It's December 23rd, so it's Festivus. Since we can't do Feats of Strength, we're going to do Airing of Grievances. Focus: Air out, boys and girls. It can be a fellow board member, family, society, whatever. Keep it funny, and mostly respectful. For instance the following grievance would be out of line: "I hate it when Dixie posts an NSFW picture of a girl that isn't very good looking with a bush that makes Dr. J's fro look tiny." Absolutely not allowed. Go.
My fucking mother-in-law. My husband and I are hosting Christmas dinner this year, and since I'm 7 weeks pregnant, I'm very tired and somewhat cranky. Therefore, I told him I will be relying on him more than I usually do this time of year. So what does he do? Tells my MIL that I'll be needing her help with dinner (which I most certainly do not). Now, my MIL is a very nice person, and I could have it a lot worse, but she is just so fucking stupid and lazy. My husband wants HER mashed potatoes with dinner, so he asked her to make them. Well, since she hates peeling potatoes (who doesn't??), she's making him do it. Then she's coming over before dinner to make them...AT MY HOUSE. We actually had to buy the potatoes for her. She's going to be using my stove and my pot. What the hell is the point of you saying you'd make them, if you're using my house anyway??? Stay home because you're just going to be in my way. She's very timid and insecure so she'll be asking me question after question, while I'm trying to make dinner for 22 people. The worst part of all this? I can't drink wine to sooth my anger.
I am? Dammit. Glad somebody let me know. Fucking edit: I COULD SO BE PREGNANT. Figured I'd put that in there before any of you smartasses got smartassy.
Dear fat Mexican women in Costco who put all of their significant weight on the handle of the cart while walking slower than the prisoners on the Bataan death march, I know this newly minted Pope still tells you not to use birth control but how about you quick fucking like rabbits and shitting kids out who run in circles behind you while screaming in Spanglish. I know it is a big store with lots of free food, but that does not mean you and your herd can block the aisle, I can tell from the muffin top that is poking out of your "skinny" jeans that you are not starving. Don't pretend you are going to buy any of the sample items either, when you say, "That's pretty good ese', after I find the 20 pounds of lard I am here to get I will probably come back and pick up some of these toasted English muffins with jam, when will your next batch be done? My ninos is hambriento. yo." Also pick a fucking side to walk on, right or left I don't care just stop walking down the middle and stopping every 5 feet to say Oh, mijo look. I know it is not a threat to you that I will run over and kill your children since you can make more in less time than a possum (shortest mammalian gestational period just so you get the reference) neither is the fear of deportation as we now issue you Arizona drivers licenses. You had to learn a few rules to get your drivers license so learn a few shopping rules before you fuck up my Costco shopping experience. Feliz Airing of Grievances.
Have you seen the boobie/booty thread? Yeah, while you may view nakedness as the time to get all scatty with it (in my head 'scatty with it' goes to 'gettin jiggy with it' - don't ask), if any of those fine young ladies were walking around my place looking like that, they'd be pregnant in about 10 seconds. My coworker: Nice guy, love him, but that stupid motherfucker decided to tell a problem client when asked about walks on Christmas day that our boss was 'around.' And she is, with 30 walks. So of course now the guy schedules three walks for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and day after Christmas, coworker then decides to tell boss that 'hey this guy is looking for walks' and now boss is like 'wait, what? They have to be booked 60 days in advance' Coworker tries to figure something out. Client calls boss. Coworker is away Christmas Eve until Saturday. My boss agrees to walks (because she's a pushover) but can't get to them all. Who gets stuck? I do. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and the day after Christmas. Thanks, stupid fucking out of town motherfucking coworker. I got fucked for Christmas, and not the way I like to get fucked.
My fucking dad is being very cunty this past week. First, it was that the dogs annoyed him (the dogs who, you know, are not even his and rather are my own and my brother's) and how he was going to call someone to "come get them"; note these dogs are staying at his place while I try to repeal my renting company's no animal policy as the previous renters had an enormous Cujo who tore the house up with shit and piss to carpets, fang and claw to floors and doors. Then it was he was pissed at a church service's timing (as an atheist I went because it was that or a litany of horseshit and more bitching if I didn't) and still, despite trying to dodge bullshit the entire way, it still did not fucking satisfy. Then today he got enraged because two cars were parked in a way he didn't like at my mother's house where we all had partied and passed out and lost his fucking mind, yelling and screaming and sending shitty text messages and calls to everyone the rest of the day. Seriously old man, come off the high horse, screw your head on right and quit acting like a 16 year old spoiled girl when you're a 63 year old man.
