Published by PaintingChef on 15 Jan 2013 at 12:47 pm
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?

Your homegirl on 15 Jan 2013 at 3:33 pm #
I don’t have to tell you who sent me there. It was a collective effort by the powers that be. Be what? Be trying to get sliced and diced with a razor across the throat, because they BE ( yes I know that’s bad English, bitch) trying to mess with my state of matrimony…. But I be lovin’ you!
Nikki on 15 Jan 2013 at 9:00 pm #
My list would be longer than yours, but it would start with my real estate agent, whose inability to return calls, emails or texts for days (sick, overslept, had heartburn all week, unannounced vacation, illness, son had car accident, death in family — always an excuse) and then more days to even show me the newest awesome house in my price range that just popped up and is EXACTLY what I’ve been looking for, and my bid is either a day or mere hours after they have accepted another bid. Stabby!
Next would be my boyfriend, who lost a house to foreclosure about 4 years ago because he lost his job and sat around stoned, unemployed, and didn’t make a mortgage payment for at least 18 months, so they foreclosed. Somehow that’s the bank’s fault and therefore no one should ever buy a house again, particularly me, so he has no moral or emotional support to lend through this process. When I found out yesterday my bid was turned down in favor of a cash investor, he actually cheered. No sympathy for my heartbreak. Stabby!
That’s just this week so far. And that’s having taken some Xanax and trying yoga for relaxation. I think stabbing would be more cathartic.
Deborah on 15 Jan 2013 at 10:26 pm #
I’m not going to name names or even situations – it would be too revealing, and I value my job. Let’s just say it’s work related, I don’t like violence in humor AT ALL, and I totally get what you’re saying here. My medication method of choice has switched from wine to rum. My kidneys will probably fare worse in the long run, but my blood pressure is better. Choices, you know?
Mary Piero Carey on 16 Jan 2013 at 1:47 pm #
He seriously called you that? It doesn’t occur to him that the person who answers the phone might warn the folks doing the buying that the salesman is a totally disrespectful jerk? *headdesk*