Today I have received no less than five comments regarding the fact that I am inappropriately garbed for the apparently vicious weather raging outside. All comments stemming from the fact that I wasn’t wearing a coat and for that matter, have worn a coat only once this year.
To which I say – ARE YOU MY MOTHER? NO? SHUT THE FUCK UP.
I like wearing neither shoes nor coats, the latter being bulky and cumbersome and an article of clothing that WILL make you look like a bloated version of that marshmallow thing from Ghostbusters. However, most places of business have that pesky rule about No Shoes No Shirt No Service so shoes are a necessity even though you’re guaranteed to get a blister or corn or weird foot smell from what will inevitably be the prettiest pair in your closet. But there are no such rules regarding coat usage so I say to you again, the person(s) who make it a point in their Very Busy Day to point out my non-coat-ness:
ARE YOU MY MOTHER? NO? SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Besides, it’s not even that cold outside. When the temperature hovers at 38-39 for a daily high, it does not give you license to refer to it as ‘bone cold.’ That temperature is regarded as Chilly But Definitely Bearable. You want to talk about bone cold go build yourself and igloo in whatever that territory is in northern
And I’ve totally just had a douchebag moment because I can’t for the life of me remember what they call their little sectioned off areas.
PRETEND THERE IS A TRANSITION HERE
So I’m quite looking forward to the evening I have planned with myself. First on the list is a bottle of orange juice so that I may mix the gallon and half of vodka that’s been chilling in my freezer for countless months. Not the whole gallon and a half. Probably just like a cup. But I’m excited about getting to open up the new kind I bought with the purple label because I am total suckered in by things that are new! and have snazzy labels. YOUR MARKETING STRATEGY HAS WORKED, MY FRIEND.
Though I kind of take that back. If the marketing strategy had worked I’d remember the NAME of the vodka and not the color of the label.
Upon further review I retract my kudos given to the marketing team of the vodka bottle residing in my freezer with the purple label.
Along with the vodka drinking I’m going to be celebrating the release of season one of Grey’s Anatomy on DVD. Last night I called the video store on my way home and made sure they had a copy before I got out of my car in the rain. They did and I was very happy and I didn’t mind getting out in the rain so much. Light at the end of the tunnel and all that shit. Bleh bleh bleh.
ANOTHER TRANSITION GOES HERE
Today on my lunchbreak I was surrounded by idiots who personalized their license plates to the tune of the following:
The tan
*soooo are you advertising your impulsive nature in regards to jumping in the sack with random males? The fact that you run up charges on your credit card due to impulse buys of a Gucci nature? What? BE MORE SPECIFIC. Because left to my own devices I will just mock you incessantly.
The gold Buick with the plate: RPM 70
*seriously? This is what you want to put on your BUICK? Are you referring to the rotations per minute completed by your tires because in THAT CASE I would agree with you. Your tires probably complete a full circle seventy times a minutes, making your approximate fucking speed somewhere around 2.4 MPH. Thanks, Grandma
The white Corolla in the Target parking lot with the plate: CAT TALK
* yes. This is egg-zactly what you want to advertise TO THE WORLD on the back of your car. I couldn’t have guessed how deep the river of your cat-love ran because I totally didn’t see those I LOVE MY CAT and I’M PROUD TO BE OWNED BY MY CAT stickers on your back window. I bet you get laid all the time.
11 comments:
Fucking ROLLING over here!!!
FYI: they're called provinces and territories. I only know that for certain because FC is a Canadian by birth, and she likes to point stuff like that out whenever I give her shit about our 52nd state north of the 49th parallel.
Personalized plates are for dipshits! Mock away, baby!!
And why, dear girl, would you stop yourself at only 1 cup of vodka for a gallon of OJ. Don't you know that OJ is only there for color? Not that I think vodka needs any, it's quite fine (and tasty!!) in it's natural state.
mmm, vodka n juice. The drink of the gods.
Dude....vodka's not good for ulcer's....trust me. I had a bad ulcer relapse a few months ago. Now I only drink Captain Morgan.
I'm laughing so hard there are tears in my eyes... make the bad man stop!... lolocaust.
When I break down and finally buy that 7-11 I've been dreaming of, I'm going to post the sign, "No shirt, no shoes, free Slurpee!"
I think that's a fair trade: Boobies for Slurpee.
I'm so smrt.
Nunavut. I considered moving there not very long ago. No kidding.
I hate personalized plates and the people who perpetrate them.
And vodka should only be used for the removal of band-aids and fingernail polish. Nasty swill.
I love the Toyota's plate. Basically, said driver admits he/she (likely a she because the car is the modern-day equivalent of a sewing machine, but you never know) is a pussy.
Worse, a pussy who's so self-conscious that she has to toss away a couple of hundred bucks to shout to the world that she's a pussy.
You're funny. Very funny. I'm sorry I wasn't reading you when I lived in my own cubicle. It was brown and beige and surrounded by idiots much like the ones who seem to inhabit your world.
Such fun, these losers can be.
So much more to read here. Where to start...
i love how other peoples irritation can make such a funny read :)
This would have been really funny if the white toyota wasn't mine. Ok just kidding, it is not mine.
You have a gift. You are a tremdous writer. Keep it up. You make us all (well at least me) laugh. Thanks for making my morning better.
Aahhhhh!!! The stupid personalized plates! And I irritate myself for looking at them with my head cocked to the side trying to figure out what the hell they mean!!!
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