My wife is a slut.
I’m 8 months pregnant and am damn sick and tired of random annoying symptoms. Itchy belly. Odd sore place at the bottom of my sternum. Gasping for air out of nowhere. Waking up 3459873450 times a night to pee/readjust sleeping position/gasp for air/be annoyed at husband for no reason. I will never complain about the blessing of getting pregnant and STAYING pregnant as well as having another wonderful little son, but this has sealed the deal that we are DONE making babies.
Oh and my husband is in incredible pain and on crutches until the week before my due date due to ankle surgery last week and so not only am I 35 weeks pregnant I have to do EVERY single little thing in the house as well as care for him as his movement is still restricted. I’m feeling totally and completely cheated out of the last few weeks of my pregnancy which should be MY time to lay around, get some rest, and prepare to birth another small human.
In that regard, there is a potential for a maybe nothing/maybe enormous snowstorm here for Sunday and Monday and so far the only person in my house capable of shoveling anything is my 6-year old, and possibly the bulldog.
Boys, if one of you is waving an imaginary sword around, and the other one takes your imaginary sword from you, then just make yourself another imaginary sword, instead of crying that your big brother took away your imaginary sword! AAAAUUUUGGH!
No, he needs to conjure an imaginary mace and use it to get his sword back!
To my co-workers:
As a (very) small gift for the masses here at AssSuckCorp LLC, the boss set the hot drink vending machine on free for the last week of work before winter shutdown. It still produces vile coffee and flavorless hot cocoa but it’s free now and well worth what you’re paying for it. If you don’t like it, don’t drink it. I don’t see why this is complicated. Either shut up about how bad it is or tell someone who cares.
Honey? That you?
What is it about 15 year old kids and their new computer games. And why I am stupid enough to buy them and feed the conflict???
Sigh.
I feel I can qualitatively claim my username does not suck. Yours isn’t all that great in the first place, though. Glass sticks and stone houses or whatever.
My grievance? Well, I am pretty pissed that my one roommate is so fucking passive aggressively confrontational. I have never seen this combination of traits in a human being before and honestly didn’t know it was possible. Stop testing me and our other roommate passive aggressively then blowing up when we fail your tests because we couldn’t read your mind, and just speak up nicely and rationally when you want us to do something.
Fuck me!
Me, I deplore the fact that Festivus has been trivialized to the point where people think the Airing of Grievening is Festivus, when in fact Festivus is so, so much more. It’s sad to see our best traditions being debased like this.
Bah, humbug.
I can only confine myself to the airing of grievances this year, unfortunately, since I am still precluded, by doctor’s orders, from helping set up the Festivus pole or participating in the feats of strength. 
Dear SoCal weather: thanks for finally stopping the goddamn rain. Now can you please stay sunny for the rest of the long Christmas weekend? I can’t go out in the rain without my (currently missing) raincoat, which leads me to:
Dear Dad: You promised you’d watch my stuff while I was having surgery three weeks ago. So where did you put the bag with the clothes I was wearing? My raincoat was in there, along with my only pair of jeans that fits and my favorite black hoodie. You claim you handed it to Mom, but she says she hasn’t seen it. If this bag got thrown away by mistake, you owe me a new raincoat and a new pair of Levis. :mad: At least you saved my iPod and my phone. Thanks.
My 80 year old SIL (whom D and I are forced to live with because our economic situation demands it right now) gets into these “coughing fits” when she feels like she wants attention. It’s non-stop and she has some heavy duty codeine-laced cough medicine to stop it were it real. When she finally realizes that we’re not going to come running every time that happens she settles down.
The other night, her daughter was supposed to come over to help with tree-trimming and wrapping presents, but she had to postpone.
Yup, you guessed it. Almost non-stop from 6pm to 11pm. Sounded like a chainsaw. When she saw I wasn’t going to come running, she settled down and went to bed. I checked on her later and she was sleeping like a baby.
I was a respiratory therapist for 20 years. I know bronchospasm when I hear it.
That was put-on, it happens a lot, she goes to her doc for the couch meds and he just gives it to her.
Q
Dear sister-in-law: You asked me to bring a vegetarian dish to Christmas Day dinner, since I’m a vegetarian. So is our nephew, and you are, occasionally, or vegan, or soy-free, or macrobiotic, or raw foodist, or gluten-free. I never know exactly what you’re eating and you don’t often bother to let me know when you’ve changed diets.
