Dammit, I just want to fucking bitch:
I have my period
My head hurts like a bastard
There’s no good food in the house-I would KILL for some Dr. Pepper and BBQ Fritos.
My sister is going on the computer in a minute and I have to go downstairs.
I’M BORED!!!
My mom is cranky
My sister is back to being a mega-bitch-but I just ignore her now-I don’t care anymore
MY SPHINCTER ITCHES!!!
I hate living here.
I can’t drop my Stupid Fucking English class because it’s a prerequisite for every goddamn thing else.
The campus e-mail system was built by a moron. I know this because I know the moron, who was a freshman when she built it!!
I came out to my mom, and she told me it was just a phase. EEEEYYYYAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!
I am living in the smallest possible room.
My roommate has like six boyfriends who are always coming around looking for her.
My roommate is never here, yet acts like she controls the room.
My roommate lost her key and will not pay the fucking twenty dollars to replace it. And this is at a time when security has issued a sexual assault alert.
Did I mention I fucking hate living here?
-I have PMS. I have killer cramps and I’m bloated. (Is that not the ugliest word in the English language? Yuck.) My emotions are all over the place. I watched “Can’t Hardly Wait” on USA in a semi-comatose state and still managed to cry at the end.
-I went eleven days without smoking a single cigarette and then I bought a pack yesterday. I still don’t like it, but nicotine makes me feel so damn good.
-I have two midterm exams tomorrow in British Lit: Restoration and Romantic and Physical Geography. I’ll probably get a B on the Brit Lit since I’ve done all the readings and studied, but PG is a lost fucking cause. I hate the subject, I don’t understand any of it, and the professor teaches like we’re all fucking majoring in it. He assumes we can do all the math involved with no problem and that we understand all these concepts that I last heard in 9th grade biology. I’m going to bomb the test because frankly no amount of studying will help me understand this shit and I don’t care. It’s a goddamn 120 level class! It should NOT be this hard! It’s my last prereq and I don’t even care if I fail the class or not.
-I hate my job. All the awesome people that made me want to stay there have left, and now I completely and totally dread going to work. I used to be in this nice cushy social circle and had such great friends there. The new people I work with sit around, NOT working, talking about getting drunk, getting high, selling drugs, and new cars. For the love of pete, they’re in college and they act like highschoolers.
-My arch-nemesis at work (we’ll call her BITCH) applied for the newly opened position that I really, really want. She’s been here four months, and she has an AA in Design, so she’s going to get the job. It doesn’t matter that I have seniority, I’ve gotten excellent reviews and raises every three months, and that I’ve got 78 credits toward an English and Anthropology degree. Nope, she gets the better-paying job and her own desk, while I will continue to be a slave to capitalism in the fiery pit of Marketplace, pulling pallets, pulling muscles, and getting dirty and sweaty.
-I never have money and I have bills that I can barely pay. All of my paychecks go to bills and insurance and gas, and then I’m broke. I hate being poor. I haven’t been able to buy new clothes since June. If I do have a few extra bucks, I shop at Goodwill or the Value Village. I’m all for old clothes - some of them are pretty cool - but I’d really like a new winter coat and I don’t see that happening, ever. Hell, I’d like a simple red fucking scarf fercryinoutloud and I can’t even afford that.
-I am single, and will be for the rest of my fucking life, which sucks, in case you didn’t pick up on that.
I feel somewhat better now that I’ve released that anger.
I have a love/hate relationship with one of my friends. I try talking to her about my problems, but I should stop doing that. In fact, I have. She’s too damn condescending. “You know what your problem is bean? You’re not perfect like me. You’re so negative and bitter. You know how not to be like that? To be more like me! I’m so perfect and funny and EVERYBODY likes me. Blah blah blah.” …OK, she never really said that stuff, but she might as well!
I hate driving. Well, no. I would like driving a lot more if there weren’t other drivers to get in my way.
I had to get a smaller purse because the purse I used and loved is too big for my weak-ass neck to handle (I wear a purse by swinging the strap over my head so it rests on my neck and hangs to my right side–I can’t wear it on my shoulder, as it falls off). The purse I use is OK, but it’s too small.
Tuesdays, Thursdays, and B Fridays at my college are such a drag. So boring. So incredibly boring!!
I wish I could afford the new Godfather Saga on DVD, but will have to wait until Christmas. Dammit!
Come bitch with me!
The best is yet to be
The place to rant (for which the Pit was made)
Our gripes are all at hand
(Unless we all get banned :eek:! )
Speak but your soul, get JarbabyJ and be not afraid!
