Dear moron-whom-I-live-with-and-am-currently-pissed-off-with,
This is the list of things I have done around the house today, without so much as an acknowledgment, and certainly without any help.
I got up and cleaned the extractor fan.
I then emptied the dish washer.
And filled it up again.
I cleaned the kitchen surfaces.
I made you a sausage sandwich and a cup of Earl Gray for breakfast.
I cleaned up again.
I tidied away the blankets and re-made the couch.
I made lunch.
I cleaned up all the pots and pans from lunch.
I put the bed linen on to wash.
I put away all the washing that was on the drying rack.
I dried the bed linen.
I re-made the bed.
I put another load of washing on the go.
I emptied all the bins in the bedrooms.
I emptied the kitchen bin.
Meanwhile, I get…
“Baby, look what I’ve done…. I’ve put metatags on the website so we’re number one on Google”.
“That’s good” – I say.
I want to grab you by your frickin ear and haul your arse through the house, and point out everything that I’ve done today. You lazy ass son of a…….
And there’s no point even arguing about it… because all you’ll say is…
“I would have done it. I just would have done it when I wanted to, and not when you wanted me to do it.” – THIS IS MY FU*KING POINT! It wouldn’t get done if I didn’t do it. And I can’t be bothered to ask you to do it, because I’ll have to ask three times anyway, I’ll get ignored, and it won’t get done.
I don’t WANT to do the frickin’ dishes… I don’t ENJOY doing the housework. It’s just one of those unfortunate responsibilities that you get when you get older! So suck it up, and fu*king help me next time! This is NOT how I want to spend my Sunday!
It always happens… especially when it’s time for dessert!
“Will anyone be having dessert, this evening?”
Everyone orders, but one. And you just know…. that when your gorgeous hot fudge cake or delicious white chocolate cheesecake arrives, the-dessertless-one will be licking her lips, keeping her beady eye on your cake, as it is placed in front of you.
“Ooooo, that looks absolutely divine.”
You’re thinking to yourself – “Yeah, too right it does. And it’s MINE! Keep your dirty dessert stealing mitts off my cake!” You try not to make any kind of reply to the statement for fear of encouragement… you pretend to be lost in the in the oblivion of your dessert…. but then you notice something out the corner of your eye.
The-dessertless-one has a little bit of drool hanging from the left side of her mouth! Her eyes are still transfixed on your cake. You know you don’t have long…
Then, the event that you’ve been desperate to not occur, happens.
“Can I just have a little bite? – I’m full, so I didn’t get one for myself. But yours looks so good… “
You swear to God, that the waitress only served one fork with your cake… But the-dessertless-one is welding one also, so where did she get hers from? Where the hell did it come from?! Did she have it in her bag all along?
Before you know it, it’s gone. And the-dessertless-one and you have traded places.
—–
Why don’t the just order their own? Seriously, why do they have to drool over yours and then scavenge before you’ve even finished?
Dear Anti-Gay Marriage Voters,
I’m just going to lay it on the line here – I just don’t get what the problem is. No amount of ‘it’s unnatural’ or ‘it’s wrong’, ‘marriage should be between a man and a woman’ is going to make me understand. Plain and simple; I just don’t see what the problem is.
Why are you against gay marriage? More to the point, why is it even an issue that gets a ‘popular vote?’. It should just be passed as law – end of story. What does it have to do with anyone anyway? If two people love each other and they want to get married, then who are YOU to tell them they can’t? Did you see them petitioning against your ’straight’ marriage? Hell no. Why? Because your marriage has NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYONE ELSE!!!!
Since when did equality become something we put to popular vote anyway? What is with that?
If two gay men get married, or if two lesbians get married – will everyone’s nights sleep get disrupted? Will straight people across the world burst into flames? Seriously, what detrimental effect will it have on any of us?
Have any of you people voting against gay marriage actually met any homosexuals? If you had, if you had bothered to take the time to get to know them (and not just judge them on their sexuality) I’m sure you’d want them to be happy (because I’m sure, that you are not the horrible, bigoted, narrow-minded person your voting suggests that you are) – and if getting married makes them happy, then, seriously, who are you to say they can’t?
WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?
I genuinely want to know WHAT THE HELL THE PROBLEM IS! WHY DOES IT BOTHER YOU SO MUCH, YOU’RE VOTING AGAINST IT?
Do you care anything for equality? Or it is only equality that leaves you ’superior’ or with the ‘upper hand’ you’re interested in?
Kind regards,
Me
“It’s shit.”
“What’s shit?”
