That is all.
Showing posts with label PMS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PMS. Show all posts
Monday, July 11, 2011
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Shannon and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
I should have known that it was going to be a long day when I got to work and the mere sound of a certain person's voice made me seriously contemplate cutting myself. Or calling in a bomb threat. Or make an electrical fire small enough to ensure the safety of others but big enough to cause a building wide black out for the rest of the day. I should have known I needed to go home and watch sad movies on lifetime and let the PMS cry itself out. I should have... but I didn't.
It was going fine through lunch. While I could tell that I was on edge, I seriously thought I could make it through - I mean, I only had 3.5 hours left - that's not long right? Wrong. So. Fucking. Wrong. I had one of those afternoons were I felt like no one was listening to me. Typically this wouldn't be a problem but since these were my co-workers and I rely on them to get the hell out of dodge at 5 pm - this is crucial. No one listened to me. Not once. Not at all. Five o'clock rolled around and this one fella was dying to talk to me. Obviously I made a bee line for the door and told one of my co-workers that if I didn't get out of there right then that the possibility of me snapping is no longer an IF but a WHEN.
I roll down the street to Kroger because I haven't gone grocery shopping in 3 weeks, give or take. I didn't go to crack head Kroger. I went to my usual Kroger, pick a cart out and head into the store. While I'm thinking to myself that I must have finally gotten a cart that wouldn't cause internal bleeding, 6 steps into the store the handle bar jams into my uterus. It felt wonderful, as I'm sure you can imagine. {I know everyone reading this knows exactly the kind of cart I'm talking about. The one with the old gross string of a mop tied around one of the wheels causing it to be moderately to completely immobile.} Shitty cart aside, I'm trying to make it through. I pick up some bananas and crackers and head to the meat department. In the meantime Old Man Kroger gets in my way with a big cart of god knows what causing me to put on the breaks of the worst grocery cart ever - once again impaling my uterus. Sweet, I didn't want that thing to work anyway. Not only did he just STOP in front of me he looked at me like I had told him I kill puppies in my free time. I maneuver around Old Man Kroger and make it to the chicken. Unlike the time before, they actually had chicken breast but it was being guarded by Old Woman Kroger. This little gem was putting out new price tags on gizzards or something gross like that. Clearly the 10 cent difference between chicken asshole would make a difference because homegirl didn't get the hint I was waiting. Someone needed to ask her a question {her response? Who knows. It was so far from English I was positive that I had transported to another planet}. Old Woman Kroger moved out of the way long enough for me to reach over and grab one package of chicken. Then she turns around and straight up walks into me. No apology. No excuse me. She, too, looks at me like I'm a puppy killer and goes about pricing chicken ball sacks. All the while trying to nudge me further out of the way. I grab my purse and my bags and loudly proclaim how I can't handle this and leave my baby killing cart in the middle of the aisle.
Apparently Memphis got a memo that I didn't. APPARENTLY today was drive 5 MPH down the busiest street in Memphis taking up 2 lanes. Cuuuute, real cute. Against Grace's advise, I stop to get some cigarettes {yes, I'm smoking again. Shame me at your own risk} and here I sit. On my bed. Leftover 18 pack by my side. Seriously thinking about smoking inside - gross. Typing my first blog {I had to write this one before I covered the Thanksgiving festivities}. All I have to say is FUCK YOU, TUESDAY.
I can't believe I haven't shared this with you yet. I added a sign to the break room at work. If you don't remember the Sign Nazi - read this. I make myself laugh so much it's unnerving.
It was going fine through lunch. While I could tell that I was on edge, I seriously thought I could make it through - I mean, I only had 3.5 hours left - that's not long right? Wrong. So. Fucking. Wrong. I had one of those afternoons were I felt like no one was listening to me. Typically this wouldn't be a problem but since these were my co-workers and I rely on them to get the hell out of dodge at 5 pm - this is crucial. No one listened to me. Not once. Not at all. Five o'clock rolled around and this one fella was dying to talk to me. Obviously I made a bee line for the door and told one of my co-workers that if I didn't get out of there right then that the possibility of me snapping is no longer an IF but a WHEN.
