This used to be a brand-new T-shirt.
Now it's just a sad reminder of how much I love red wine. FULL GLASSES of red wine.
The humongous wad of cotton I have to dig out of my prescription bottle kicks my ass. I have small fingers yet it still takes me a good amount of time to fish it all out. Is there really not an easier way to do this?
Our bathroom at work gets quite a bit of traffic. We have a lot of employees as well and patients who use the same restroom. I always like to think that women are more sensitive to the necessity of having a clean bathroom, but it seems week in and week out, I am proven wrong. I have gone in to use the restroom on several occasions over the last week or two only to find an incomplete flush. I always do the flush double check, that is, checking to ensure that all waste has in fact left the bowl. I guess it is wrong of me to assume that everyone else does the same. Frankly, you must be some sort of disgusting idiot if you don't. For the love of all things holy people, CHECK THE FREAKING BOWL.
I have a fairly basic email address at one of the largest free email providers. I am constantly inundated with email that is meant for someone else but that someone else has entered my email address instead of theirs because either (a) they don't want spam or (b) they are idiots. This has manifested itself in many annoying ways, such ways as random emails to a group of people I've never heard of, to multiple insurance quotes from some comparison website, to subscriptions to e-newsletters.
This latest one took the cake, though: one email received welcoming me to a tax-filing website with "my" username and security question, followed shortly thereafter by a password reminder email with the password right in it. Yep - I was given the login details for someone else's tax return. Naturally, the email came from a no-reply address and had no unsubscribe option. I had to login to this idiot's tax return account (which had financial information already entered in it) and take out my email address from the profile! He's just lucky that I'm not an identity thief. Seriously, how stupid can you be?
(This peeve is from February 4, but Typepad's been having issues)
We had a housewarming party for our new digs on January 28 (1 short week ago). I spent all of January getting the house in order, unpacking and cleaning and made it with a few hours to spare. In seven days, our house has gone back to looking just as messy and disorganised and unpacked as it did before the party. Where did all this stuff come from? Is my attic leaking boxes back into the house through some secret passageway?
Dear Blaugra, love of my life:
When you burst into the TV room and jump on the couch while I'm watching my beloved gun show with important dialogue on the Military Channel, then start bitching at me to change the channel while you are eating extra crunchy pretzels from a crinkly bag, don't act all surprised and hurt when I tell you to just go away. Seriously.
Yours,
SALTY D
Yesterday was terrible. I went by my usual nail salon, where I've been going for pedicures for 15 years. They are gone. No "we've moved" sign, no forwarding address. Their phone number was disconnected. They were simply gone. They were old school. They didn't give you their cell phone numbers or have a website or keep an email list of clients so I don't know how to find them. I was there a month ago and it was business as usual so this must have been sudden and unexpected. And they were THE BEST. And cheap. They only raised their prices once in 15 years, by $1 per service.
Still reeling with shock, I drove to my dentist appointment. Where they informed me I will need dental surgery. AGAIN. My copay would be about $400, but $650 if I want sedation. YES I WANT SEDATION, MOTHER F'ERS!! Who gets a bone graft with no sedation? Not this wimp. So yes, it was a bad day.
Dear Person Who Said She Would Call Me Yesterday,
Now it is today. FYI.
Still waiting,
Unknown Peever
There's an old MadTV skit with Mo Collins playing an older woman who clears her throat A LOT. That is my boss, all day long. It is very annoying.
Yeah, yeah, yeah... I know it's not Friday. Don't you all get your panties in a wad as you look at the Peeves of Yore on a Monday. It's my fault, people. So, sue me. For those of you who can handle a bit of change for the week, please enjoy my Peeves of Yore Friday, on Monday...
It has been unseasonably warm the past few days here. While I shouldn't complain about my floor to ceiling windows (and door) to the outside world, I do have a major gripe. It gets hotter than the devil's undies up in this mug during the day. I can't wait until mid-August when it's so hot the meth heads are feigning for ice. Complaining about the nice weather in February seems a bit dramatic, I know. Which is a great lead into my weekly PoY introduction...
