Monday, April 21, 2014

a morning of rage

This morning was a domino effect of frustration.  Like 10,000-spoons-when-all-you-need-is-a-knife, kick-Dave-Coulier-in-the-face, Alanissy kind of morning.  

Running late for work, I walk out the door for my 15 minute walk to the metro wearing a dress that kept riding up my legs (into Crotchtown) and making me terribly uncomfortable since it was already a short dress.  I was going to work, after all, not to a place where women wear really short skirts and dresses.  What would you call a place like that?  

Walking to work in this dress put me into a slow-building rage.  Rage Level: Subdued Jack Nicholson

I'm so annoyed with my outfit that after I get off the metro, I decide to go to the nearby H&M before I go into work to buy pants or a skirt or something to put over my dress.  They're not open yet, even though they are supposed to be.  So I run over to Whole Foods to buy snacks, spend a stupid amount of money for "natural" reduced fat, low sodium popcorn and unsweetened organic applesauce.  I almost get run over by a 40-something Type A lady with a cart full of dairy products.  Anger rising.  

Rage Level: Lars Ulrich (When he's playing the drums, not whining about Napster)

I finish at Whole Foods and finally make it into H&M and look at my watch and it is LATE O'CLOCK in the morning and I'm like fuuucckkk I need to get to work but I can't go with my dress up my ass.  I search around and grab whatever clothes I can find and try them on.  Now I'm in the dressing room and starting to sweat in my sweater (I know, I hear it)  and coat.  The 1 pair of pants I picked up that actually fit will have to fucking do.  I pay for the pants, go back into the steaming sauna of a dressing room to put them back on before I leave the store.  

Rage Level:  Alec Baldwin yelling at his daughter in a voicemail or beating up a photographer.

As I'm walking toward the office, my ankle is THROBBING.  The shoes I'm wearing today keep rubbing on the bone of my ankle, starting a small fire of agony, causing me to limp.  I haven't even gotten to the office yet.  

Rage Level:  Bill O'Reilly shouting DO IT LIVE

I finally get into work, a basket full of hate sitting at my desk.  Happy Monday, mother fuckers.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014


I really, big time, huge time DO NOT CARE about the new Spiderman series.  Nobody is going to make me care.  Not even Sally Field being in it can make me care.

Andrew Garfield?  Don't Care.
Emma Stone?
All of it?  Not Do Care.

And I think Jamie Foxx is on my side with this one.