Archive for the 'Rants' Category

Published by PaintingChef on 15 Jan 2013

The return of the angry girl we all knew and loved.

I’m not sure what it is about the rain and the gloom and the dreary that makes me so batshit insane but lately? My LIST… you know… the list of people you want to stab in the neck with a rusty butter knife and watch them bleed out slowly? That list? Growing.

So just a brief note before we move on… if you are here researching me in any way as a prospective adoptive parent of your embryo or your fetus… please move along. I promise you that I’m a good person. I really am. You know how I know this? Because I have never ONCE acted on a threat of actual physical harm. Yes. I’ve threatened to yank out someone’s intestines, knit them into a scarf and strangle them with it. And… okay… there may be the aforementioned need for a jugular-adjacent rusty butter knife but if it makes you feel any better… I don’t know how to knit and I’m pretty sure that all of my butter knives are currently in my husband’s basement because apparently they make EXCELLENT spackle knives. Also? I can’t find a jugular. Is he that guy in the circus? They have clowns at the circus so you can just COUNT. ME. OUT.

In fact… the only physical violence I’ve EVER committed was a crime against a frozen chicken and I blame that 100% on fertility meds. So see…? By gifting me with your embryo/fetus/etc. you are actually SAVING humanity. Or at the very least frozen dead chickens.

That said… can we chat? I’ve been pretty damn happy recently which has made this a boring place to be. I know it. You know it. We ALL know it. I’ve completely and totally lost my edge but I have good news! I’m fired up right now. And Patrick and I are in the planning stages of a very large (for us) house renovation so I assure that things will be a-sparkin’ once that gets underway.

For whatever reason, I’ve been surrounded by giant fucking idiots and assholes recently. I’m pretty sure that if I could just vent about them all at once, I will lower my blood pressure and be able to continue on my happy path of red wine and Big Bang Theory reruns.

(Seriously… I thought we were friends! Why did nobody tell me about this show?)

And now… people I want to… HAVE WORDS with…

1. That guy with the crooked hat in the plumbing department at Lowe’s. You sir? Are a first rate misogynist. (Does that mean what I think it does?) Yes. I am a lady in a skirt and heels in the plumbing department. But guess what? I have this weird gift. It’s taken Patrick YEARS to even partially acknowledge it. My gift? I FIND SHIT. (MY other gift is that I’m a walking IMDB but that doesn’t really apply here unless you want to know who would best portray you in a movie and I’m going to go ahead and say Billy Redden from Deliverance.) I may have no clue how the teensy little connector piece I am looking for works but Patrick can describe it to me and turn me loose in that aisle of SHINY and I will find it. So if you could kindly refrain from calling me honey and following me around asking me questions and let me do my thing, I will, in turn, refrain from commenting on how inbred you look with your hat like that nor will I whip out my emergency breath freshener or offer to go fetch you some deodorant. I will NOT, however, refrain from stepping on your stupid camouflage boot with my very stabby heel… oh, oops! SO sorry…

2. That guy who wanders into my office asking for directions to somewhere in the general area. I promise I’m trying to help you get there but when you repeat the last three words of every sentence I say, you aren’t listening. You are annoying me. And I’m going to sit here and stare at you until you shut the fuck up and oh by the way… why aren’t you writing this down? In the words of Pretty Woman… I can do whatever I want sugar, I’m not lost.

3. The OTHER guy who wanders into my office looking for a job. We aren’t hiring. I told you this POLITELY three times. I even gave you an application to fill out when you asked even though, did I mention? WE AREN’T HIRING. But guess what? Even if we were? I’m not the person interviewing you. So while I admire your commitment to hard work and helping your granddaddy, your stories about all the hours you spent working on his tractor aren’t helping you for a number of reasons. First? Clearly you aren’t one for paying attention to people. We kind of like paying attention in these parts. Also? I’m glad his tractor runs like a greased prize pig now but we are a concrete company. We hire carpenters. Did you build that tractor out of wood? No? Then I’m not impressed. Also again? NOT FUCKING HIRING.

4. Diamond blade telephone salespeople and financial services salespeople doing cold calls. Specific enough for you? You people have watched “Wall Street” and “The Boiler Room” one too many times. You have no need to talk to me, I get it. Fine. But guess what… the guys that you are SO desperate to talk to that when I have the lady-balls to ask you for more information you respond by calling called me a stupid and nosy C-U-Next-Tuesday (even I have my profanity limits) who will soon be fired because I’m costing those men a lot of money by not immediately putting you through to them and generously offering you a little bonus phone sex while I’m at it… those guys? Yeah… one of them is my father and the other one is my husband… which one would you like first?

