“When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” ~Franklin D. Roosevelt
As children, we’re taught to ‘use our words’. That screaming and throwing ourselves on the floor in a fit of rage, isn’t the answer to our problems. It will not get us what we need and want, but instead we should express ourselves eloquently and be articulate, using the words of the English language.
I’m guessing that the above doesn’t cover the homicidal rage and general pissed off –ness that I’m feeling right now. And all I want to do is scream “FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK” while standing at the top of the Washington Monument. Speaking of the phallus, perhaps tell those who have offended me that they can sit on the top of it and rotate.
Livid cannot even describe how things are right now. That tomorrow might very well be one of the worst days ever and I actually might rather be crushed by a large truck and then well, kicked in the mouth. Given that I’ve used the phrase “kicked in the mouth” about seven times in the past three weeks, then you will realize that I obviously have a hard time with using the English language, for that is the only thing I can think of to describe severe pain.
Usually I go off the deep end, flip my shit and am full of causticity and vitriol. This time? Though I am 79% sure that Jesus Christ hates me and finds me to be a complete waste of His time and talent, I have some sort of semblance of hope. Hope. Oh things suck and I should probably seriously contemplate fleeing the country, I still have hope and will get through this and oh my, look at me being all optimistic even in times of severe, white hot HATE.
In other news, I went out Thursday, Friday and Saturday night. Not just ‘out and kinda tipsy’ but seriously out what with the open bars and the shots of cognac and grand marnier and the awesome flip cup playing and have woken up with a hangover everyday for the past three days. Dizzy hangovers that can only be cured by a giant sized beer at 12:45 on. a. Sunday. The Lord’s Day. And then I went to Hooters and Hooters has curly fries and curly fries makes most everything momentarily better.
12 Comments
Sorry about what’s going on dear, even though I have no idea. I went out every night this weekend to and I played flip cup last night! You’d be proud!
I think sometimes a tantrum is appropriate. But fuckity fuck fuck fuck works, too. Did the boozing help?
I am so with you on the tantrum right now. I am 2 big gin and tonics into it at the moment.
That’s true (about the fries).
I’m hoping you weren’t under that trash truck that tipped over at the 3rd street tunnel this morning. I know you say you’d rather be crushed by a truck, but another kind of truck might be nicer.
Like one carrying Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
Whatever is going on in your life, it sounds awful. I’m sorry to hear it. Does it have any chance of working itself out?
Beer always tastes better on The Lord’s Day. I’ve done a lot of research on this subject so you can trust me.
My goodness… I hope that things have improved since the posting of this entry! Enjoy those curly fries girl, they really are heavenly.
deep breaths, deep breaths.
Good luck tonight.
I am beginning to believe that February is a completely sucky month. Is it over yet?
I love a girl that sings the praises of Hooters
I’m from PG county, MD…not far from you. Hope to pop in again soon.
If I were with you right now I would give you a hug. I’m good at hugs. And then I would hand you a basket of warm chocolate chip cookies (the ONLY thing I can bake), and a bottle of the best Shiraz known to mankind. Hang in there babe.