In theme with the title of this blog, I felt the reference to Pants was completely applicable and hi-larious. For more information on how twighlight really works, check out THIS. I would like to preface this comic by saying it's awessome and I still love despite secretly watching the Twilight (watching also = owning) and for not-so-secretly refusing to continue to read the captain spazzoid books. I did attempt the "literature" angle of it and could not stand the 13-year-old useless drama slobber that millions of ladies and gay men everywhere called a book. Hate me. C'mon, you know you want to.
Moving on . . . It's 6am. Why on God's green earth am I awake? I don't officially have to be awakee for another two hours. The extra clincher, I was awake at 5am. No one, and no one being me, should be awake at that hour unless it's for something thoroughly awesome like free breeakfast or disneyland. And I understand a portion of my readership may tell me to quit my bitchin', to which I respond that I am not whining to you. I am whining to myself, out loud, in a venue in which you just happen to be present. We good? Cool beans.
So here I was, 5am, sleeping just peachy and all of a sudden my body jolts me awake out of my coma. And it's not like 1am or 2am where if you get woken up you can go back to sleep. No. At 5am, if you're awake for more than half a second then the pee clock kicks in. Your bladder awakens and says must pee now. Damn. So after 15 minutes of agonizing, I attempted to half awakenly stumble to the appropriate location and back again and fall back asleep. No dice. Fumbled again. Then my brain started to think. And on top of it, it was being witty. If my brain is being retarded (and please look up the definition of what "to retard" something actually means before you get on my case about using said word) then that's one thing. I can tell it that it's being stupid and to shut up. But if it's being witty, that's a whole other story. I then have to entertain it's wittyness. And since it's been awhile, I thought I'd put it to good use here.
Yesterday I posted a blog about needing a hug. Well after said blog, the need just grew. Let's see . . . I concluded my work day with a pain in the arse caller. I knew he was going to be a pain in the arse caller from the start, I just knew it. My bad for wanting to be awesome. Any person that calls up and starts off their voice message with "have one of your people look into this for me" rather than "hi, my name is blah blah blah and I'm with blah blah blah and this is my problem", they're gonna be a pain in the arse. It's a fact. Yes your majesty, I'll get right on that for you. Can I have your name please? Oh that's right, you didn't leave one and I have to figure it out through the domain name you told us to check out. That's nice. And then when I finally did call him back with an answer that he disliked, he proceeded to grill me on useless facts that have no relative baring on the actual issue we are disscussing. We talk to lots of people. No, I don't know how many. Why? Because it doesn't matter to you how many! Yes, the word support is sort of funny. Why am I using it? Because we can't support you and I can't tell you tough shit in those terms! Why did it work before and it doesn't now? I'm unsure, but once we hang up I will discuss further with my behind-the-scenes website minions on how to further screw up your site because you're that much of a pain in the arse and we go around on random looking for douche-bag-esque photos for people we really want to have a bad day. That's just how we roll.
So as if that were not enough, it gets worse. Everyone knows that I'm doing some inner reflection, self-help, grow better work on myself right now. That's right, everyone. There was a memo. And in said work, I'm treading this fine line of old habbits versus learning how to establish new habbits with people. That all being said, some of my pet peeves will never change. In fact, two in particular. A) Dishonesty. This seems pretty straight forward. If you decide to be a lying scumbag, that's cool, but get away now. NOW. In all reality, dishonesty is just a peeve because I use to be dishonest and didn't like the person I was because of it and don't want that around me. That's right, I'm fruedingly hating my past self. And B) Inconsideration. This is a biggie for me also, for the same reasons above. Further past-self-disgust. I cannot stand inconsideration. I don't care if you aren't going to do something, just don't tell me you are. I have things to do and I don't care to wait idly by for you to do it. This applies to things like caling me, going out on some pre-determined outing with me, etc. This semi-applies to things like taking out the trash, mowing my lawn, getting the paper. I say semi-applies because part of my disposition is to go do it myself if you you aren't going to. But these things don't hang my life, they are pidly things. I get so frustrated when I'm left hanging. Like I'm some wilty school girl willing the phone to ring. Or if I've rescheduled something to accomodate said plan and it never comes to fruition. Not ok. I make time for what's important to me, so if I've rearranged my schedule for something that has to do with you, that means it is important. Don't boag out on it like a tool. If it's spur of the moment or something radical happens like the zombie apocalypse or your granny is laying like a turtle unable to get up on her bath mat, then by all means, boag out. Boag away! I too would be more concerned with executing cardio and the double tab than our shopping excursion to find the right flip flops. See Zombieland for further reference. And it's so hard to determine when you're in the right or you're being Grumps McGurtch. This fine line between being forgiving and understanding versus a doormat. If you gotta cancel (i.e. something unexpected came up, you overslept, zombies are gnawing on your arm, etc), just let me know. It's pretty simple. I'm potentially being hypocritical as I'm sure there is an instance or five that I'm neglecting to remember in the time since my past life where I have done the above and been inconsiderate. I'm sorrry.