So this time I decided to make a wild rice pilaf with cashews, because that will fit vegetarian, vegan, soy-free, and gluten-free. You called tonight to ask your brother what I’m bringing, and when my husband tells you “wild rice pilaf,” you say, “That’s… awfully starchy.”
WTF. You brought a sweet potato casserole when I hosted Thanksgiving; you didn’t have a problem with “starchy” a month ago.
To My Coworkers: Thanks for forgetting my birthday . Yeah, signing the two other coworkers birthday cards who’ve been here less than a couple of months and I am one of the Original people that started in this place. It.fucking.hurt. Yeah, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Yeah, my brithday was over a holiday weekend. Yeah, I was off for four days. Yeah, whatthefuckever. It still fucking hurt. ALOT. Didn’t any of you fucking morons notice me missing for awhile while I was crying my fucking eyes out over in a quiet corner of the store like a teenage girl.
To my boss Thanks for the demotion saying I wasn’t doing my job (yet no complaints from anyone.) and giving me a paycut. Yeah, I wasn’t being a raging ASSHOLE to my staff, because I won’t do that. The fact that most of the complaints were from this summer and most of my problems were from no-call/no-shows ALL THE FUCKING TIME really is beyond my capacity to supervise people who are not there. OH, and the people that have been hired since september that show up for three days and then fuckall disappear to never be seen again, but it takes 6 weeks to get someone new in AGAIN. THAT is MY FUCKING FAULT? Maybe if you didn’t hire borderline grouphome people who still live with their parents in their 30’s-50’s and have zero people skill it might help. Or the fact that any of the quality help you do get, you end up putting in other departments, especially the pretty girls. The fact I was carrying the fucking lazy ass MIT while you were on vacation and everyone came to me and my co-supervisor just hides away in her area not doing jackshit. Oh, how are you liking the one supervisor you have now. She’s called in four times since then (its been a month and has gone home early several times because of the most ridiculous reasons (gas issues. I mean, fucking c’mon!) and has had two doctor’s appointments. I’ve called in sick three times (migraines) in one year and one time because of a snow storm. I am officially mentally checking out of my job. And keeping my head low and staying there because we need the money and the insurance is pretty darn good. I’m too fucking old to start over. We’re too broke to send one of us to college and laughably make too much money to qualify for grants. Fucked threeways to the goddamn coffin and it is my own fault. *Anyone asks me shit, I don’t know shit. * Oh, you know how you ask me to "Stay over. " But we don’t get over time and have to burn off the extra hour by leaving early. FUCK YOU ON THAT SCORE TOO.
My depression has hit rockfucking bottom since these two incidents and then has been swirling and then this happened:
To the ASSHOLE at the Nursing Home: Whomever stole my disabled brothers socks ( plural, including the ones on him while he was sleeping.) ** You are scum** Yeah, that makes me stabby. Who the fuck does that? What kind of fucking animal takes a severly disabled man’s socks off him?
To the SIL and BIL I swear to the FSM, if you two neo-tards bring up why Palin should be president in 2012 and why Christians are so persecuted in this country, I am going to call you a twatwaffle while I climb across the dining table and jam my fork in your eye. ok, maybe not. But will be drinking and txting my BFF’s to stay sane.
I am pretty sure I’m going to be destitute the rest of my life. Which blows.
I’m basically a widow, who happens to still be married to someone living.
I got eczema over all the stress I’m under at work.
The DA basically goatse’d me last week with autopsy photos of a 16 year old kid. Usually photos are requested separately on disc from the PD rather than bundled into e-discovery from the DA. I can supply no reason for this other than to upset the recipient.
I’m about to turn 30 and my life is fucked.
This is more of schadenfreude, but Ross, after listening to you talk incessantly over and over and OVER AND OVER about your impending Christmas Disneyland trip, I’m glad to see it torrenting rain for the last 36 days in LA. 
Last time you went OCD on a trip and I wished for a quick death there ended up being a tsunami warning on the coast where you were vacationing. Stop annoying me dammit! You have been warned.
Now on to the Feats of Strength!
This? Is why I only have one kid.
Speaking of whom…
Kid, I pay for a two bedroom apartment. It’d be nice if you’d *sleep *in that second bedroom, instead of on my couch, but failing that, could you at least try to keep your stuff contained in it? Because right now there are clean clothes on the kitchen table, dirty clothes on the floors of the bathroom, the living room, and MY BEDROOM, and random crap strewn about the place.