Dear Portland, Why are you full of people from San Francisco now? Why have you forced me to put on real people pants when I go outside? Time was, I could walk into Powell's and have six rats living in my hair, pants older than I was and drool running out the side of my mouth and I'd STILL be the most normal person there. Now, I walk in at 9am (that's opening time, mind you) wearing my pajamas because I had to run my boyfriend down to work and thought I'd stop and get a book before going home, and everyone is perfectly groomed wearing their synchronized skinny jeans and perfectly polished riding boots. Excuse ME for shuffling around in the Latin Classics corner like a homeless person looking for spare crumbs of muffins people might have dropped down here. I just wanted to read Meditations on this fine winter's day, like a classy person, and now you're acting like I'm a disgusting pile of useless humanity (regardless of how true that is, fuck you). And excuse ME for not bothering to perfectly coif my hair before lurching like a bag lady into your annals, hoping against hope that in a motherfucking bookstore it would be completely fine to not be dressed as if I were at a breakfast-time fashion show. Oh, and on that note, can we talk about your fucking comics section? It was insulting enough that you put it right in the fucking CAFE. You know, the place where people go. Lots of people. Don't you know your demographics? People who buy comics don't want other people around. They don't want people bumping into them because they're trying to navigate a scone and their six copies of Nietzche. And they certainly don't want people staring at them while they're trying to buy the worst comics on the shelf. THAT'S RIGHT, JUDGEY MCESPRESSODOUCHE, I'M BUYING THIS NEW52 CATWOMAN COMIC AND I DON'T CARE HOW NAKED BATMAN IS (yes I do, I hope it's a lot). But as if being in the cafe was not enough, you've now put FLOOR TO FUCKING CEILING WINDOWS on the outside. Now, as I'm trying desperately to enjoy an activity that I cherish because of the fact that it includes one person, I'm on fucking display to the outside, the inside, and these annoying employees who are convinced I am homeless because no one wanders around with this shitty of a look on their face unless they know they're gonna shank someone for their next meal. NO I DO NOT NEED ASSISTANCE I KNOW WHERE I AM I AM IN HELL. Stupid Powell's remodel. Stupid well-dressed out-of-towners making it harder for me to be a shlub. Sincerely, Roxanne
To the Accounting Department at my job: How can you screw up so many invoices so often? Is it really that difficult to send them the correct bill and not send it again multiple times? Your incompetency makes part of my job and my co-workers' jobs suck. Get your shit together. Please. For all of our sakes. To My Girlfriend's Landlord/Roommate: You define the term asshole. It's a great townhome deal except for you and she can't wait to move out because of your hypocritical self-righteous inconsiderate bullshit. Know what? We save the loud fucking for when we're home alone so it'd be nice if you and your boyfriend could do the same and especially in the middle of the night. You come home from month-long stretches away unannounced, take photos of crumbs in front of the oven on the floor and email my girlfriend bitching about some crumbs on the floor (*gasp* the horror!) without thinking about just talking to her, and forget all the while about the Jello-shots that were fused to the carpet and puke on the bathroom wall after your parties. Just playing your godawful techno music at a wall-shaking volume is one thing too, but you just have to do it at 2:00 am while my girlfriend is in the middle of her busy tax season too. If you want some of that damage deposit for scratches my dog supposedly put in the floor, good luck proving it after letting your friends have even bigger dogs over afterwards and letting them fuck it all up. Can't you just acknowledge her presence if you're in the same room together too? Do you have to pretend we don't exist? Can you just talk to her rather than send shitty emails and never respond back? Needless to say you cause her to be really stressed sometimes, which in turn falls on me, so in short... fuck you Ben. I'd just call you a cunt but you lack the depth and warmth.