Drama, drama, drama. Do you know friends or acquaintances who thrive and feign and scrape their claws as they pretend to fall off of a cliff, all in an effort to always be in a state of drama and/or chaos? I don't know about you, but I just can't deal with that monkey business. I'm already busy enough being a (for the most part) normal, contributing member of society. To me, it takes too much time, energy, frowns, furrowing of the brow (resulting in wrinkles), negative thoughts, words, etc... I'm already exhausted just writing about it! Well, as I sit here and contemplate on the past week (oh hell, the past couple of months), I realize that even though I have not been directly involved in the drama of someones bat shit crazy life, I am exhausted from being indirectly involved! Seriously, those who had to deal with it on a daily basis must have aged two-fold. Truth be told, while there are a million things per day that I could peeve about, I'd rather find the humorous side of negativity, than pour a thick layer of constant bat shit crazy chaos on my friends and family. To those of you who may or may not be reading this, who find enjoyment out of spinning out of control...this peeve's for you, sucka! Hey, smile! Because we're all laughing at your silliness...
That being said, I would like to dedicate this weeks PoY to <drum roll> <gong> <snare drum> <cow bell> <Mariah Carey hitting the high note> Oh, sorry, that was probably a wee bit of a chaotic and dramatic introduction to... BIGGEST PEEVE EVER - Crazy people! Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Yahooooooooooooooo(Oops, overboard again?)
Well, well, well... Karla Kay seems to think contracting a VD would be less painful than mosh pitting with a bunch of horned up women wishing and hoping and thinkin' and praying for their chance at being the next in line for marital bliss! You know what? You're right. I'd rather piss my pants from a UTI while someone is kicking me in the FUPA, than go through that hot mess of a "tradition." Single ladies unite!
Looky, looky, it looks like Nursepez has run into one of those "drama queens." Thankfully, now-a-days, if the only interaction with that person is on Facebook or Twitter or Google+ or the other million social media sites they subscribe to so they reach the maximum number of "well wishers," I have one word (thank God, too - what would we do without this word?): DEFRIEND. Or in ancient world terms, "Sayonara, sucka!"
My PoY excerpts have been a bit longer than usual. Nikki reminded me that they can be short, simple, and to the point - no dramatization needed. This one needs no introduction, and is definitely the cherry on a drama filled chaos sandwich (sam-itch *wink).
We've all heard they exist, most of us have experienced an encounter with one, and some of us acutally listen to what they have to say. But, very very few of us actually take action and kick them in the FUPA and tell them to shut the hell up and share the oxygen with the rest of the people on the effing planet. Pretty sure Blaugra has envisioned herself kicking one in the FUPA before. Hell, I wouldn't put it past her to kick, turn around, and run like hell laughing hysterically. I know I have (one can only dream) would.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I do believe we have found our peevery chatty Cathy. That award goes to none other than a former Peever - Putnawa! Seriously, I'm totally with you on the situation in general, but I wanted to kick myself in the FUPA when I got done reading it. I kid, I kid - I'd want to kick Sprint in the FUPA for causing you to be dubbed chatty windbag for the day!
I hope this PoY made you forget that it is Monday. Acutally, I really hope you get done reading this and think, "Hell yes, bitches! It's Frrrriiiiiidaayyyyyyyyy, and i'm out like a boner in sweat pants!" If that's what you thought after reading this, I'm not sorry. I'd actually think that was pretty funny. Sucka! Peace.
I was at a Super Bowl party and a co-worker informed me that both he and his wife were bent out of shape because I did not greet his wife with a hug at the company Christmas party. Several thoughts sprang to mind but the only one I managed to put into words is that's a long time to nurture such a perceived slight. In addition, I am a man. I don't go around hugging people willy nilly. What's more, if that's the kind of thing that you're mad about for months, what other grievances are percolating?
