerves that can do that do you, and anyway, if you have dental horror stories, kindly shut the fuck right up thank you. I figure at least I can recover tomorrow if the shit tooth hits the fan.
Also, I been tryin’a show you this picture for days, and first my computer wouldn’t work, and then I had the kitten drama, and so finally here it is. Cat of the wild. Or Peg’s weeds. Whichever.
Peg still isn’t home, and I feel like her lawn guy might be taking advantage. Oh sure, he’s cutting her grass, but he isn’t caring for her lawn as he should. He used to be my lawn guy, and then I met that really talented lawn guy and threw over tPeg’s guy, and I can tell you I FEEL his anger when he’s next door near my yard. I really do. I feel bad, but this new guy, like, edges and so on. He gets rid of weeds. My back yard doesn’t make me depressed anymore.
After the weekend kitten fiasco, I felt a bit blue, a bit blue around the goat, and Ned called me and said, “You wanna go get a drink somewhere?” so I went even though I keep telling myself I gotta stop hanging around with Ned.
I’m dieting again, Weight Watchers, not that I’m calling you all Weight Watchers, and I had done that fucking ass Tracy Anderson before Ned came to get me. I haven’t even seen Ned in awhile, as I am trying to not hang around with him, but I am sorry to report he looked good and he told me he’s back to working out more. “You hair looks good,” he said, and I note he didn’t say I looked good figure-wise, and that is likely because I don’t, cause heifer.
That guy behind us chose a modest shirt.
Anyway here’s my black hair. Also, I need Juviderm so bad. So bad, I do. And I’m tryin’a be thrifty, so I won’t GET Juviderm, so we all have to look at my marionette lines.
It was the kind of bar where there were dogs, which is always a plus to me. As usual, I got the, “He’s a RESCUE” line, which as you know drives me out of my skull. Do we need to be so goddamn dramatic? You adopted him from a shelter or an organization. He’s not a rescue, FFS. You did not pull him outta that tsunami. Hey, did you know a tsunami was coming?
After my drink with Ned I went to the grocery store and got the diet foods, then got behind a woman with four children who was buying, you know, cereal, milk, juice, the stuff you buy when you’ve got 14 kids. I stood behind her with my avocado and my 96 bottles of water and waited till everything was rung up and bagged and THEN, only THEN, did she say, “Here are my food stamps. You have to deduct the milk and the juice only.”
You couldn’t have brought this up BEFORE everything was rung up? And look. I felt for her situation, I really did. Four kids and no money? That has to suck. I don’t begrudge her the food stamps in the slightest. But when you saw your stuff being rung up wrong, how about bringing it up, oh, RIGHT THEN?
So the woman ringing everything had to take all the groceries out and do some sort of subtraction thing, and of course it was right then I got the hot flash. I was trying to have empathy for the woman in front of me while being annoyed that she let the tsunami come without paying attention, and, you know, boom. I’m hot as fuck, I’m blousing my shirt, I’m feeling faint.
Think kind thoughts, THINK KIND THOUGHTS, I kept telling myself. I tried not to seethe.
I seethed anyway.
It took me about half an hour to get through that line, and there were no other good lines, I promise you that. So Old Heat Miser, here, stayed in line behind Tsunami Preparedness.
Since I’m on a quest, an eternal quest, for thin, I was looking things up online yesterday, and I discovered that Tracy Anderson sells protein powder. For seventy dollars. For 14 servings.
What the actual FUCK, Tracy Anderson? Seriously. You expect people to pay ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY DOLLARS A MONTH on protein powder? Where? In what world? How many of those has she sold, do you think? Like, four? All to Gwyneth Paltrow?
Seventy dollars for 14 servings. As my grandmother would have said, it makes my asshole pucker up and twitch. She learned that phrase in finishing school, clearly.
I wonder if dieting is making me cranky?