By Robert Fenris Browning
{{{Nacho4Sara}}}
Buck up camper! Things can only get better. Besides I like ya so things can’t be all bad, or can they 
I have nothing to bitch about. It’s not that I don’t have bad things in my life, it’s just that my memory is so bad that I forget them too quickly to care. I’m a lot like leonard in memento. 
I probably have pneumonia (have to go back for chest XRays on wednesday.)
I quit smoking five days ago and I am miserable.
I am seven (yes, count 'em) different prescriptions right now that are making me feel like I am perpetually coming off of a coke bender.
I’m hungry but eating makes me nauseous.
I can’t walk 50 feet without going into couging fits.
like to help out, folks, but LIFE IS GRAND! nope, can’t think of anything to really bitch about right now…
“…and the most amazing thing to me is, i get paid for doin’ THIS!!”-- STEVE MARTIN
My cat died after lunch today.
My infected tooth root went ballistic after dinner today.
But like gatopescado said, life is grand. It really is, despite the occasional difficulties.
Over the space of four days, I went from wearing my normal clothes (a lovely size six, thank you very much) to my MATERNITY CLOTHES! Not that I mind that much, but could’nt this have been a *gradual * process?
Also, I am eating everything in sight, which I don’t mind but looks really bad in public.
Damn, for once I really can’t work up a good bitch… how odd.
The remote on my new boombox doesn’t work, so I called the company (is it any old company or is it MEMOREX?), which it ends up is going through some merger and so is out-sourcing its complaints to some third party. They only know what their computers tell them, which apparently regarding MEMOREX products is jack-shit. So I tell the brainless telephone operator that I need a new remote for the Model MP-3124 player because mine doesn’t work and she says “my computer doesn’t say that unit has a remote.” Well, replies JODI reasonably, it does, 'cause I’m using it as a paperweight on my desk because it doesn’t remotely work. “I can’t help you. I don’t know what part to order because it isn’t listed as having a remote.” What part to order? How about, say, the remote??? But no. Since the computer is unaware of the existence of the remote, it cannot reorder one. Therefore, I am screwed. Her suggestion? Take the entire unit back to where I bought it and get a new one – one that hopefully will include a working remote. This in spite of the fact that the actual unit works fine, and I neither want nor need to replace it. Don’t let anyone kid you – computers do rule the world, and it’s because people like that refuse to think for themselves.
My dog is mad that we’ve moved and she’s home alone all day again, so she’s started taking the garbage out of the bathroom wastepaper basket and eating it and/or strewing it all over the living room. Nothing like coming home to a snowy room full of used and partially digested Kleenex.
Conversation from the bus this morning (I’m wearing navy blue semi-flowy rayon trousers with thin white stripes): Obviously mentally handicapped but nice but smelly guy across the aisle: “Hey! I like your pants!” “Thanks.” “They look like clown pants!” “Um, thanks.”
If people can schedule meetings that they know or ought to know will include the lunch hour, they ought to provide some !$(#!@% lunch. If it’s 12:45 and we’ve been meeting since 10, catch a clue that people are hungry and need a break. Not everyone only eats when the moon is full, you anorexic power-hungry freak. The least you could do is send a couple of your flying monkeys out for sandwiches.
Ah, I feel better.
I can’t decide between the Bentley and the Rolls. I guess I’ll just have to get both. I ran out of Beluga and I’m on my last case of Moet with a party for the governor coming up. Annie Leibovitz won’t stop begging to photograph me for Vanity Fair, but I told her I’d only do it on the yacht, and since it’s in for a refit, she’ll have to wait. I’ve finally had to get a restraining order against Julia Roberts. She just won’t take no for an answer. My swimsuit model wife wants me to join her for a vacation in Fiji after her photo shoot, but I just can’t get away right now. They’re dedicating my wing at the Louvre tomorrow, and the President would be most upset if I didn’t show.
MY SPHINCTER STILL ITCHES!!!
Guin! I knew we had to have something in common. 
DOOOOOD!!! Got any to spare?
{{{Muffin}}} Having had an abcessed tooth AND having lost the Best Cat that Ever Lived last year, I know what you are going through.
My roommate thinks I need no sleep. She kept me up late last night because she had to have her stupidfuckinglamp on. Her lamp could be used as a Broadway spotlight. I almost jumped up in bed to start belting “Another op’ning, another show…” but instead I just covered my head with the pillow.
