||[Feb. 17th, 2009|08:25 am]
My annoyances are many and while it won't make for interesting reading, I must purge, in order to resume my happy-go-lucky self:|
Dear neighbor and neighbor's friends. What the hell is with you people? The entire road is empty of cars. Full of parking spaces. And you insist on parking right in front of my walk. Look, when the streets are crowded, I have no problem with my walkway being blocked. 'Cause it's crowded. But when there is a parking space to the right of my frontwalk. And a parking space to the left of my frontwalk. And, oh, yeah, no other cars on either side, so you don't even have to parallel park...freaking pull two feet forward or two feet back and let me get out of my freaking yard, without having to clamber over bushes. I walk my dog 5 times a day. So that's five times a day I have to resist the urge to come over and have a temper tantrum. You are not good for my blood pressure.
Dear whatever the Captain and I ate over the weekend that PROSTRATED us all day Saturday, what with the vomiting, the chills, the shaking, the moaning...thanks a lot. Sure, I was prepared for a bit of a hangover -- but four hours of dry heaves and then the companion afterpiece where being upright on the toilet was a novelty for only so long...but really, it was an entire wasted day. I was so looking forward to the three-day weekend, so that I could actually get a jump on all of the stuff I needed to get done. And you, you bastard piece of unsafe food/unwashed hand, you ruined it. My back, knees and stomach muscles still hurt. Plus, the only thing I could then stomach was carbs laced with cheese, so I can't even revel in weight loss. And, well it WAS Valentine's Day weekend, so I managed to choke down a lot of chocolate, despite you.
I know, the rest of you are going...but what about chicken broth, ginger ale and some saltines? Blessing or a curse, I have an iron stomach. So I can get really sick, but as soon as I manage ginger ale, my stomach is looking for something major to fill it. Bread and Cheese, Macaroni and Cheese, Tortellini...heaven forbid I LOSE AN OUNCE...the only time I lose weight when I'm sick is if I'm too freaking disoriented to find the kitchen.
Dear colleague, when I say I'm going to send you something right away and you don't get it right away...don't wait two weeks to say something and then get all outraged that it's been two weeks. Dude, the next day would have been a good time to bring it up. I don't know what happened to it -- did I fail to pass it on to my assistant? Did she fail to send it to you? Two weeks later, I actually don't care anymore. I'm only thinking, where've ya been for two weeks buddy? Asleep at the wheel? Call me the next day, even two days later and I'll feel guilty that I screwed up. Not now...
Ah, I feel a little better. Hopefully I will return later to be more amusing.