I'm a little irritated right now. I ran to the grocery store
and a trip that should have taken a total of 8
minutes ended up taking 30. All I wanted was
some ice cream and Cheetos!

Only one register was open, there was a line...
and that's fine, it IS midnight. Unfortunately, the guy
in front of the guy in front of me... I immediately
knew he was trouble. He was perfectly capable of
walking, yet he was crammed into one of those
Rascal-esqe shopping carts. The motorized one that
you sit in with the basket in front. He was also
yammering away on his cell phone, telling
somebody that "the rain made mah bones
tired, I ain't lazy!!!" I call bullshit on that
one buddy.

He moves up in line... and instead of putting
his 5 items on the belt... he hands them, one
by one, to Tony, my favorite checker. He
then proceeds to stop Tony from scanning
the item by asking him how much each item
costs. Then he changes his mind about the ice
cream (which he didn't need to begin with).
He's on his cell phone THE ENTIRE TIME.
That's one thing that really pisses me off.
Get off the damn phone you asshole, and
treat Tony like a person.

THEN... he whips out his food stamp
debit card thing. This guy is decked out
in Ecko gear, which I KNOW is expensive, and
some pretty badass Nike kicks. Which
probably set him back about $150 bucks. Or
more, I don't know, I sure can't afford
them.

FOOD STAMPS?!?! For ice cream and
cocoa puffs?

And, surpriiiiise!, there was nothing left
on the card. I thought the poor guy
in front of me with ONE ITEM was going to
lose it. I know the 8 to 10 people behind
me were ready to strangle the guy.

What the hell is wrong with people?

Eh? I'd like to know. Somebody tell me.
Please.

Comment! (6) | Recommend! | Categories: lazy [t], stupid [t], ice cream [t], cheetos [t], Tony [t]

On Friday I went to my friend Whitney's house and "danced" and drank PBR and had a pretty good time. I could bore you with BOYFRIEND PROBLEMS... but who wants to read about that? Nobody. That's right. So here are some pictures.



Last night I went to a birthday party. The theme was gold so I golded my self out like no other. Well, except, you know, every other snobby ass bitch at the party. I didn't stay long, it was miserable. And it wasn't the birthday girls fault. She just had some really, REALLY snobby friends. Guys and girls alike. So, I left and went to a gay party. I'm much more comfortable with drag queens. That's just the way it goes, sorry sorostitutes. And they all loved my dress, which is actually my little sisters old prom dress. It was a size too big but I thought it looked great. And so did my awesome gold makeup.

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So my car got backed into by not a redneck, but a hippie. And it turns out... I had pre-cal with his girlfriend. I wasn't really one to complain about living in a small town before but now I'm not so sure.

The entire purpose of insurance is so I DON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOU. I don't want to talk to you, get to know you, or meet you in person.

And now I have and I'm pretty irritated. And it only makes it worse that I actually knew you before and didn't mind you as a person. Hopefully you'll stay away from me now. It should be apparent that I don't really like you. Or your uninsured boyfriend who apparently can't take the time to look where he's going when he's backing out of a driveway too quickly.

Moving on.

I'd like to share with you all a nifty little website called
coComment a fun place where you can track the comments that you leave! If you're like me and get irritated when you stumble across a nasty comment you made a while back that the coward
responded to on his or her blog instead of yours and you didn't even get a chance to defend yourself and now it's too late because that was like... a week ago(!)
then coComment is the place for you.

Comment! (4) | Recommend!

And on a sad note... Some dirty, disgusting, drunken, redneck, piece of shit
asshole backed into my car while I was out of town this weekend. Visiting my
family and celebrating my lovely mother's 30th birthday. Haha, just kidding, she's not lame like that, she's proud of her age. 52 and still trendier than me, that's my mom.

I miss her already.

Also, check out my new renter, The Composed Gentleman, he has super readable and interesting content. Oh, and for some reason I can't leave comments on blogger so sorry to Izzie and my renter for not leaving you guys comments. I tried, I really did!

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I heard scratching sounds in the walls last night. If it's fucking mice I'm seriously going to lost it. And... I'm thinking it's mice for sure. Because we're clearing out all the bushes and kudzu in the backyard. Oh man, I really, really hate mice.

I'm not scared of them, I just... I had a bad experience my first year of college. I lived in a brand fucking new apartment with 2 awful people and, it seemed, hundreds of disgusting rodents. The property managers solution?

Sticky traps.

Non-toxic, popcorn scented sticky traps. Have you ever stepped on a sticky trap? It sucks. They're really sticky (hence the name) and they'll pull your skin off. Not only did I have to deal with LIVE MICE on the sticky traps, the property manager (cunt) wouldn't pick them up. So... the trash compactor was the only place for them.

A mouse scampered across me when I was sleeping once.

I'm worried it could be rats though. I found a rat skeleton in our attic not too long ago. While mice piss me off, rats gross me the fuck out. Goddammit, I hope we don't have a rodent problem.

Dr. Doom needs to start pulling her weight around here. All she does is eat and sleep. And, I realize that's what all cats do but... I think she could stand to kill
a few rodents during her spare time. I mean, her name IS Dr. Doom, she has a reputation to uphold.

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I got jewelery a dress and some books illustrated by Edward Gorey for the anniversary. Edward did well. A coral necklace, bracelet and ring. And his birdcage should be coming in... well probably not for another week and a half. Shit.

So my sisters friend (I call her the disgusting blob) just SHOWED UP from out of town yesterday. I DO NOT LIKE HER. She's gross. I have a fucking hangover, I'm starving because I heaved all the delicious food I ate for the anniversary after I drank too much PBR and got gutrot... And I wake up to her cackling in the living room.

Spare me.

She's mean and cynical, but not in the good way that I am. She's gross, she's dull, and I can hear HER puking because she's a damn alcoholic. It's 6:30 in the evening and she's just now waking up.

I want to punch her in the face.

Moving on... I passed my Newspaper Fundamentals final. Now I just have to go back on the 27th to retake AP Style and pass that. I'm glad to be on a little 2 week vacation. I don't know what I'm going to do... I'm so broke it's pathetic.

Here's a couple of pictures. Anyway, you can see my coral shit and my new dress. And some BB gun I found... I can't believe nobody took it from me. Friday night was a good night.



Oh yeah, I have a new renter. It's The Bloggin' Bizatch. Check her out and your karma will rule.

And here are the books I got. Jealous!

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