Other thoughts from the Super Bowl:
Today one of my students said, "People who go to college are exposed to different ideas and such." My female students use this phrase at least once a week. It drives me crazy because it makes them sound stupid. To make matters worse, the phrase is nonsensical to me and I don't think they know what it means either. Do they mean to say such as and then fail to elaborate? Do they mean to use the expression such as it is in a shortened way? Or is and such the new yadda yadda yadda? I always ask and I get bland non-answers.
I can't even think about the Burmese python explosion in Florida without getting seriously creeped out. I also wonder what's going to happen if the government declares a bounty on the pythons. No doubt several very strange cottage industries will thrive. Eeeeeuuuuwww.
It's the perfect olfactory representation of "Wet Chain-Smoking Sheepdog with Fondness for Canned Chili."
Someone came to me today and said, "I know you sent off the final answer on something we've all been working on all January, but I'm really confused by what we're doing!"
When I asked why the questions weren't asked during our multiple meetings on the topic, I received several (meaningless) apologies for not bringing this up sooner.
I scheduled a meeting for us and one key person to discuss this further tomorrow.
At some point, either before or after telling me you were confused, you gave your concerns and confusion to the business partner, so now I have another meeting and another confused person to deal with.
Oh, Michaels, Michaels, Michaels. You still carry crochet hooks, but you have stopped stocking crochet thread. A curse upon you for thwarting my doily ambitions!
To the people who are slowly pedaling a stationary recumbent bike while reading back issues of InStyle and Popular Mechanics: you are not working out. You are barely moving.
I don't know what possessed me to spray the cheap aerosol perfumes at the Dollar Store, but now I smell exactly like my grandmother. I always thought it was just old lady aroma.
The other day I saw a newspaper article that quoted Newt Gingrich as saying, "I speak pigeon Spanish."
I don't think anyone speaks pigeon Spanish unless maybe you are talking about the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room.
(Since corrected at the Atlanta news rag, bunch of hacks).
I am still alive and kicking, I did not succumb to the Heps! Woo hoo! Happy Friday, my friends. For those of you who have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, please refer back to last weeks PoY. It's too painful for me to write about again. Moving along...
So, I was reading NY Daily news today and read an article about the show 'Fear Factor.' First of all, I didn't realize that it was back on television. The shit this show put people through for a skimpy $50k prize was the saddest display of desperation I'd ever witnessed. Anyway, it's back on television and I actually threw up in my throat when I read about their latest "stunt." The sickos at Fear Factor have decided that it will be amusing for viewers to watch contestants chug-a-lug Donkey jiz, served up with a side of Donkey piss. Who knows if they'll actually allow the episode to air, but that is so not the point. The point is, people actually did it. They actually drank Donkey population paste! And, for $50k?! I don't believe there is any amount of money in the world that would lure me into that kind of stunt. People are stupid. Stupid, silly, desperate, money whoring people. What will they think of next?
In other stupid people related news... Remember the show Family Feud? Did you know that show is back on the boob tube, also? Well, look what happened this week. Priceless. Yet another fine display of human stupidity - actually it could be a fine display of one really genius intern. I'm hoping for the intern
(hopefully one of mine).
Ladies and gentlemen, for your reading pleasure, this week's PoY will be a mixed bag-o-fun! May it be just as much fun as a barrel of monkeys. If you don't think so, suck it.
I would have told the nurse to go fuck herself if all I heard was "push hard" too, Kayteadee. However, it would have been for a whole different reason. I would be afraid of shitting myself. Then again, it would probably get her to shut the hell up, right? Child birth scares the shit out of me - probably literally.
If you have yet to locate it, Blaugra, I suggest you blame the theft on this crazy Beverly Hills Housewife. As Erin put it, "she's got enough for a third world country of upper lips." She's got a stiff...a stiff upper lip.
The only reason I am posting this, is because it took me over a half hour to actually "get it." The "ah ha" moment came when I was in the ladies room too. I actually said, "Oh! I get it!" The woman in the stall next to me said, "Do you need a tampon?" <Insert totally confused Juice pee racing to hightail it out of that weird situation> SANTALS! Kate the Peon is so clever. Yes, I did stop to wash my hands. But I chose to air dry.
