i feel like Cousin Avi from Snatch, only with a slightly better attitude. i'm goin' to fuckin' LONDON, one of my few life-long dreams. am i ready for them? the sweets, the kippers, the architecture, the bangers, the accents? are they ready for me? muahahahahaHAHAHH.......... happy new year's to me!
i went to go get my two loads of laundry out of the dryers.. and found a pile from one dryer stacked on the other, with no new laundry drying. thanks, bitches, ran my thinking, but then this guy came in saying 'cheers' in an odd manner, to say the least. i just watched lock, stock and two smoking barrels - he reminded me of the stoner pot growers. he came in, looked around, saw his sock on the floor, was extremely happy and effusive about finding it, and left. ...and just as swift came back in, gushing about how warm the socks were and how many pairs of underwear (one silk) he wore today. all the while i'm thinking, it's 11:30 at night in a cold laundry room with a strange man going out of his way to talk to me about silk underwear.. do i have a situation here? thankfully he went about his merry way with no harsh words or fisticuffs, billowing 'cheers' on his (second) way out.
all together now: ...
i've been dealing with a corporate holiday gift-giving disaster at work - for a large order of fleece jackets for which i was responsible, Land's End charged my boss's credit card thirty-five times - while recovering from a cold and heading into the full blossom of PMS. but at the end of the day, i still get to come home to this:
yep, that's my kitchen cabinet coming apart at the joints. i noticed a few days ago that the doors weren't staying closed anymore. i looked closer last night and realized the top part of the cabinet was coming off the wall. called my building manager whilst at work. when i got home, i found it in its above state, doors wide open not due to flinging or to carelessness, but to gravity. looks like the frame is separating from the staples up at the top, for a reason i cannot fathom at this point in time. good thing i stopped off and bought booze on my way home, is it not?
let me tell you a little about PMS. it varies from woman to woman, sure. varies in duration, intensity, symptoms. with my own variety.. it's like suddenly waking up hogtied in a mental institution with only the vaguest idea of how you got there. you don't know you're there till you're there. and after you're there, you can only wave a sullen goodbye to sanity for the next two weeks.
this is not my beautiful house...
today i considered conjuring some kind of PMS 'brand' for my person, so as to warn fellow humans (i used to easily pass for your kind only two days ago!) of my current condition. maybe a shirt with a large P on it, or some manner of pink. that'd be a definite scare-all right there. my personal favorite idea is a football helmet with a one-way mirror covering the facehole that just has 'GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME' painted on it. crude but effective, no?
fact A: i am at work.
fact B: i have a Pantera song in my head entitled "Fucking Hostile."
coincedence? i think not.
