This is just too much to bare! I can’t take it anymore!

You know what really gets on my nerves?  When companies say something is “new & improved”.  Okay, either it’s new, or it’s improved.  If something’s new it has a great selling point.  I mean, who doesn’t want to be the first on the block to have [insert name of totally awesome new product here].  It means you’re cooler than those idiots next door, what with there perfect marriage, perfect house, kids who made the honor roll while your kid got sent home because he ate too much paste during finals week in his sophomore Chemistry class he’s taking for the third time.  We all know he’s cheating on her, anyway, because she won’t give him head so he gets it from his secretary while he’s away on “business”, so it serves you right that you got this brand spanking new thing.

And then there’s the entire selling point of an “improved” product.  This is where that stupid bitch next door one ups you with her, “Oh, you got it when it first came out?  Well, this one does everything that one did, but faster, easier, it weighs less, has wi-fi, and it walks my dog for me.”  And then you realize why you’ve secretly been planning the bitches murder hoped for her to have a horrific accident.

But new & improved?  That’s just silly.  Or stupid.  I’m going with stupid and idiotic on this one.  Yes, I know idiotic wasn’t one of the options, but since I’m the one writing this shit I can pick whatever I want.  That’s the rules.

Doesn’t the old adage go, “If it aint broke, don’t fix it?”  Well, if it hasn’t been released to the public, how is it broken?  Isn’t that an important part of the product creation process?  Shouldn’t these companies, who want me to spend my hard earned money on their products, have all the kinks worked out before I ever decide to purchase the product?  I mean, if it was broken before it was released, but it got fixed, why would you want to advertise that?  I mean, honestly, you shouldn’t have to improve on something that’s “new”.

Just sayin.

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Grilled cheese, soup, and the Armageddon

Firstly, let me just say that making Kung Pow Chicken with tilapia doesn’t work.

That having been said, I’ve been up since 3am and I’m not too happy about it.  Of course, it could be because I slept for three days.  But I’m a little upset because I have to be to work tonight.  It’s okay, that’s what they make sleeping pills for.  I might not sleep for a few days, though, after the show I watched on The History Channel.

First of all, it’s The History Channel: Why are they playing shows about what may or may not (although it’s most likely going to happen) occur in the future?  A flu pandemic wiped out civilization and the story followed a family as they attempted to survive.  Not ideal for bedtime viewing.  I’m already terrified to be outside when a plane flies overhead, now I’ve got to be terrified of someone destroying the world because they forgot to wash their hands.  Great.

I’m curious how much it costs to build a proper fallout shelter and how many supplies we’d need so the three of us could survive.  Depending upon the reason for the Apocalypse, I don’t think I’d have time to collect my aunt from Missouri to make it four, but it’s always better to be better prepared.

I liked how they neglected to mention the President after he was taken to an undisclosed location on Day 19, though.  What would happen to world leaders during the fallout of the flu/nuclear war/alien invasion/rise of the zombies?

Ok, I just had to throw my soup away because there was dirt in it.  I distinctly remember not including that ingredient when I made it.  I guess someone forgot to wash the vegetables in this prepackaged soup.  Irritating.  But I guess that explains the rather bland, dirty taste of the soup.  It all makes so much sense now.

It’s pouring ass rain and I don’t like it

I used to love rain when I was a kid.  I’d sit and watch it for hours, wishing I could go out and play in it.  Now it’s just an excuse not to go anywhere.  Then again, I lived in Florida as a kid and it rained there everyday, so everyone could drive in it, versus living in Texas where it rains and people think it’s a sign of the apocalypse.

I decided to cook today.  So I made soup.  It’s rather bland, but, meh, I could probably use some bland in my life.  There’s been way too much excitement lately.  But it gives me an excuse to make biscuits.  I had an entire conversation with an insanely hot guy in Austin about biscuits.  It was awesome.

Now I’m trying to figure out what to do with this fake crab.  Why it’s called fake crab I don’t know since it doesn’t have crab in it nor does it even taste like crab.  Meh.