Four seems like a nice even number for now… What about the 12 of you who still read this? Who has made you stabby recently?

Published by PaintingChef on 05 Sep 2012

On political discourse, Facebook and the state of my tomatoes.

Dear all my Facebook Friends…

I get it. Politics. It’s serious. You are very passionate about your guy and I’m sure that you are certain that if you just post ONE MORE snarky comment about MY guy and his family or his wife or his ideals or whatever, that you are CERTAIN I will see the error of my ways and come a-runnin’ to your side of the fence.

But here’s the thing. We don’t agree and we aren’t going to agree and I really do try my hardest to just… ignore you. I respect your intelligence enough to believe that your views have validity, even when I strongly disagree.** Except for a few of you… a few of you I kind of think are total nut jobs but I think that all the time so this really doesn’t have anything to do with you.

So maybe stop yelling. Stop seizing every little morsel of fringe information out there and pouncing on it like it’s the gospel truth. I have the same view of the information that you get from FOX news that you have of the information I glean from NPR. I don’t trust your sources and you don’t trust mine. And that’s FINE. That’s the way the world works.

Here’s a question though… do you remember when there used to be this thing called “compromise” and how people were willing to accept that there was value on both sides of an argument? That was cool… wouldn’t it be great if we could revisit that and see if there was still some merit to it?

I’m just exhausted. I’m tired of opening up my Facebook feed and having to duck bullets because it’s such a war zone. If you are passionate about something, be an advocate for change in a fashion that might actually have some results. Don’t mock the first lady’s dress on Facebook. That’s just petty. (And that dress was the shit. Seriously. Tracey Reese for Secretary of Dresses.) If you are frustrated, get involved. If you are angry, contact someone who is in a position to do something about it. Volunteer for a campaign. Run for office yourself.

But I’m really more interested in mocking what you are listening to on Spotify, finding out what good books you’ve read lately and seeing pictures of your new puppy. I want to see a movie this weekend, got any suggestions? Do you think Miley Cyrus is pregnant? What’s a Harry Styles? Have you read that Vanity Fair article about Scientology yet? Do you miss Robin Roberts on GMA? I miss her already. Are you tailgating this weekend? Hey… I picked about 300 various peppers from my garden last night… what should I do with those? And why are all my tomatoes suddenly splitting before they ripen? THIS is why Mark Zuckerburg and baby jesus invented Facebook. THIS is how we can all help each other.

Let’s get back to being intelligent people capable of casual and intelligent conversation and the sharing of our everyday lives. Because right now? You’re kind of like that hairy guy with the sandwich board on the side of the road preaching about the end of the world. You aren’t helping your cause and nobody is listening.

**I cannot take credit for this little nugget… it is plagiarized from a friend and I am trying to adopt it as my new mantra. The only problem being that the idiots don’t wear special hats and so they aren’t immediately identifiable. And if you are not someone with a respectable level of intelligence, I will mock you mercilessly. Consider yourself warned. See also… people who said they were moving to Canada because the recent Supreme Court decision upholding the healthcare reform was too much like socialism… I judged you. Harshly. As clearly you were a moron

Published by PaintingChef on 30 Mar 2012


It happened twice and didn’t think a damn thing of it. Come home from work, stop to get the mail and there wasn’t anything there.

“Huh… that’s odd… guess I won’t peruse Anthropologie on the crapper and design a fictional party…moving on…” And that was the end of it.

(Also? SHUT UP. You totally do it too.)

But I should have thought about it. We’ve lived in this house for FOUR YEARS. And I get more crap in the mail than anyone ever should. I’m on EVERY mailing list that exists. There is ALWAYS mail.

And then it started. Patrick went to get the mail one gorgeous Saturday morning while we were in the midst of planning an absolutely wonderful day on a gorgeous morning and our little cocoon of safety and trust exploded.

Sure, when it started with Lowe’s and Radio Shack I could be funny and try and chalk it up to Patrick in a fugue state decided to suddenly shop. But then it was Citibank. Apple. Wal-mart. Over and over. Someone using his name. Birthday. Social Security number. Someone out there who knew all this about my husband.

It wasn’t me. How was that possible? I’M the one who puts it all out there. The oversharer who writes first and thinks later. Why wasn’t it me? Because someone stole our mail. They were at our house. They discarded my Sephora mailers and the Pottery Barn catalogs. Somehow they found what they needed with my husband’s name on it. And they proceeded to try and systematically ruin his good name.

We think we were lucky. We caught it fast. We tried to play detective and we set up a camera to try and catch them coming back. No luck… unless a bumble bee happens to be the culprit.

