I remember one episode of the Bob Newhart show (the one in the 70s; not the one situated in Vermont) where Dr. Hartley had Mr. Carlin keep a journal of everything that bothered him. When Mr. Carlin met with Dr. Hartley, he delivered a blow by blow, minute by minute, recount of the previous days aggravations.
I feel like Mr. Carlin. Everything is just getting on my last nerve. For example, I asked my husband to get me the Entenman’s chocolate covered donuts. Now for as long as I can remember, every time I’ve ever bought these donuts, they were yellow cake donuts covered in chocolate. So where did he find devils food donuts covered in chocolate? Never, even by chance, have I purchased the devils food chocolate covered donuts. And no, I don’t like them; they are too sweet.
I asked him to get me Mentadent toothpaste. Now, am I the only person who buys toothpaste in this house? I always buy the mint flavored. Why the fuck did he get the new Replenishing White w/Calcium formula? in peppermint fusion flavor? What is that anyway? It tastes like shit.
And who taught him to make a bed? There is more to making a bed than just pulling up the sheets.
And I am at the mercy of this domestic cripple. I gave up on letting him prepare my food when he handed me a plate with some bacon and toast and announced that the egg was not done yet but would be ready soon. I don’t know about you, but I like to eat my egg WITH the toast, not afterwards.
And they delivered our baby furniture and there are a few minor scratches on it; and my husband complained bitterly that he was not going to accept the furniture in that condition, yadda yadda, and when I told him he’d have to work it out, suddenly “well if you don’t care then neither do I…” Mr. Macho. It’s fine if I’m the one who has to call them up and bitch them out…what am I? his fucking lackey?
So I agree to call and bitch out the furniture store after Mr. Macho continues to point out every little defect in these beds. I tell him to write down all the perceived deficiencies so I don’t miss any, when he tells me “I can’t write it down. How am I supposed to describe that?” Well how the fuck am I supposed to describe it to the store clerk if he can’t?
And my husband bitched b/c they left a white scratch on our wood floor; And he had the nerve to suggest that if he’d been here, that would not have happened. Since the delivery guys did not have a floor buffer with them, not sure how this would have been fixed.
And Jonathan Antin, you make me sick you egomaniac. But what makes me more sick, is that I continue to tune into that trash reality show Blow Out on Bravo! Jonathan, take your new hair product line and shove it up your ass, already!
Babies R Us – you suck too. I tried to make a list of shit I needed for the babies’ layette, I decided I’d just add everything to a registry and print it out. This turned out to be an exercise in futility. The little caps I wanted? Only available in blue or yellow, they will e-mail when the pink and white ones are available. Some items I wanted, forget it, you could not add them to the registry but they could be added to a wish list. None of the items had a very good description of the product. Everything for little girls was pink. Most of the shit was ugly. And why is this my job? Why am I the only one concerned that the cribs will have bedding or the babies clothing?
Laying down makes my back and neck hurt, sitting up makes my lower back hurt, when I stand up, my uterus crushes my bladder and makes me feel like I have to go to the bathroom.
Buster (the cat) won’t leave me alone. Bugsy and Fat Tony are ignoring me. And the mother fucking remote control just quit working.
Enough Already!!!