Rantington

You might be wondering where I am. Or you might not. But you better be, because, dammit, bitches, I'm already insecure enough. I need to believe that you lay awake at night fearing that I'm dead and that's why I haven't blogged in days. Because really, aside from a few of you, how would you ever KNOW if I was dead since no one really knows about this blog. Except my sister CK, but she doesn't have admin rights. I guess Earl might tell you, but sometimes he's stoned. I'm just saying.

The point is I'm not dead and I'm sorry you stayed up all night last night rocking and keening.

Now, as to where I've been, YOU TOTALLY WISH YOU KNEW. Don't you? Because it was awesome! It was THE BEST EVER!

No. It wasn't.

I've got jury duty. Blah, blah, blah all that shit about confidentiality and whatever and so I'm not going to tell you what the case is about because that would be illegal and also wrong and I think we ALL know I'd never do anything illegal or wrong, right? Right.

What I do want to say?

FOR FUCKS SAKE WHY GOD, WHY? Why do I always get next to the guy that looks like he lives under a bridge and smells like he shat himself? Why must he have greasy hair and filthy jeans and FOR THE LOVE OF LITTLE GREEN FROGS WHY must he be the noisiest water drinker ever in the history of the world?

I swear to you that sound you heard? This morning? THAT WAS HIM SWALLOWING.

I know that I'm hyper sensitive to eating and drinking noises. On more than one occasion I have threatened and or actually caused bodily harm to someone for eating loudly. Once? I even DUMPED a guy because he chewed with him mouth open. Oh! Then there was the date I walked out in the middle of because the guy took a drink WHILE he still had food in his mouth! A drink! Of Beer! While his mouth was full of burger! GROOOSSSSSSSS. I shudder just now even thinking about it.

As some sort of cosmic punishment though, I always get stuck next to the loudest drinker on the plane. The loudest chewer in the theater. Every time I turn on the radio if that mutherfucking "Good Day" song by Black Eyed Peas isn't on then there is some fucking annoying ass commercial wherein the announcer slurps a Coke or chomps a Carl's Junior Western Star until I'm inches away from poking out my own ear drums with a pen. A purple pen, because that's the only kind I like.

Was there a point to this post? I'd like to think I started out with one, but at this point I sincerely doubt it because that DAMN BLACKEYED PEAS SONG is on the fucking radio again which only means loud food sounds and people that who repeatedly address me as "Margaret" even though I've CLEARLY stated my name and then get all pissy when I tell them that no, I can't possibly transfer them to the owner of the company because HE DOESN'T NEED ANY FUCKING PRINTER INK THAT'S FUCKING WHY SHITHEAD are bound to follow.

Because the baby Jesus hates me. That's why.