If she had started two hours earlier instead of playing Freecell…
Plus, she gets up every morning at least an hour before I do. That doesn’t bother me. What bothers me is that she and my suitemates crowd into the bathroom and proceed to have conversations at the top of their lungs. After Friday, which was the end of the seventh week of living like this, I did my zombie stagger into the bathroom, looked at the three of them, and asked them eversonicely to PLEASE stop talking so loudly. Then I staggered back to bed.
Did they listen? Hell no.
She woke me up from my nap today because her stupid ex-boyfriend was yelling at her over her beeper when she walked in the room. Imagine. A lovely nap, a beautiful dream, and then all of a sudden, “WHAT THE HELL did you DO THAT FOR, you STUPID FUCKING BITCH!”
It’s a wonder I didn’t fall out of bed.
Earplugs. I need earplugs. I can’t afford them.
Also, one particular spot on my head is hurting, and I don’t know why. I must’ve hit it on something and not realized it…but how the hell does that happen?
Also, I think I had an orthodontist appointment Thursday that I missed because I thought it was supposed to be THIS Thursday and the office didn’t call to confirm.
Other than that, though, life’s pretty spiffy. I like my classes, the semester’s half over…even though I have a good bit of work to do this week, right now I feel okay.
How I feel your pain, Nocturne. My second semester at Frostburg (I hate even typing those words) my roommate was pretty cool - she spent most of her time with her boyfriend, in his room. But every Saturday morning she had dance class at like 6am, so at 4:30 am she would come into our room, shine this fucking spotlight on me that was so bright she could have dissected me and easily found my spleen. Then she would turn on the tv, open the window (crawling across MY bed to do so!), yank up the heat (on her side of the room), and take an hour or so singing in the shower (seven feet and a thin door from my bed).
Consequently, I’d be freezing my ass off, recieving intermittent blasts of heat from her side of the room, and blinded every time I attempted to open my eyes. In the grand tradition of college students everywhere, I was usually hungover, which made me very unhappy.
Sometimes I dragged my aching carcass into our private hallway (it was a pretty posh upperclass dorm room) and sleep there. Yuck.
Thanks for the hug, pezzy. Did I tell you I think you’re cute? 
Anyway, it’s the PMS that kills me. I am usually the happiest person ever, but once a month I turn into a killer bitch from hell and I cry irrationally. I cried on my drive to CVS this afternoon because “I Need You” by Leann Rimes came on. I HATE that song! I made my mom hug me for five minutes, and that didn’t even help.
Also, I’m in this …situation with this guy from school. I’ve liked him forever and ever, since last January when I met him. I saw him and thought, I have GOT to get to know this guy…so I chatted him up and we’ve been friends with a sexual undertone ever since. We’ve sort of talked about it, but he had a girlfriend for a long time, and now he’s single but still not over her. Yuck. So basically, all I will ever get is some unsatifiying flirtation. I hate to sound like a man, but I would really like to get laid sometime soon.
sigh My problems don’t amount to a hill of beans in this world, but it feels good to rant a little.
I’ve still got PMS.
My sister went berko at a family dinner and ranted and raved about how my parents play favourites and she ain’t the favourite and how my kids are badly behaved (here’s a clue fuckwit sister, they’re both diagnosed as autistic and for autie kids they’re pretty awesomely behaved) and how basically we are the family from hell and we just shit on her all the time. It was a nightmare and me and my mum are still in shock. I really don’t get why a supposedly adult would go loony like this in front of the kids (my kid had nightmares so I can’t imagine what her kids went through) and if she thinks I am such a shit parent why the fuck does her daughter have anorexia? ::disclaimer:: I don’t necessarily believe there is any connection whatsoever between crap parenting and anorexia but in this case, I think she needs to focus a bit more on her daughter.
My older kid changed schools today and it is such a fucking awesome school and if I sat down and designed a school for him it would look like this. I am totally shitting myself he will fuck it up and then I’ll be driven back to homeschooling and then I think my life would be over.
I’m currently stuffing up my course by simply not attending classes because I am trying to sort out older kid’s school stuff and it is so fucking difficult trying to juggle study and parenting and sometimes I don’t even know why I try.
And to top it all off it looks Mr Primaflora might be going on tours with his poetry show which will earn money but it will truly deeply suck because he will be AWAY and I will be HERE with my loony deeply beloved children who rock my world but are hard fucking work.
And I have to do our tax returns :(.
And it is a drought here and it stinks of bushfire smoke which gives me hayfever and it is gonna be the summer from hell…
waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh
Damnit, the battery in my Rolex just died.