Mommy loves you, but she’s thisclose to loading all your random crap into one of your many enormous purses (also strewn about the place) and beating you to death with it.
Agreed.
I get a week off, too, and every year I say “Next year, I’m going away for Christmas,” but I never do. I’m stuck here, running around buying gifts and cooking.
At least the weather is nice where I live. Right now it’s considered “cold,” but it is presently 59 degrees F.
Fuck you, winter.
The last two days at work were really stressful and by the time I left the office yesterday, I just needed some time to myself to decompress a little. I wanted to relax at my home, sleep in my bed. My dad calls me to remind me that it’s supposed to snow today so maybe I should head home last night instead of today. I declined because I just needed that time for me.
Well, surprise, dad was right. Now the roads are awful near there and I’m here in my apartment alone on Christmas eve. I’ll drive back tomorrow morning but today would be a great day to spend some time with family. And I’m here alone.
Actually, fuck you, me, too.
Dear “employer”. Hire me as a full-time employee already. Set a salary or even keep things hourly if you must. Just put together a benefits package and start being the one to deal with the tax-withholding headaches. It has been a year of contracting with the possibility of a full-time position. You obviously need me and like the work I do for you, so let’s get on with it.
To my mom: I love you, but I cannot function as your on-call chauffeur/housecleaner. I am a widow, full-time college student and mother of two. I use up more gas driving you to your numerous Dr’s appointments and assorted other stops “on the way” than I do the whole rest of the month (since I use mass transit). I can barely keep my OWN apartment in order much of the time, between the kids and the cat, much less say tackle your hoarding and filth on a regular basis, as I’ve been having to lately to keep you from getting evicted. :smack:
Yesterday, your granddaughter and I spent from 9:30 until 4:30 AT THE HOSPITAL waiting for you to get done with your numerous tests (including a 9:40 Cat scan which took 2 hrs all told, lunch in the LOVELY hospital cafeteria, and a 3 hour MRI) and over an hour to boot driving to and from your place before and after. AND you have ANOTHER appointment on Monday. :smack:
Look, there are buses which will take you right there, but you refuse to take them (even though you get out regularly and walk much further to buy the cigarettes that are killing you). You have just suddenly decided that I am your primary mode of transportation and you schedule your appointments around what you know are my free times every term. Same as you refuse to consider assisted living even though you clearly need it. As I have reminded you before, you CANNOT live with ME/my kids. Nope. Sorry. Not only no room but your habits you refuse to alter…NO. I refuse to live with a chainsmoker and prescription drug addict who wil not only stink up my place but probably burn it down.
I am sending in the application for the mass transit “Lift” service, which picks you up at your door and drops you off where you need to be and brings you back to your door, and I expect you to use it.
In the last several months I have already missed almost all of a mid-term, spent money I could not afford on gas, and spent entire DAYS driving you around.
And get this: I would not be nearly so annoyed if you had, over the past decade or more, EVER, ONCE, made any effort to make contact or show interest in me or your grandkids, even after we were living here in town…How many birthdays, holidays, have passed without any acknowledgement (due to your being a Jehovah’s Witness and just not giving a shit…great choice of religion for someone who’s always been so alientated from others, huh? And now, you seem to have given that up for lent or something, suddenly not having any problem with acknowledging my birthday when I called you last week:rolleyes:…And oh, yeah, you were with me at the hospital when my DH died, thanks, but I long ago got used to making excuses to the kids and others re’ why you were not around/couldn’t make it/hadn’t been in touch in months) but NOW, now that you need me, I am expected to drop everything and cater to you. FUCK THAT! :mad:
Wow, is that an Oscar worthy vent or WHAT? :o Hey, all in the spirit of Festivus…better out than in, as my Granny always said. ETA, the Granny my mother couldn’t stand, her mother, and whom she took NO responsibility for in her old age…the widowed sister did that)
Only one small grievance from me:
Dear LOUNE’s mother: If you’re going to wait until Christmas Eve to ask if LOUNE and I are going to your extended family’s Christmas gathering (which you hadn’t mentioned to either of us until that point), please don’t start to throw a fit when I say that we’re going to my parents’ house at 2 pm but we could try to drop by later. We’re having you over on Sunday, and you didn’t tell us about this other party, so I had no reason to assume that going to my parents’ house would conflict with anything else. Your family thing and my family thing also happen to start at the same time. Since I already told my mom that we would be there at 2 pm, we’re going there first.