I will be leaving my job today (which I often ranted about), turning my computer off for the last time, typing up thank you letters for the LAST time, answering the damn phone and ‘finding true spectrums’ for my boss for the last time…
and I will be without my computer (or rather internet access) for months and months (or at least until the middle of August) And I no doubt will be angry.
I will still be angry with impatient, jaunty, ridiculous cell phone chatting mothers that insist on RUNNING WITH A GOD DAMN STROLLER ACROSS A BUSY STREET, AGAINST A YELLOW LIGHT.
What in the name of God is so important that you must risk the life of your six month old to cross the street 2 minutes earlier?
I will still be angry with Antonio Alfonseca, and Sammy Sosa, and the White Sox in general, and Mancow, and the Green Bay Packers.
I will still Hate Al Fucking Davis and hope he trips over his gaudy, glittery eyeglass chain into a pile of fresh and fly ridden horse poop.
I will try to refrain from yelling “HEY YOU KIDS…GET OUT OF MY YARD” even though since I’ve moved to the new condo I’ve had three kickballs hit my window and have been the unwily victim of “DING DONG DITCH” twice.
I will still grind my teeth angrily when someone says “He choked her to death” instead of “He strangled her to death”. Hear me now and understand:
**UNLESS THE MURDERER CLIMBED INSIDE THE WOMAN’S WINDPIPE AND BLOCKED IT, he was NOT CHOKING HER. :mad: **
I will still be fucking irritated (in absentia) by fake pit threads that call folks into the pit to tell them how fucking great they are. It ceased to be clever about fifty nine years ago, which is amazing since the internet didn’t even exist.
I will still hate SBC for insisting that I DO have a phone line and calling me honey when I insist that I don’t.
I hate that my developer swore our condo would be ready on June 5th and it still doesn’t have central air or phones.
I’m angry that the “Latin Kings” already ‘tagged’ our condo with blue spray paint.
My last name is McCartney…NOT MCCARTHY.
I hate tomatoes, and olives and E.T., and I don’t like James Cameron and i think that Clay Aiken looks like a bloodles, boneless Egret.
I hope you’ll have fun this summer without me, but just know…I’m still pretty mad.