And finally, a third disaster . . . sitting on my coffee table is the screne of my last crime. I've started to drift towards the land of wine-o the last couple weeks. I blame my family. We are all tastefully lushy at times. Not in that obnoxious drunkenly sort of way, but in the we appreciate a good . . . sort of way. Those really close to me, and now you, know that I don't really drink. I'll have a beer or a glass of wine or . . . every once in a blue moon if I'm being social, but beyond that it's not my cup of tea. This is partly because alcoholism runs in my gene pool so rather than tempt fate, I just stay on the other end of the spectrum for safety. Well, I abused a glass of wine last night. I didn't realize it until later and upon that realization, the shame train insued. I thought I grabbed it to relax and fall asleep. And in all fairness, those things did occur. But I later realized I grabbed it because I was frustrated and used it to cope. This is bad for me. Need to cope in other ways. I had wanted to work out yesterday afternoon, but I rescheduled it. (See above paragraph for reasons). And then I became beyond frustrated. So because of all of this, I'm putting myself back on alcohol and sweet tooth restrict. This may seem strange to people, but I do so in order to develope other, better coping behaviors. Otherwise I'll look like a Thanksgiving day parade float. A potentially lushy one. When those good behaviors are re-embedded, then I can reintroduce those things. My brain sounds so rediculously analytical sometimes, geez.
I'm so tempted to take a personal day today. Or at least half of one. I feel ughy, both in the brain and the body. After only one workout my body is craving another one. My tummy has still not recovered from the delicious meat outting from Monday, though I probably didn't help it yesterday. And I feel sort of sluggish. But of course I will go to work. (I'm telling myself such so there is no option). I went to work with a broken leg, you can go in for four hours and trudge your way through it. I think I do better with physical pain than emotional ughyness and tummy ughyness. I'm tempted to go up and soak in a tub and reelax my cares away since I still haven't done so since my cast came off. I'm in sort of an anti-social mood today so I think it'd be nice to shut my phone off, go for a drive, go soak and then come home and do me-stuff tonight. And no tv. I think that's the ticket.
Ya know, I didn't feel that great sunday evening for some reason or another, can't remember, but I remember asking/hoping for a better next day. And I remembered that all it takes is one moment to make you laugh and make you feel better. I'm going to hope for that today. Said moment on monday was brought to me by the city. My front window looks out across the stree to my neighbor's front yard. He has tons of overgrown, not taken care of, shrubbery masking the front of his house (more on that later) so you can't really see that side of his yard or house. I never really thought that much about it until that morning when two young men from the city stopped by and decided to make my morning. I guess they city had had enough of part of the shrubbery interfereing with something in the yard that they needed access to, probably a water emter, and therefore decided that enough was enough. So out walk these two guys, one with large loppers and the other with a plastic bucket. Intriguing I know. And then lopper guy starts going to town and hacking at these bushes willy nilly. Pent up aggression perhaps? I secretly imagined that he had had a fight with his girl that morning over cuddle time and that's why he was so forcefully going about the hacking process. So as he's lopping away, he occassionally pushes reminents out of the way back towards little bucket guy. Bucket guy scoops up said pieces into said bucket. This in itself itsn't all that amusing. That is until he realized his bucket was too small for the hack job. Leave it to a man to try and fit something too big into something too small. Spacially challenged. But bucket guy keeps on keepin' on and attempts to stuff the bucket to the brim with shrubbery. Finally, he realizes he needs to step up his game and decides he needs to crush it down with his foot. That's right, when it does not bend to your will, stamp on it with your boot. That'll work. Or so he thought until his foot got stuck in the bucket. And then I died laughing. Lopper guy is still hacking away and his buddy is walking around with a bucket on his foot. To no avail of course. Finally he gets lopper guy's attention and they both try to get it off. Finally he starts to unwedge and pops his foot free . . . without a shoe of course. The bucket ate his shoe. Amazing. He's hopping around in bucket humiliation and lopper guy starts to crack up. And I die laughing again. it all ended up ok, but for that bried time, nothing else in the world mattered,. How could something compare to that awesomeness? Peanuts I teall you. And a big thank you to my city for making my day. Even now.
And that, ladies and jellyspoons is my morning. For now . . . Love!