Jen14221, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that I really don't think FULL GLASS OF WINE represents this amazing spill. The mammoth amount of spillage you've got there leads me to believe that you're drinking a bucket-o-wine. My kind of lady!
Enjoy your weekend, my friends! If you get bored, I'm sure there's a place that will have a glass or two full of Donkey spunk for you to play drinking games with! Take pictures, please!
Yes, you twee food blogger, there is a difference between "macaroon" and "macaron." And yes, you've been using the wrong one since the day you became the very first person in the whole world to decide that macarons are OMGthe new cupcakes.
I would sentence you to a lifetime of Velveeta and Oreos, but I fear you'd only turn them into some kind of ironic cobbler. With bacon.
Why on the rare occasions I plan to go out on the town the weather is always crappy?
I know people can't help it, but, when someone sneezes over and over and over again, I really want to punch them in the face. A few minutes ago, I had a nine sneeze stint. About a minute ago, I added five more sneezes. I desperately want to punch myself in the face.
This used to be a brand-new T-shirt.
Now it's just a sad reminder of how much I love red wine. FULL GLASSES of red wine.
I got called for a second interview for a job I applied for. The problem... I picked up the voicemail about it tonight when I got home from work. They want me in there tomorrow at 2. Not going to happen. And why are they incapable of calling my cell phone?
Waiting for the incipient head cold to hit full force, that is. Right now I've got the low-grade fever with accompanying chills, the slight body aches, and the beginning of pain behind the sinuses. Not sick enough to miss work, and not well enough to get much done. Apparently also not well enough to post a Peeve that is actually interesting.
I'm pretty sure I have hepatitis. Yes, you read that right. Hepa-fucking-titis. Just in case you're wondering how in the heck I managed to contract this lovely little thing, let me tell you. So, I totally forgot to renew my vehicle tags on time, so I no longer had the option to do it online. Therefore, I had the pleasure of going downtown to the Treasurer's office to do it in person. So what, right? Wrong. As you make your way to the renewal room you begin to smell something that just seems "off." Now, as soon as you step over the threshold to the renewal room, the smell hits you like a tsunami. The room smells like processed cheese and sweat. And, that is just the room. You add in the people who are occupying this room and you have a potpourri of rank. For example...
The gentleman who sat down next to me smelled of booze and cigarettes. Additionally, he must have a sleeping problem because not only did he yawn, but it was continuous. Yawn after yawn. These weren't quiet little yawns either, they were a big deep breath in, and a dragon sized breath out. Also, there must be a rule that you are NOT allowed to cover your mouth when you yawn, cough, or even hack up a lung. There's more. On top of all of this, he couldn't stop "fanning" his legs in and out. Gross. Between the smells and the symphony of noises, I am absolutely convinced I caught something - like hepatitis. Never again will I forget to renew my registration on time. I promise you that.
So, with out further adieu I have decided to dedicate this PoY to people. People are gross, nasty, raunchy, rank specimens. But, such a great tool for Peeves! Enjoy my friends!
Unfortunately, Erin, Facebook is a cesspool of chuckie talk. I mean, it's too gross and inappropriate to discuss vag's on, like, the actual news. Oh wait...
I have a 4th one, Blaugra. KIM KARDASHIAN. Go away, you nasty rank troll with a whiny voice. Oh, and that little number you were wearing in the porn video you shot with nasty Ray-J...the one you can see when the media uses the video to embarass you(no, I did not see the actual video), it was downright fugly. You're gross. That is all.
I'm right with you, Joanne. However, I just kick them. Do I care if a kid is in it? Hell no. Seriously, ask my boyfriend. I mean, those kid leashes disguised as animal backpacks would be better than a stroller. Park that shit outside in the corral.
You may be missing one, Max. Everyone is insanely DEPRESSING. What a bunch of fucking fun haters on that website! Debbie Downer central. Wow.
