Archive for the ‘Blog’ Category

Driving idiots

Posted: January 13, 2015 in Blog, Humor, Life, Marriage, Rants, Stories, Women
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So I’m behind this guy in the left lane going 22 in a 35 mph. Bored, I move to the right lane and speed up.

Slow guy (who must have a tiny penis) decides to speed up only to cut me off in my lane. He then slams on his brakes.

I brake hard and go back into the left lane. He speeds up to stay even with me and rolls down his window to give me an unimpressive finger.

He then yells: “WHORE!” out his window.

I don’t blame him. I drive a minivan. If that doesn’t scream I like the sex then
nothing does.


Macaroni and cheese.

Don’t do it.

Later, they will start coughing in their bed while lying flat on their back and you’ll hear the grossest noise ever on the baby monitor, then run upstairs to see your kid lying in a bed of barfy mac and cheese.


I KNOW he chewed it.

If you’re lucky, when you pick up your heaving kid, he will barf it in your hair, too.

I might need therapy now.


Posted: December 23, 2014 in Blog, Humor, Life, Musings, Rants

So my friend told me that the name of my blog is wrong.



Because I don’t write all the time.

“How can you be perpetually irritated and not post anything perpetually, you dumbass?”


Maybe I’m too irritated to bother?

Or lazy.

Or it’s the holiday season and I gotta DO SHIT.

Or maybe it’s because the Prozac is kicking in?

WTF knows.

I DO know that it’s gonna be a green Christmas in my area, and that blows.

I have THE most awesome snow tires in the history of snow tires, and no snow to drive on.



I was thinking today, for no reason really, what would happen if my husband met someone else…I think the conversation would go like this:

Husband: Uh, I’ve met someone.

Me: Oh? Male or female?

Husband: (sputtering) Female, of course, why?

Me: Um, (looks him up and down) no reason…

(See, now I’ve got him all flustered, the ass)

Husband: Well, I did, and I’m leaving.

Me: Ok, does she know that you never change the toilet paper roll or put your dishes away?

Husband: Well, uh…

Me: Oh, does she know how you belch like Godzilla trying to break the sound barrier?

Husband: Well, no.

Me: Oh! Does she know how you snore like a fucking grizzly bear with sleep apnea AND asthma?

Husband: Well, I haven’t exactly slept…

Me: Oooh, here’s a good one, does she know how you like to leave skid marks in your underwear AND the toilet?

Husband: Well…

Me: Shut up, I’m on a roll. How about how you pick your toenails, and then clip them at the dinner table? Or how you like to take off your stinky socks and throw them in other people’s face? Or that you only brush your teeth a few times a week, and you like to fart a lot?

Husband: sinking into the floor

Me: …and scratch your ass in public, and eat with your mouth wide open, and snort really loud, and drool…Does she know that about you?

Husband: (deflated and defeated) No, no she doesn’t…I’m so sorry, I’ve treated you terribly. Can we just forget this whole thing?

Me: (packing) Fuck no, you’re kind of shitty, thanks for reminding me! Have fun with the new girl.

Runs for the hills… (after taking all his credit cards and cash from his wallet as he sits there sobbing).

I think too much.

I understand the importance of sleep, and the fact that my husband needs more than young children. I let him sleep in on weekends, make sure the kids don’t run in and wake him up (unless I’m pissed at him), and give him some time to rest.

I sneak around the room like a cat. I make no sound. I see in the dark. I am one with the void.

Do you think I get the same courtesy?

HELL to the NO.

For some reason my husband can’t manage to keep the kids out of the bedroom when I’m trying to sleep. “Sorry, baby, they just demanded to see you.”

Dude, you are a grown ass man, you can keep preschoolers away for Christ’s sake.

This morning he needed to get up by 5:30 am. I usually make him breakfast and pack his lunch, partly because I like to feel needed, but mostly so he doesn’t spend money getting breakfast AND lunch at a drive through.

He told me to go ahead and stay in bed. I snicker to myself because while, SURE, I can STAY in bed, SLEEPING is not something I will be doing.

So he goes into the bathroom (10 feet away) to shower and while I’m lying there willing myself to go back to sleep he:

1. Drops 587 things

2. Slams the toilet seat down 8.5 times

3. Drops 15 things in the shower

4. Opens the door as wide as possible with all the lights on when he’s done (shining like a fricken lighthouse in my face) AND LEAVES the DOOR OPEN

5. Sits on the bed and rolls his ass around like Goldilocks finding just the right spot just to put on his socks

6. Puts on said socks, sloooowwwly, like he’s putting on a burlesque show

7. Leaves, with lights still on in the bathroom, but not before bumping into the bed 2 times

8. Makes a really loud 17 course gourmet microwave dinner in the kitchen

9. Comes in to kiss me goodbye, and wonders why I’m not sleeping

10. Slams door shut to garage (20 feet away)

He’s lucky he’s cute.





My Mrs. Kravitz-like neighbor called me last night around 7:00 PM.

Neighbor: “Hey, did you see any kids running around my yard in the last hour or two?”

(YOU didn’t? All you do all day long is peep out the window all weird)  I did not say this.   Yet.

Me: No, I was curled in the fetal position on the floor most of the day.

Neighbor: “Oh, haha, well, um… all five of my pumpkins were on my porch at 3:30 PM, and all but one were gone by 6:00 PM. So someone stole them while I was in my family room, about 10 feet away.”

Me: That takes some balls.

Neighbor: “Oh, um, haha, but seriously, who steals Halloween pumpkins on November 5? The weird thing is that they left one. Just one lonely pumpkin.”

Me: Shit, that pumpkin must have felt like I did in 7th grade gym class.

Neighbor: “Always the last one picked?”

Me: No, hollow on the inside.

Neighbor: (silence) “Oh wow! Ok, then, well not sure what happened to the pumpkins, but you, uh, have a good night!”


Me: Put on jacket to steal the remaining pumpkin to add to my collection. God, I love to mess with these people.

Grandma pinches your ear. Hard.

“Ow, Grandma, that kinda hurt.”


Proceeds to pinch ear harder this time around to prove the first one didn’t hurt, NEARLY as bad.

“Yeah, that still hurts, Grandma!”

Grandma: WIMP!


You’re minding your own business while sitting on a stool.

Grandma comes along behind you and smacks your butt really hard.

“Ow, Grandma! That hurt!”

Grandma: That was a love tap! IT DIDN’T HURT! SEE?

Proceeds to smack your butt 117 times harder.

You fall off the stool clutching your behind while whimpering.

Grandma: WUSS!


20 years later, Grandma can’t walk so good and uses a walker with wheels and a seat.

She comes up behind you while you’re making stuffing for Thanksgiving.

Her way.

(It’s always so gross).

She rams her walker into the back of your legs, not once, not twice, but 5 times.

She finally fractures your tibia the long way around and you grasp the counter in pain.


(My dad, the son-in-law, looks at me with understanding, along with my mother who is biting her tongue so hard there’s a bloodpool on the floor.)

Grandma: DAMMIT KID, YOU ARE THE BIGGEST PUSSY ON THE PLAN-….voice stops abruptly, she has a heart attack and dies right there.

Ok, that’s not how it ends…it ends with you lying on the floor in a fetal position while Grandma repeatedly runs you over going in forward AND reverse.