I am so fucking crabby today for no actual reason that I can pin point. I have had some idiocy and annoyances cross my path today, but no more so than most other days. It's the kind of crabby, bitchy if you will, that you feel more in your loins than in your head. It rises up through your chest and tries to escape out of your mouth and you have to choke it back. You have to repeat things in your head like "chill out", "don't react", "take a breath", "you are bitchy for no reason", and "DO NOT REACT!". While the likelihood that other people are being douches is high, your normal ability to deal with such douchery is replaced by the urge to freak the fuck out.
DO NOT SAY IT! DON'T EVEN THINK IT! I am absolutely not on/about to get my period. That is such a cliched, bull shit, male-centric thinking. I expect better of you people, dammit! I know that I'm not about to bleed out, because I don't even get periods anymore. So there! Thanks to my Mirena baby IUD, which by the way is better than sliced bread. I'd slice my own bread for eternity rather than bleed and cramp for 1 out of every 4 weeks. Hands down. No contest.
The crabbiness as it were started this morning at 5 a.m. when I was actually sleeping and was awoken mid-dream by Scott telling me that the girl had been in the shower since 4 a.m. What the fuck man? I don't care! I'm asleep!
My irritation continued to fester during Kindergarten centers (5 & 6 year olds are so self-centered), it started escaping during a draining game of Qwirkle (more 6 year old fun), and it came spilling out during the girl's baton "practice time" (you can make special arrangements and you can lead a twirler to the gym, but you can't make them have a productive practice).
I possibly over-reacted a bit both during the Qwirkle and the baton. Is it bad parenting to tell your 6 year old you're not going to play games with him anymore if he keeps peeking at your tiles and that it's bad strategy to keep turning in all your tiles when you clearly have moves you could make and to hurry it up already? What about if instead of the normal yelling that falls on deaf ears, you just sigh and exhibit disappointment and hurt that your tired child who is on her 4th day in a row of baton practice isn't giving 110%?
It's still January and I may already be out of the running for Mother of the Year. Bollocks.
Did I mention that, because apparently I've been bad and karma wants a good laugh, Scott, who almost never works late, is working late tonight so it's just me and my rapscallions my lovely offspring till bedtime and beyond?
I may or may not have come home and started eating powdered chocolate frosting mix with a spoon.
I may or may not be considering starting dinner early so I can open wine to use in a sauce and then pour myself a glass. It's common knowledge that once you start preparing dinner, it's okay to have a drink. What? Just in my family, then?
To be fair, even though I don't ovulate or cleanse my uterus, I do notice I still have some occasional hormone and mood issues. So, that actually probably could be the issue. Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to jump down your throat? I apologize.
I would go apologize to the kids, but they are separated and in time-outs for a very legitimate reason I assure you.
peace & love :-)
The other night some friends and I went to see The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I've read the book and knew we were in for some dark and heavy stuff. The movie was well done and fairly true to the book though I think I would have been lost in places if I had not read the book. Lucky for you, I'm not confused enough to think I'm a movie reviewer and that's not what this post is about.
This post is about the most fabulous t-shirt I've ever seen worn by Lisbeth Salander in the movie that said:
I couldn't find an image of her in it from the movie, but I did find it for sale on the interweb and you can buy it here.
If you haven't read the book or seen the movie then you don't know that this girl has had a very rough go in life and this is the perfect shirt for her. Just perfect! My first reaction when I saw her in it was to laugh. It was a rare moment of levity in this heavy story.
My second reaction was to turn to my friend and say, "Is it too late for me to put that on my Xmas list?!!"
I heart this shirt! It speaks to me.
Why am I coveting this?
I have had some bummer things happen in my life, but nothing approaching the Lisbeth character's woes. So it's not that.
It's not appropriate to cruise around town in. Not exactly the right thing for school pick up. I can't even wear it around my house as my children can read. It's not like they've never heard that word come flying out of my mouth, but this would be a bit in their face. So it's not that.
I do really love the word fuck. It's all purpose. I can use it as any part of speech. It can be used for good or evil. So I guess that's part of it.
But also, even though that's not what's in my head most of the time, there are definitely times it's flashing in there fast and furious. Wouldn't it be nice when faced with a person of an assholish nature to just point at your awesome t-shirt and smile? Yep, that's it.
I think what I'm going to do is order several of the shirts in an extra small and modify them into tank tops which I can then wear as undershirts. That way on any given day I'll be ready to strip down, point, and smile.
peace & love :-)
I took the "Not for the easily offended" line off my blog's description, because as it turns out I don't actually care if people are offended by what I write. You'll find me insolent or not and you'll keep reading or not.
If you keep reading, then I hope you're are smiling, chuckling or full on snort laughing. Although I want you to be doing it, I cannot bring myself to type the accepted abbreviation for "laughing out loud", because I hate those 3 little letters strung together. I don't know why. It seems unreasonable I know, but to me it's like nails on a chalkboard. Also "laughing my fucking ass off" or even worse "rolling on the floor laughing my fucking ass off" in their abbreviated forms. Just type ":-D" or "ha" or "funny" or take the time to tap out "that's fucking funny" or something. Anything but ROTFLMFAO.
I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, my lack of concern regarding my obnoxious, distasteful, abhorrent musings.
When a new reader happens along, it will not take very long for them to figure out that I think the word fuck is an adverb, a noun, a verb and an interjection. And also that sometimes, possibly, maybe, perhaps, on
occasion, I cross a line or two.
The sky will not fall. The Rapture will not come. They might even laugh. Because sometimes offensive things are really fucking funny. Plus, as it turns out, in the wide world of blogging, I'm pretty tame.
Peace & Love :-)