I think it's time for Max to grow some balls! Put your foot down, my friend. Show her who wears the hats pants. Personally, I think it makes people look much smarter. A great disguise.
Well, if you don't hear from me again, it's obvious that I have succumb to the Heps. All we can do is hope that I live to see another day. Happy weekend, and stay clean!
It really makes me want to slap a woman when she says, "My husband is babysitting the kids."
Isn't that called being a father?
I can't wrap my head around why a woman would ever say this.
I think it's great you lost a lot of weight, Jennifer Hudson, and you do look fabulous, but come on ... I can't read a magazine or watch an hour of TV without you popping up.
My dad said to me today, "Do you know what epiphany means? I just had an epiphany! Do you understand epiphany?"
Yeah, Dad. I've had an epiphany that you're losing your mind.
Who doesn't look to see if anyone is occupying the bathroom stall before yanking the door-with-the-broken-lock open, only to be greeted by me, pulling up my pants? I hope you got an eyeful, bizzatch. Next time, proceed with caution. We're at the gym so I know you can bend over to check out the feet in the stalls first.
University students wearing Uggs: pick up your damn feet when you walk!
Dear Colleague,
Just because an actual sound doesn't come barreling out of your mouth, I can still smell your rank ass tuna fish sandwich burp. Seriously, who do you think you're fooling? It's tuna fish! You're gross, and I feel sorry for your wife, who...actually, I don't feel sorry for your wife. It was her decision to marry a tuna fish silent burp machine.
Sincerely,
Grossed out Juice
P.S. Fingering the tuna that falls onto your plate from the bread makes me want to throw up. Use a fucking fork, man!
I've had a wardrobe malfunction here at the office, and the only supervisors from whom I could get permission to leave are men. There is no way to deal with this situation in a non-embarrassing way.
I always get the winter doldrums in February. Even though I live in the South, the days are still short and by that time I'm dreaming of sitting my can in the sand in a month or two.
We at The Peevery don't want you to get the blues, so we've got something special planned for February ... starting Feb. 11, we will have at least one peeve per day, up until Feb. 29. Each Peever has been assigned a day, so be watching for your favorite Peever.
That said, we want to hear your peeves also! Email them to me at redsoxfan529@gmail.com by Feb. 3, and your peeves will precede ours, with a reader peeve per day also.
We will all still be peeving throughout the month, don't worry!
While washing dishes I seem to have made the water a little warm. In fact, it's scalding. You would think I would have just added some cool water, but instead I just kept putting my hands in it. Like a moron. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go get some skin grafts.
Today is Friday. Friday, the 13th. Oooo.... No offense, but I just don't get why people make such a big deal out of this Friday the 13th crap? Did you know, in Spanish-speaking countries, Tuesday the 13th is considered a bad luck day? I'm guessing now that I've said something, I'm screwed. I'll get puked on by a baby while I stand in a checkout line. Stuck behind someone who has not entered the modern ages and still writes a check for groceries...after they provide the cashier with 3,000 coupons. Choose a cart that has one wheel that squeals like a baby pig and violently shimmies back and forth, resulting in a very rough ride. Whatever may happen to me, I stand by my opinion that Friday the 13th is a bunch of phooey.
I always considered myself to be somewhat on the "up and up" with technology. I mean, really... if all else fails - Ctrl/Alt/Delete, bitches! Right? Wrong. Through out the past few months I have learned that I don't know shit about technology. How do I know this? Well, the strapping gentleman standing next to me in the NYE picture is, what one would call, a computer genius. Coding, systems, networking, switches, etc... Hello, I have no idea what any of that means. As most of you know, my mind tends to pick up on words and phrases only if I can make something dirty out of it in my little brain. Well, I really didn't feel like paying attention to my conference call yesterday so my mind drifted to how I can better connect myself to my computer genius of a boyfriend. Jackpot! Do you know how many computer terms he uses that sound dirty? I didn't either. But, holy hell, there are a ton. I truly believe this will bring us closer together. Even if I still never understand what he's saying, when I hear these key words, my eyes will light up and he'll totally think I know exactly what he's talking about. Little does he know...
