I’m extremely pissed off at the moment… about absolutely nothing. But I also think I love you.
My day was a fairly normal one. I woke up at around nine a.m., nice sunny day, my little puppy curled up next to me. I felt nice. I felt good. I felt like I wanted to make love to the whole world. I slipped into my robe and did the normal toilet/shit/shower/shave bit, and then got dressed and padded into the kitchen.
There was a plate. I swear it was only one, but there was a plate, and it was on the kitchen sink and it hadn’t been washed. I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, and washed the plate, cursing my “lazy mf* flatmates can’t clean up after their dirty pig selves stupid a******* expect me to do every f****** thing in the house should move the f*** out what bastards.”
Well, after the plate episode, the rest of my breakfast was uneventful, except for the fact that I hoovered five bacon rashers, three eggs, four pieces of toast and three diet cokes. After that, I was calm. I felt pretty good. I wanted to hug my flatmates and tell them how much I loved them. I snuggled my puppy on my lap, watching tv, thinking about how great it was to be alive.
I was watching ** Good Morning Australia **. They have those paid advertisement segments on that show, and this one was selling some sort of hair remover with “micro technology.” I jumped up in a rage, spilling my poor puppy from my lap, and started a tirade. At * the television *.
“Stupid f****** people think we’re all idiots and will buy anything will you shut the f*** up and put on something important I don’t wanna make you rich SHUT UP! SHUT UP! the remote’s over there I can’t be bothered it’s YOUR fault not mine I DON"T HAVE to change the CHANNEL I’m waiting for Jerry Springer I’ll put my f****** fist through you I swear to God I will!”
And I went downhill fast from there.
In the firing line:
My Flatmates (“What was with that plate this morning? HUH? WHAT? You had to go to TAFE? It takes TWO MINUTES to wash up a plate! No, it WASN’T my turn! You’re being a DICKHEAD! Oh, I’M being a dickhead? I don’t HAVE to look at the roster! Ok, I will… I’m looking… oh. It was my turn to do the dishes. I’m sorry. sobs I’m so sorry! hugs I’m such a bitch! Please don’t hate me!”)
My Dog (“Shit Gizmo. Shit NOW. No, I don’t care, Trauma is on in five minutes, you need to shit! NOW! I’ll leave you out here! I swear I will! You don’t understand a word I’m saying do you? You think you’re Alpha dog here, well get this through your head, mister, I’M the ALPHA IN THIS HOUSE! Dog looking extremely curious at mommy’s outburst, tilting head back and forth Awww sweetie, you’re so cuuuuuute! cuddles I love you so much! I wove my widdle wookie!”)
The computer (“Why is this f****** thing so slow! I wanna read the Straightdope! Shut up Natalie! It’s all your porno, isn’t it? Oh… wait. I love porno. sobs I love you porno!”)
A potted plant in our lounge room (“Stupid f****** plant.”)
And now, I can’t SLEEP! I’m eating my weight’s worth of food! I have to pee! :mad:
But it’s a lovely night, I can see the stars, and chocolate tastes so good at 2:30 a.m.
I hear that starflower oil is good for PMS.