I roll down the street to Kroger because I haven't gone grocery shopping in 3 weeks, give or take. I didn't go to crack head Kroger. I went to my usual Kroger, pick a cart out and head into the store. While I'm thinking to myself that I must have finally gotten a cart that wouldn't cause internal bleeding, 6 steps into the store the handle bar jams into my uterus. It felt wonderful, as I'm sure you can imagine. {I know everyone reading this knows exactly the kind of cart I'm talking about. The one with the old gross string of a mop tied around one of the wheels causing it to be moderately to completely immobile.} Shitty cart aside, I'm trying to make it through. I pick up some bananas and crackers and head to the meat department. In the meantime Old Man Kroger gets in my way with a big cart of god knows what causing me to put on the breaks of the worst grocery cart ever - once again impaling my uterus. Sweet, I didn't want that thing to work anyway. Not only did he just STOP in front of me he looked at me like I had told him I kill puppies in my free time. I maneuver around Old Man Kroger and make it to the chicken. Unlike the time before, they actually had chicken breast but it was being guarded by Old Woman Kroger. This little gem was putting out new price tags on gizzards or something gross like that. Clearly the 10 cent difference between chicken asshole would make a difference because homegirl didn't get the hint I was waiting. Someone needed to ask her a question {her response? Who knows. It was so far from English I was positive that I had transported to another planet}. Old Woman Kroger moved out of the way long enough for me to reach over and grab one package of chicken. Then she turns around and straight up walks into me. No apology. No excuse me. She, too, looks at me like I'm a puppy killer and goes about pricing chicken ball sacks. All the while trying to nudge me further out of the way. I grab my purse and my bags and loudly proclaim how I can't handle this and leave my baby killing cart in the middle of the aisle.
Apparently Memphis got a memo that I didn't. APPARENTLY today was drive 5 MPH down the busiest street in Memphis taking up 2 lanes. Cuuuute, real cute. Against Grace's advise, I stop to get some cigarettes {yes, I'm smoking again. Shame me at your own risk} and here I sit. On my bed. Leftover 18 pack by my side. Seriously thinking about smoking inside - gross. Typing my first blog {I had to write this one before I covered the Thanksgiving festivities}. All I have to say is FUCK YOU, TUESDAY.
I can't believe I haven't shared this with you yet. I added a sign to the break room at work. If you don't remember the Sign Nazi - read this. I make myself laugh so much it's unnerving.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I shot a man in Reno.
I'm kind of on edge this today... er... this week. No? This month? Ok fine. I have a short fuse. I'd like to think I'm usually more calm, cool and collected. Can we blame this on PMS? Because that's what I'm going with... who cares if I've been using this excuse for the past decade? I would suggest against challenging me on this. Know who the real victims here are? Boys. Any boys. All boys. Before the clog wearing feminists ignite their sensible bras on fire with the same flame that set ablaze the nag champa, let me explain: Sure they don't have to go through childbirth, they get paid more, blah, blah, blah. But we are looking past something that must really suck: they have balls. (Or ball as the case may be... which may be more awkward than having two. Who knows?) I'd much rather have a baby then have balls. PLUS when they have their panties in a wad for no apparent reason they can't blame it on PMS. Even though I am relatively sure that several of the men I know actually do have periods. And if they don't? Well then they are just dick heads. And they have balls. So they automatically lose.
Speaking of men: do you know what I find to be an offense punishable by at least one flick to your cash and prizes? When people use the term "my man," or "my girl/woman," you get it... I find this particularly irksome when someone you know well enough to recognize the significant other's real name. We get it. You are in a relationship. Unless you are a 13 year still hanging out with your mom and dad on the weekend... or 43 years old still hanging out with your mom and dad on the weekend, there is no reason to use pet names, nick names, etc. Real names people. Thanks.
Did you know that it is a mere 22 days until UT football starts? Do you know what else that means? It's almost fall... here's a little taste of what I am most looking forward to about fall:
What are YOU looking forward to?
Until tomorrow, my loves. Here is Johnny Cash. That's it.
smooches.
Speaking of men: do you know what I find to be an offense punishable by at least one flick to your cash and prizes? When people use the term "my man," or "my girl/woman," you get it... I find this particularly irksome when someone you know well enough to recognize the significant other's real name. We get it. You are in a relationship. Unless you are a 13 year still hanging out with your mom and dad on the weekend... or 43 years old still hanging out with your mom and dad on the weekend, there is no reason to use pet names, nick names, etc. Real names people. Thanks.
Did you know that it is a mere 22 days until UT football starts? Do you know what else that means? It's almost fall... here's a little taste of what I am most looking forward to about fall:
- First and foremost:
 |
| Football time in TENNESSEE!!!!! |
- Red wine
- Hoodies
- Onesies
- Sitting on the front porch and not having a heat stroke
- Cooper Young Fest / House warming partaaaaaay
- Knee high boots
- Closed toe shoes
- Thanksgiving
- Of course it's not Thanksgiving without Super T
What are YOU looking forward to?
Until tomorrow, my loves. Here is Johnny Cash. That's it.
smooches.
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