Hard (Drive), Ram, Spreadsheet, Joystick, Load, Core Dump, (External) Floppy, Backdoor, Weblog, Probe, Back Orfice, Log, Unzip, Firmware, NUM LOCK, Plug and Play, (Hot) Sync, my favorite...Dirty Cache. Pretty awesome, don't you agree?
With that said, there really is only category that I could possible dedicate this PoY to. Duh. Technology! Happy Reading...
The reason I am choosing MsChick74's Technology Peeve this week is because of two words used in her post: Donkey. Balls. Ummm...Hilarious.
What kind of Technology Peeves of Yore would it be with out some sort of salute to those insanely techy Asians? Thanks, Peeved Michelle!
My take on it is that they're always hot. Drop it like it's hot, yo.
Best advance in technology. However, you're right Michael...total Peeve killer.
So, I would totally have one more Peeve, however, I some how deleted it and lost everything and had to re-write this whole PoV over again. Therefore, my last PoV for this week is mine. Right now. This very second. I HATE TECHNOLOGY! Ugh...I need a drink.
Have a lovely weekend, my friends!
I pulled a bunch of pictures off my camera onto my computer. But for some reason, my Photoshop Elements does not recognize them. I open a folder and there they are. I open the same folder in Photoshop and they've disappeared.
Dear lady working out next to me at the gym...who I DO NOT KNOW,
It is not appropriate to turn to the person next to you (especially if they are a stranger) and ask, "So, like, do you think it's okay for me to be, like, doing such a strenuous workout when I have a yeast infection? It'll be okay, right?"
How the eff would I know if it will be alright? Do I look like a panelist on the talk show, "The Doctors"? Yeah, I didn't think so. Face forward, and shut your trap, lady. You're gross. Now all I can think about is your cottage cheese issue. Thanks, you ruined my workout. And, my love of cottage cheese.
There's a commercial for the Citi credit card where a woman buys a bunch of stuff to go rock climbing. At the end, she is shown on a tiny piece of the rock, up WAY too high, and the camera pans around her.
I can't even watch this dizzyingly display - I get vertigo just thinking about it.
My boyfriend and I both have Sonic toothbrushes. Though we have separate bathrooms, I put a dot of pink nailpolish on mine so that they wouldn't get mixed up.
Except that this morning, in his 4:45ish am funk, on his first day back on day shift, he grabbed my brush.
I'm grossed out by that and will be putting a new brush head on my toothbrush ASAP. As in, tonight.
I'll willingly kiss the hell out of him, but please oh please don't make me share his toothbrush.
I decided to clear off some of the many DVD's that are hogging shelf space. Step 1: Buy a 1 TB hard drive. Check. Step 2: Download a DVD ripper. Check. I started to rip the DVDs to the hard drive. Holy cow, it takes forever! Like 10-15 minutes for one episode of Rockford, and about 20 minutes for a Columbo. This is a colossal pain in the behind. I thought I would simply load the DVD, push a button, and just like dragging a file in Windows, it would be saved on my hard drive. Yikes. Might have to re-think this plan.
Here's the thing. If I make plans with you, those are the plans.
The negotiation took place days ago. The terms have been agreed upon and are not subject to change with less than 24 hours notice.
OK, emergencies are an exception, but that's it. Illness is included, obviously.
You cannot just call me up in the morning and expect me to be all excited that the plans we made are now changing for no reason whatsoever. I need logic. I need manners.
To paraphrase George Costanza, "We're living in a society here!"
People of Ohio:
The season of winter is upon us. In winter, the white stuff that falls from the sky is snow. It can be slippery. This is not a new weather event for the state of Ohio. Please adjust your driving accordingly. Also, there are days when the sun shines and there is no reason to continue to drive as if we are experiencing blizzard-like conditions.