“It’s all shit. They’re shit. This is shit. She’s shit. The whole thing is shit.”
“Hummm…..”
“She’s making me compare shit to shit. I have to compare old shit to new shit. This is shit. Shit, now it’s f*cking raining!”
“Shit.”
________________________________________________________________
Okay, so, this wasn’t ’said’ so much, as written…. but I enjoyed it immensely!
“When you find out, lettuce know…”
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“I bet you’re wondering why you took this job now, aren’t you?”
“I’ll reserve comment.”
[Laughs] “Bet it feels like you’ve been here a lot longer than you have.”
“…………..You could say that.”
___________________________________________________________________
“That guy is the most condescending prick in the world. – Or shortened to, Dickhead.”
___________________________________________________________________
“….yep, my number is….[says number]. Oh, no, wait…. that’s my home number!”
[Gets off phone].
“I can see you laughing at me over there you two. I know, I say stupid things sometimes!”
[My colleague says under his breath] “Sometimes?”
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“God, I wish the pub was open. I need a drink.”
“It’s only ten to nine!”
“It’s all a pile of shit.”
“Humm. Going well then.”
___________________________________________________________________
“…it’s not like it’s a degree in…lemme think…. Tourism and Leisure. Anyone could get a degree in that.”
[Silence]
“………..Ooooooooo…..You have a degree in Tourism and Leisure don’t you?”
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Dear escalator stopper,
Why do you need to stop right at the top of the escalators forcing the big burly tattooed fella behind me to nose dive into my back – which in turn sends me flying into you? I can’t understand why you cannot just walk a few steps to get out of the way?
You annoy me so much I want to give you a lecture when I eventually get my balance back and am on solid ground!
Does it not occur to you that there are people behind you?? What goes through your head when you decide it’s a good idea to just stop?! Seriously? MOVE! JUST GET OUT OF THE WAY!
One day, someone will end up falling backwards – AND IT BETTER NOT BE ME!
This is winding me up even more today than usual, because I’m about to head into town – and I just know that you, (in your moronic oblivion) are going to stop right at the top of the escalators. I will not hold back today!
Thanks,
A disgruntled me.
This should have been what my first day of work looked like....
On Monday, I was called by my temping agency to see if I was interested in a role at a pretty large global company. Now, I’ve been unemployed for a few months, so my answer basically went like this…
“Hell, YES!”
The only catch was I had to start the next day (providing of course, I complete all the tests in time and pass them all). Evidently, I did.
So I figure out what trains to catch, (it’s about an hour and a half away by train) print off some maps and make my packed lunch (egg sandwich – classic mistake! – Smelly!!).
The next day (Tuesday), I make my way to work. Everything is going quite well at this point. According to my map, I’m almost there. Terrific!
I see the sign for the company, and follow it. Only, it’s a country lane. I start thinking to myself – ”this is a bit weird, but maybe the entrance is just around the corner”. 10 minutes later I’m still down the country path… but I realise, I’ve managed to walk around 3/4 of the perimeter of the company, and the entrance is NOT on this path. It is in fact, A DEAD END.
I’m now late. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m now panicking. THIS IS NOT THE IMPRESSION I WANTED TO MAKE. I’m sweating, I’m windswept, and now I have to break out into a jog to try and get back to the main road.
So I call the reception, and ask for help. The response from the receptionist was “Sounds like you’ve gone the wrong way”. REALLY?! IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY? WELL THANK YOU VERY MUCH. ASSHOLE. I ask her to let my contact know that I’m running late. “I’m sorry, there’s no record of a John Hall working here”. FANTASTIC.
It is at this precise point, that I want to be sick. Or launch my phone at the bloody crow that is now laughing at my misfortune.
I carry on down the main road, until, low and behold, I can see where I’m meant to be going. I walk down towards where I’m assuming Reception is (I can’t wait to meet the receptionist, just so I can show her just how appreciative I am for her help). As I’m walking in the direction of reception, I pass a booth, but think nothing of it. I carry on walking. It’s only when I hear a man screaming…”Oi! Oi! You can’t just walk through!”… and I get closer, I hear him mutter under his breath, “idiot”. Nice. Real nice.
He has a go at me. How did I not realise it was security?! Anyway, he eventually lets me go.
I get to reception. FINALLY. Now 20 minutes late.
When I get in, I see someone is finding the receptionist equally as helpful. Only, I could really do with out the hold up. 10 minutes later, she eventually gets round to helping me. I once again ask for John Hall. “I can’t find any record of him, I’m sorry. I’ll get someone from HR to come and collect you”.
