You know that this photo just doesn't do that moon justice.
A quick post full of petty complaints.
First and foremost, the keys on this keyboard are sticking and refusing to type. This has me more irritated than anything else I've encountered today. This development may be the only thing that will cause me to choose my words carefully and be succinct.
Was I irritated because my supervisor, who is a petite blonde, dressed up as Gene Simmons, complete with seven-inch, double platform shoes and went to a KISS concert? No. Absolutely not. But I'll blame her anyway because if she'd been there we could have spent the day exchanging insults and amusing ourselves with our rapier wit. So it's her fault and I must remember to tell her this is the morning.
Some irritants can not be discussed. Sorry. Not really. Those are the juicy bits, too, you know.
I am somewhat fed up with my Amazon store right now. I spent HOURS on the weekend building my store, filling it with really cool stuff, only to find that it isn't showing up on Chicken and Sponge. I don't have time to waste. I'm not sure if I even have time to figure this out. But I will try.
My difficult guy at work had a difficult day. For some reason, that meant I had a difficult day. That isn't my usual. Believe it or not, my usual is to keep my sense of humor and my patience. But not today. Today I was quietly and grimly determined to just survive the day. This, as mentioned before, is Tammi's fault. Yes, that is the guilty party's name. Tammi. Get used to seeing it. Get used to hearing about it. Move over Mick, I've got a new whipping post now.
Tammi was supposed to show me how to do a text message today. She is an expert. She didn't of course, because she was too busy dressing up as an aging rocker and going to a concert and having fun. Fun, that thing I didn't have today. I wish she would have shown me how to do a text message because I would be texting her right now. I'd be telling her that I had a surprisingly lousy day. I'd tell her it is all her fault. I'd tell her that she's the new whipping post--Mick has been retired. Now I will just have to tell her in person.
Irritants.
Miranda listens to her programs too loud.
Sam is still a clothes shredder.
Miranda doesn't put her huge pink comforter away (which she stole from her sister, incidentally) and she leaves it in the recliner as to make it so uninviting that no one else feels like sitting there.
Sam is watching Mama Mia to go to sleep to. That is not a musical to sleep to. That is a musical to stay up all night dancing to.
Miranda leaves her dirty clothes behind the bathroom door.
Mick forgets to do laundry.
Mick doesn't like to fold laundry.
The bathrooms need to be cleaned.
I clean at work all the time.
The dog bedding stinks.
Zeus has a big gross tongue and bad breath.
The cats won't hold still for any good photos. They still puke, too.
No one is cooperating for photos.
The hot tub is still broken.
It is ALL Tammi's fault.
I feel better now. Or I would except that the keys are still sticking. Double letters in words are the worst. Do you know how many words we use that contain double letters?
So I'm done. That's it. Lame or not, that is all I can handle tonight. Tomorrow Mick will work on this problem and get it fixed for me. God knows Tammi won't.
Exhibit A: Hedwig, of course, moved just as I was getting ready to take a great photo, resulting in mediocrity.
OK. That face puts me in a better mood. Louise, laying in the recliner on Miranda's obnoxious comforter, which would really annoy Miranda.
Comments