Related: the passing lane is for passing.
Thank you.
Nursepez
It is January 6th today. Living in the midwest, one expects to be shivering to the bones, snot running downtheir nose, coughing up a lung from the sorest throat imaginable, and seeing your breath freeze right in front of your face the moment a door is cracked. It was 67 degrees outside yesterday. Yes, 67 degrees and sunny, folks. Mother Nature was taunting me yesterday with the weather. It took everything in my power not to run outside campaigning for a competitive game of Red Rover or Dodgeball with my colleagues. I must stay strong, however. If I allow myself to fall into the temptation of loving this weather in January too much, Mother Earth will feel my weakness and punch me in the face with an Arctic Winter.
What shall we focus on today? Eureka! I've got it. I do believe it's been quite a while since I dedicated PoY to something that always gets a laugh (out of me, at least)...Doody! Some people never talk about it, and some (mostly teen girls) swear up and down they never doody. Phooey! Maybe if we talk about it a little more often, people would stop looking at doody talk as something taboo? Even if they don't, and they still get grossed out, all of us peevers and most of the peeve lovers will get a giggle or two out of my doody talk!
Blaugra, I do believe we could use this advertisementfor another purpose. We should cater the message to pretty girls (like the one shown) to prove that, yes, they too, doody!
Personally, Erin, I wholeheartadley believe that a stall needs to be set up with an alarm system. Instead of forcing the victim of running out of "shit tickets"to ass scoot to get more TP, the person who only leaves you a few shit tickets will be tazered or tortured or locked in the bathroom until they resupply the roll.
My advice to you, Unknown Peever... Don't laugh. Don't cough. Don't do anything that may put pressure on the rectal area. Otherwise, you'll have a real situation on your hands.
Joanne, it almost feels like your body is being violated, doesn't it? It's a sneak attack you were definitely not prepared for.
Easy solution, Unknown Peever. Simply add two step before Rinse. Lather, Bend, Spread, Rinse, Repeat. Wa la! Works every time.
And so ends my PoY Doody Diary for the week. Have a good weekend, and don't neglect your rectum!
My three-year old likes to use me as a human tissue. She'll go in for a hug and wipe her nose across my sleeve or pants in the process. With her perpetual winter cold this goes on daily, and between her snot and my other child's spit up I am not a pretty sight. By the time I get to work in the morning I'm already in need of another change of clothes.
At the salon, I was flipping through a "Short Hairstyles" magazine while my stylist was starting to cut my hair. She decided that it was time for me to go really short. I didn't really approve that decision before she started to cut all the hair off, but the outcome was good. I felt very chic and different.
A couple of days later, I went to the grocery store, where I saw this fuddy-duddy old dumpy lady with the SAME HAIRCUT. I mean, she was old, at least 50!
Then I realized that I'm not that far from 50. I hoped I wasn't looking into a mirror. I suddenly didn't feel very chic and different.
I have this new bathroom in my house, and the door was replaced along with everything else. Unfortunately the new door may as well just be a piece of plywood, because I can hear everybody's bathroom business even with the fan running. Every butt explosion. It's delightful.
I'm totally ripping off a former Peever, who recently tweeted: "I HATE vague FB status updates...OH.MY.GOD." [those are her ALL CAPS]
At the same time, one of my Facebook friends posted this as her status: "Well, that's not the news I wanted to hear."
Of course that prompted like 17 comments of people saying "Oh no!" "What's happening?" "Hope you're OK!" "I'll pray for you!"
Really? Maybe the news she didn't want to hear was just about Russell Brand and Katy Perry's break-up, yet that vagueness gets people to pray for her.
To take any alternate route to work, I have to pass over a set of railroad tracks that still are actively in use several times a day. At least once a month, the train is randomly stopped on the tracks. Of course I don't discover this until I'm well into the neighborhood off the main roads which then forces me to back track and get on the freeway which is fuller than normal because nobody can get to the other side of the tracks. It's like someone is telling me not to go to work. I should probably start listening to them.