Sorry, Chef, a bit out of the way 
What’s with the fucking sprinklers???
You understand that you should point them at the grass, right. My car will not grow no matter HOW much water you spray on it.
I went for a walk this evening, enjoying the pleasant darkness, listing to my MP3 player. I was walking down the middle of the sidewalk and then BAM, I get a stream of water in my ear so hard it nearly took my glasses off. The spray comes from the grass on my right. I am 6’2" and it hits me in the ear, the sidewalk is about 3’, so that stream would have made it a couple of feet out into the street where there is no fucking grass gorramit!!!.
If it makes me an elitist to say that you are not ‘college educated’ since you spent four semesters fucking around at communiy college but managed not to earn even an associate’s, then sure, I’m an elitist. I’m also right, dumbass.
I needed some more undergonch, so I check the brand and size of a pair that fits perfectly, and off to buy some more of those. All you ladies know how this rant goes - same brand, same size, but they don’t fit, no way, no how. WTF, Fruit of the Loom? In a perfect world, sizes would mean something, not just be a general suggestion.
(The second half of the rant is aimed at me, for washing them before trying them on so I can’t return them now. What the hell was I thinking?)
Cat, that reminds me of the time I found the perfect pair of jeans. I was so happy, I picked up two more of the exact same pair in different colors. Of course, one of those was too big and the other was too small, so I took them back.
Then I decided I might as well just get another pair identical to the first. I tried them on (because I got smart!) and they were so big I could have raised a family in them. Okay… 
I’ve had that experience, too - trying to buy two of the same item, and you have to try BOTH on, because the same item in the same size isn’t the same size. My husband waltzes in, picks out a pair of jeans in his waist size and leg length, and they always fit the same, every time. Again, WTF, man?
If it makes you feel any better, I have bought the same type and size of Hanes for 6 years and the last time I bought them, they were HUGE. I compared them to the ones I bought a few months ago and they are at least three inches larger in each dimension
Why not? Are you on the no-fly list or something?
Put down the back-bacon, put on your Dudley Do-Right and/or Nell costume, and GET DOWN HERE. It’s not like the northern U.S. border isn’t porous as hell.
My husband is similar. Normally I don’t mind reminding him once or twice of things that need to be done unless it is a safety concern. I remind him at least twice a week to please not leave his razor on the bathroom counter. Kitties like to jump up there and could cut themselves up, they like to knock stuff on the floor where the puppy could get it and cut herself up, etc. I’ve tried asking nicely. I’ve tried asking rudely. I’ve tried hiding his razor and making him search high and low for it when he needs to shave. Yesterday when I found it on the counter again I guilted him about how his inability to pick up dangerous stuff is going to hurt our baby after she is born and he got furious with me about trying to make him feel bad. You know what will fix that? PUTTING UP YOUR GODDAMN RAZOR! It is the same with butcher knives on the counters and tables, syringes on the counters and tables (he is a diabetic), etc. The other day I took a syringe away from the dog and showed him how it was all chewed up and he sheepishly said, “Well, the cap is still on it so she didn’t hurt herself.” :mad::dubious:
I’m still pregnant. My due date is Thursday, but a week and a half ago last my midwife said I’d go within the week. Liar. I’m huge and unwieldy and my bump is hard as a rock. My feet are huge, and a nerve on my right knee has been seriously acting up. My left hip is all out of wack, and because of that I am having a hard time lifting my left leg high enough to get in the passenger side of a car.
I have to pee all the time, but I only pee out a teaspoon and a half and there is still pee left inside because my stuff is all shoved out of place from the fetal head lodged at zero station for the last two weeks. If I get up in the middle of the night to pee it hurts to walk because my now full bladder and my child’s head are doing battle for my pelvic real estate. I wear two pairs of panties at all times with a panty liner sandwiched between them to catch drips. I can’t just wear the liner against my skin because it’s too irritating. I’ve just decided to buy new panties when this is all over because I have trashed them all.
Since the little asshole dropped I’ve been able to eat a lot more and by my midwife’s estimate he gained almost a pound over the last week or so. Great. That will be fun to push out.
I am so fucking tired of people talking to me randomly just because I’m pregnant. I tried to be nice to them, but at this point I’m a pile of uncomfortable, flatulent, piss-soaked hormones and I really don’t give a shit if I offend that old lady who wants to let me know riding on a bumpy gravel road will get him out faster. Fuck off and talk to someone you actually know bitch.
Friday Midwife actually gave me a get out of jail free card–said I could come in and get induced tomorrow morning if I wanted. After much consideration I declined. I wanted to experience this whole labor thing as naturally as possible, and though I’m not at all against using interventions and drugs if I find I need them, I’d rather not start out on the wrong foot. I told her I’d let him go another week and if he hasn’t made an appearance I’d go for some induction. Which means that every time I piss myself, have heart burn, can’t move the way I wanted, bump my tender knee, am late because I couldn’t walk fast enough, can’t sleep, etc over the next week I’ll have one thing on my mind: “You could have been done by now you stupid bitch.”
So, I come home and see a porta-potty in front of my yard. Maybe even on my property, I’m not clear on who owns the culverts.
There have been workers digging out the culvert ditches, so I assume that’s who put it there.
I know that those guys need a place to relieve themselves. BUT, they put it right where the teenagers back their truck into my ditch, Halloween is coming soon, and it sure makes my yard look wonderful.
Tomorrow, I’ll make a few calls. I think it would look much better in front of crazy neighbor lady’s yard. I don’t have any real power as far as TPTB are concerned, but their secretaries all love me.
It was quite the WTF moment when I got home, tho.
I’ll have you know that we regularly cross the border into the US. {sniffs} (They always take my fruit, but they let us in.)
Halloween in Dallas/Fort Worth, eh? Interesting. Maybe we’d dress up as US Americans. 
Ooooohhhh, SCARY! 
Woke up cranky this morning. Like puppy-kicking cranky.
I hate being PO’d before there’s really anything to be PO’ed about.
Hrmf.
It’s Texas, if you talk loudly at everybody they’ll just think you’re local. d&r
Ditto.
Don’t worry; just wait a few minutes.
Fuck insomnia.
Fuck it with a giant saguaro cactus wrapped in rusty barbed wire.
I needed to be coherent today. It is not happening.
Fuck.
Oh yes, starting off the day with an ocular migraine is always my favorite thing to do. Both eyes, jagged edges. Only about 15 minutes this time, but it always leaves me feeling tired. Science, of course, not only has no remedy, they have no clue as to what causes it. “Have you tried poking a turkey drumstick up yer bum?”
What did that turkey drumstick ever do to you?