HR do not know who John is either. AM I EVEN IN THE RIGHT PLACE? WAS IT ALL JUST A DREAM? DO I REALLY HAVE A JOB?
Eventually, she returns, but John is in a meeting until 10.30, and I’ll have to wait in reception until then. So, I get to hear the receptionists holiday story at least 100 times. “This time yesterday, I was still in the sun…. 27 degrees it was!”. Lady, I really can’t deal with listening to your irritating voice anymore!!!
An hour later, John comes to collect me. He’s completely confused as to who I am, and why I’m there. AWESOME. “So, what are you here to do?”. THATS KIND OF WHAT I WAS HOPING YOU WOULD BE TELLING ME! There really is no hope.
This is NOT going well.
John: “So, Donna…. Do you have a computer?”
Me: “Urrrm, as in with me here right now?”
John: “Yeah.”
Me: “Errr, no. I wasn’t told I had to bring my own computer.”
John: “Oh. It might take a few weeks to get you one you see, so it might have been helpful.”
AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!! KILL ME NOW. I can’t go on.
The entire day goes by. And I mean, the entire day. I have no work to do. I have no computer. I sit there for 7 and a half hours. No one speaks to me. The only entertainment I had was watching two men fuss over how to scan a document.
“We need to scan this agreement and send it off to Sue, today. It needs to be a paedophile”.
“Do you mean pdf file?”.
“Oh shit, yeah!”
I can tell, this is going to be a long two weeks working here.
So, basically, I was baby sitting my two nieces the other night. Ones 6, the other is 4. Both girls.
I love my nieces, I do…. but sometimes I wonder if they weren’t made as some genetic joke to see just how much sh*t one person can put up with!
They. Are. Terrors.
To make it worse, the older one is a smart little cookie, and she plays me better than anyone!
They’d both been acting up, running round screaming one minute, then they’d be begging for me to give them something to do because they’re bored the next.
As usual, the peace and tranquility of colouring in lasts all of…. 5 minutes, and before long, they’re squabbling over the blue pen, the green pen… “that’s MY pen!”, “So! I want to use it!”. “But you can’t, because it’s MY PEN“.
So I sent the older one to her room. And she stomped off like some baby elephant, slammed her door and I could hear things being thrashed about and knocked over. I run up stairs and secretly peer through the keyhole (there’s no actual lock on the door!), watching her throw her tantrum.
Then all of a sudden, something occurs to her and she’s no longer throwing stuff about, but actually quite serene. She moves out of sight for a while and about 2 minutes later she opens the door with a face like she’s the Queen of bloody Sheba, and rather coolly presents me with a piece of paper.
I open it and read it. I almost burst into tears. What makes it worse, is the little swine has spelt everything right, so I can’t even have a little chuckle to myself. She turns around, and quietly closes her door, leaving me stood there holding this note:
“Aunty Donna,
I don’t like you very much right now. I think that you are really, really, really STUPID.
Love Kelly.”
Kids, eh.
Dear Pen,
Dear Pen.....
Why is it, that in my moment of need – that vital moment when I need to take down someone’s number, or write down directions – you run dry and abandon me? I know you had ink just a moment ago. But now, you choose to withhold it from me.
Is it because you take offense to my mindless doodles? Do you not like the stars I draw? Or the little hedgehog with the cute little round nose?
Is it because you get dragged around at the bottom of my bag, mingling with the old snotty tissues and the hand full of coppers that have lived in there for months?
Is it because you spent a week stuck down the back of the sofa, and I didn’t notice you were gone?
Is it because I press down too hard on your nib?
Or nibble on your tip?
Is it because you know, that if I wanted to write a letter, I’d go straight to my mistress – The Laptop! Are you jealous, Pen?
Pen, I am sorry for making you feel unloved. Please work for me, now?
Love,
Me.
Dear Pavement Hoggers,
Why is it, that when I’m walking along a busy road, minding my own business, listening to my iPod, (imagining myself suddenly breaking out into song, swinging round a lamp post and doing a Beyoncé style dance) do you rudely cut me up?
I only want to get from A to B. But as you approach, you make absolutely no effort what so ever to move. Why do you have to walk two or three abreast, thus blocking the entire pavement? Could you not maybe just go single file for a second, to allow me to pass? Is your conversation really that important?
Instead, you force me to:
A) Stop my Beyoncé mind-dancing, and Dick Van Dyke lamp post swinging, and slide up against the wall, or
B) Step into the road – which is quite dangerous at times!
So please Pavement Hoggers, next time you see me coming, please let me pass, any maybe one day I really will breakout into song and dance!
Thanks,
Me.
