Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Things That Can F*CK OFF This Week.

Just some things that make me want to punch babies this week...

Anything Less Than a Queen Sized Bed: You know how every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings? Well every time two people sleep in a queen size bed, those wings catch fire. Two cats, a large man, and a pissy-not-morning-blonde in a small bed ruins lives. There's that stage in a relationship where you go from "let's spoon all night and I'll pretend that dislodging our sweaty bodies in the morning doesn't remind me of peeling apart a two hour old grilled cheese" to "get off me, bitch; I'm sleeping and you're scrunching up my sweatpants and ruining the logistics of the sheet to blanket ratio."



Whole Foods Judgment: No, I didn't bring my own bag, you f*ckers.  Because I just spent my life savings (and the $3 in quarters that I found behind my dryer) on some fancy ass cheese, designer non-GMO kale, and some supplements to cure my ass cellulite.  JK, guys... I don't eat kale or have life savings...but I do have ass cellulite. One time after spending $160 on moldy cheeses I said "I'm probably going to have to stop over at the plasma donation place for gas money to get home." Whole Foods Hippie #24 just stared at me; then I realized he was judging because I was using gas and not like recycled vegetable oil from Panda Express or whatever. I prefer to eat my Panda Express oil rather than burn it for fuel. Just give me my f*cking paper bag to hold my 19 french cheeses, asshole.



Dermatologists (and other asshole doctors who tell me to stop picking my face):  I had a real flattering moment recently.  I went to get my vag prodded (see recent post for extensive unnecessary details) and before even looking at my sweet beav, my doctor says "do you want me to prescribe something for your acne?"  Listen betch, I know I'm ug right now.  I don't focus on freshening up my face before someone's about to be elbows deep in my twat... EYES DOWN THERE.  Also, ignoring a zit is like ignoring a stray cat... both need immediate attention and lots of unsolicited squeezes.  And as for the dermatologist, JUST GIVE ME MY BOTOX.  I pay for you to swallow your judgment and inject me with dangerous toxins... and your face should be so thoroughly botoxed that I shouldn't be able to see judgment, anyway.



Solicitors:  So recently, my neighborhood has developed a small gang of solicitors selling shit products with incredible sales tactics.  They do this thing where you open the door, because you think they're selling girl scout cookies (show me a PMSing woman who turns away thin mints and I will show you a liar), and they immediately shove this little booklet into your hand.  AND THEN YOU ARE TRAPPED.  You may as well be standing there with their dick in your hands, because you are wildly uncomfortable, are awkwardly holding something that doesn't belong to you, and can't help but wonder how many other people have touched it. What kind of sorcery is this?!  Who taught them this trick? Billy Mays?  If you try and give it back to them, they act like they have nubs for hands or no opposable thumbs. What happened to the friendly Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses coming door to door?  At least they don't trap you with their pamphlets, they just leave them in your doorknob. And the Mormons usually bring baked goods.  #thankgod



Phone Case Judgment:  Listen, I'm profesh as f*ck. If I have to number two at work, I wait silently on the toilet until everyone leaves the bathroom (If you're female, you have done this).



I never microwave leftover fish for lunch.  I've only burned popcorn in the work microwave twice; but have obvs blamed other people.  I'm an EXCELLENT coworker; if I want to have a phone case with cat ears on my cellular device that I don't pay for, I will.

What drives you guys crazy?

XOXO,
K



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