I had grand plans to try and make this something to laugh about, I really did. But the truth is, it just feels like such a violation. The police are no help. We’ve been told repeatedly to file a report so that there is a documentable trail of this whole mess but nobody will listen. We got a post office box. We are watching our credit reports with eagle eyes.

But mainly I’m just angry. I’m really, really angry.

Published by PaintingChef on 11 Dec 2009

I’m full to the brim with holiday cheer. No. Really.

Dear Postal Customer –

Hi. I know. It’s SO FUCKING INCONVENIENT when someone shows up at the post office before you and proceeds to go about the business they showed up here to do.

I do know the inner eye-rolliness you felt when I stepped up to that counter and announced my intention to send a dozen certified letters. I’ve felt it before too.

And I am SO SORRY that you had to stand there in your pajamas at two o’clock in the afternoon with your bed head and your house shoes and the seven pounds of mascara smeared down your cheek and wait for me. Because I had to something for my JOB. Where I WORK. Like a NORMAL PERSON. Who does not come to the post office in their bunny slippers and Winnie the pooh pajama pants in the middle of the afternoon. And by the way sweetie? Those pajama pants are WHITE. So maybe your black underwear with the word SLUT emblazoned across the ass wasn’t the best choice…

While we’re at it… here’s another little tidbit of advice you may want to file away for future reference. There is a big tower of postal supplies in the middle of the room. But that’s all it is. It isn’t a MAGIC SOUNDPROOF tower of ridiculously priced flat rate boxes ($10.95? Really? Because I mailed that box last year for four bucks) and various quasi-festive mailing labels. I can still HEAR YOU. And I heard what you called me… And I ASSURE you that hearing you call me a selfish bitch didn’t exactly light a fire under my ass.

Much love…

The one who stepped on you foot with her pointy, pointy boots.

Published by PaintingChef on 05 Jun 2009

I’ll take a diet coke please. You can set it right here by my Colt .45.

This is not a political blog. This is not a local government or current events blog other than the current state of my uterus, shoe collection and 90210. I don’t really find it necessary to bang you over the head with my personal beliefs because I think they are evident through the way I live my life.


There is a new law in Tennessee that is literally keeping me up at night with amazement and has baffled me so greatly that I am going to quote the former Simian Leader of the Free World Mr. Bush and say this recent piece of legislation has hit me with Shock and Awe.

(This is where I pause for a quick reference Google to make certain that I’m getting the details of this exactly right…and so you can look up Simian and learn that all I meant was homeboy looks like a monkey)

As of July 14th of this year, hand gun permit holders will be able to take their weapons into establishments selling alcoholic beverages.*

(blink… blink…)

To his credit and amidst great controversy, Tennessee Governor Phil Bredesen vetoed this law, calling it an “invitation to disaster” before the Senate overrode his veto.*

Now that the facts are out of the way… can we talk about this? Because I’ve been in my fair share of bars. And you know that phrase “bar fight?” It comes from somewhere. Let’s think about all the situations that arise in a bar that are bad enough without introducing a FIREARM into the mix.

Imagine a bartender who has been told to cut someone off who has CLEARLY had way too much to drink. Now in the past, restaurants and bartenders have been held liable to a degree for the condition in which someone leaves their establishments. But riddle me this? If you are a bartender working for minimum wage plus tips and your manager tells you to cut someone off, a situation that is ALREADY delicate at best, are you going to be willing to piss off that drunk person (and their obviously impaired judgment) at the risk of a hole in your fucking head? Because guess what… he may have a gun now!

Picture the average drunken fraternity boy bar fight. Nobody knows why it started. Maybe it was a girl. Maybe it was some imagined show of disrespect. Who knows or cares, these two guys are too hammered to land a punch any damn way. Hey here’s a thought! For fun and games, let’s add the handgun that daddy bought you for Christmas! It’s okay! You aren’t breaking any rules!

Someone hit on your girlfriend while you were in the bathroom?

Steak overcooked?

Breadbasket take too long?

Server spill a drink on you?

I am truly baffled. What purpose could that firearm possibly serve you in a bar or a restaurant? And I’m not an idiot… I hear the talk about “self-defense” and “protecting my family in the event someone busts in and starts shooting” and those are very real concerns in this day and age. Those things happen. Just like plane crashes, car accidents and house fires. Do you still take airplanes? Do you drive a car? Do you live in a house?

Are you THAT afraid of being somewhere when someone robs it or flips out and goes postal? Because that’s part of life man. As soon as you step foot into that establishment with a gun on your person (and you aren’t a member of law enforcement) you’ve just become part of the problem. If you are that scared, don’t bring a gun with you when you go out for a burger, for the love of god, just order take-out!

* “Senate overrides veto; guns allowed in bars” By Tom Humphrey published online at on June 5, 2009

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