The Friday Bitch – Montage Style

There’s so much I want bitch about. So. Much. So without dragging it out any further, cue Limp Bizkit’s Break Stuff and let the bitching begin!

I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I’ve had a cold for a goddamn month and that’s more than enough. I need to be able to breathe, speak normally and not sneeze every ten seconds. Do they make a freakin’ pill for that? Surely not, but hey, if you’re having some trouble maintaining an erection…your options are virtually endless.

And what the hell is going on with all this stupid winter weather? You’d think it’s wintertime out here. Hey, I don’t worry about some furry bastard rodent living in a library up north for my health. I count on that thing to give me an accurate weather prediction. Poor job Phil! Poor job!

And you know what, I’m trying to be nice. You need to realize that. I’m not some devil incarnate – okay, yes I am – but still. Even the devil has a nice side. Holy shit, relax for two seconds and enjoy my pleasantness. It’s not going to last.

And another thing, why don’t you actually take a second and think about what I’m saying. Realize that I don’t have ulterior motives and I’m not up to no good and that I’m not what you think. Get off that high horse, it makes your ass look big!

And really Verizon, is it necessary to charge my son, an US Infantry Soldier, $250 as a security deposit on his new cell phone plan? Where the fuck is the customer loyalty? That kid’s had his own cell phone under my plan for ten years! You mean to tell me that you can’t give him a little credit from his parents and waive the security fee? You disgust me! My kid’s going to fight for our country and you don’t trust him? Tell you what, you take his rifle and he can sit behind a counter and charge people outrageous fees all day long. You should be ashamed.

And for the love of God, no loud noises around me. I can’t take anymore. No slapping or stomping and pounding the table. I’m shellshocked for Christ’s sake. I’ve got a lot on my mind and I don’t need you making me piss myself with your animated anitics. If I wanted to listen to you, I would have paid attention. No need to jolt me back into the conversation. I didn’t want to be there in the first place.

Oh, and when I cough because I’m at death’s door; don’t ask me if I have a cold. I think the hacking, sniffling and pasty pallor are pretty damn good indications that I won’t live to see the spring thaw. So, Mr. or Ms. Obvious, keep your comments to yourself. Unless you’ve got some kind of goddamn magic elixir, I don’t need to hear from you. Go away.

And to the makers of the coating for my new eye glasses: you suck. I hate this stupid coating. It smears without me touching it. Your coating blows. Right now, I’ve got 50 smears on my lenses. How can this be an improvement? Oh and thanks a bunch for making it so that the only thing that cleans these smears off is the one measly cloth that came in the glass case. That’s really convenient when I’m at work squinting through five layers of grime and the damn cloth is at home. You guys are a piece of work.

I could go on but really, what’s the damn use? No one listens. I bitch and bitch and it does no good. People are going to continue to be dumb. Company’s are going to continue to bend us over. And no amount of wailing is going to take my cold away. So maybe I’ll just live in a cave this weekend. And maybe around sunrise on Monday morning, someone can drag my furry ass out of my cave. And maybe if I see my shadow, I’ll be a happy girl. And then again, maybe not.



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