This isn’t anything like the foursquare I played as a kid

So the other night at work (while working on my day off…yes, I beg for your pity. I am totally shameless and I’m proud of that fact) some chick (who has actually passed out in my parking lot in the middle of pulling into a space because she was partying WAY too hard) bought a bag of sour patch kids and flipped out, screaming, “I DON’T WANT THOSE! I DON’T WANT THOSE! NONONONO!” And I was all, what?  So I grab the bag and pick it up and she’s pointing at the glass with the lottery tickets and I was all, “But I’m not trying to sell you lottery tickets” and she’s all, “NONONO! NO WANT! I NO WANT! NOT THOSE! NONONO!” And pointing erratically around me and I’m like, “WHAT DON’T YOU WANT!?” And then she finally, very calmly, says, “That bag is open” as if absolutely nothing that happened had happened at all.  And I’m like, “So you want to get a different candy?” And she was like, “No, just a different bag.  These are open, see?” THEN she finally points to the white powdery stuff on the counter (which happened to be right next to her purse) and I was like, “THAT’S NOT MY COCAINE!!!!!!” And everyone in the store just looked at me like I was nuts because THEY didn’t have to go wake up Pukey McDroolerson in the parking lot by rocking her car back and forth because the door was locked and then someone came in right afterward and asked why they were humping some poor girls car and no wonder she drove off all crazy and then had to completely explain the entire situation to a man in his 80’s who simply winked and was all, “Yeah, she was kinda cute.  I can’t blame you, kid.”  Ok, ew, no, gross.  And why would humping some random persons car be completely normal to an 80 year old man?

And I happened to walk past the living room while my parents were discussing “The Lady” the other night.  Um, okay, what lady?  Did some lady stop by today?  And my dad was all, “No, there’s just been this lady in the house, walking around,” and I was like, huh?  So my mom explains to me that my dad has been seeing this old lady in our house for the past couple of months either just standing by the front door or wandering around the house and it’s totally creeping him out because he thinks his mom who died in 1998 is haunting him and/or coming to take him to the afterlife and I’m all freaked out because anyone who’s seen The Haunting in Connecticut can tell you people only see ghosts when they’re close to death and I REALLY don’t want my dad to die because 1) he’s my dad and B) DO NOT LEAVE ME ALONE WITH MOM FOR SEVERAL YEARS BECAUSE THEN I’LL HAVE TO BE LOCKED AWAY IN A HOME FROM GOING COMPLETELY OFF THE DEEP END AND YES ALL THE YELLING IS NECESSARY HERE!

If you’ve ever lived with your mother past the age of 12 you completely understand where I’m coming from here.

And I realize I haven’t written anything about what I was originally going to write about, hence why the title doesn’t even come close to describing anything in this post.  Eh, you’ll just have to wait for it later.

PS: I did the whole spell check thing and it says A) “some” is not really a word and 2) “lady” is biased language and that I should use “woman” in it’s place, but whenever someone called my mom the “Cleaning Woman” when I was little she’d get all mad and start screaming about how she’s not just a woman, she’s a lady, because “Ladies always tweeze their eyebrows and shave their legs” or something…maybe it was really about putting the pinky up while sipping tea.  I don’t know, but “woman” is highly offensive to my mom and, also, most restrooms are called “men’s/gent

A tail is a tail, people, whether it’s a tail or not!

If you had a 9 inch tail, what’s to keep you from shitting on it?  No, really, how to you not poo on your own tail?  The pictures of people’s tails I’ve seen on Google don’t look like they have a lot of muscles in them and may not be movable.  So, seriously, how do you not poo on it?  And if you do, how can you be sure you get it all off without looking like the idiot in the stall chasing your tail?

Don’t get me wrong, I think people with tails are awesome and would rather have kids with someone who has a tail than not.  I don’t have a fetish, here, it just makes more sense to have a tail than to NOT have a tail.  What creatures don’t have tails?  How many out species don’t have tails as opposed to the species who do have tails?  I feel much less evolved looking at a human who has a tail and then looking at myself and seeing I don’t.  I DON’T HAVE A FETISH!  STOP JUDGING ME!

And don’t look at me like that, I don’t spend hours looking at my own ass in the mirror.  Often…

In other news, I get to go grocery shopping today.  Seeing as I go grocery shopping between 10 am and noon, I’m usually shopping with all the old people and stay at home moms.  I like shopping with mothers.  That way, when I hit on them, I know I’m hitting on a woman who puts out instead of some prude.

Also, no one pooped on the bathroom this week, nor did anyone set the bathroom on fire.  So, all in all, it was pretty uneventful.

Who writes this shit? Oh, wait, I do…

So I found this site for writing prompts since I’m sitting here, completely zombified (I swear, I’m not infected!), and unable to come up with an interesting post when I find the following prompt at this site:

4. A woman walks across the street and is hit by a bus……

I didn’t get any further than that because I almost fell out of the chair laughing.  Who writes this shit?  I mean, honestly, how sick and twisted to you have to be to make a writing prompt about that?  Yeah, sure, I’ll write about a woman getting hit by a bus.  Stupid bitch should have looked both ways.  Didn’t her mother teach her anything?  See, this is what’s wrong with America today.  I blame the schools!

In other news, my dad completely interrupted my “quiet time” to A) apologize for wishing me a good evening when I go to work (it’s okay, I don’t understand it either) and 2) to tell me he wants this for his birthday this year.

Yep.  That’s my dad.  He also asked me to build him this for this past birthday.  Needless to say, it didn’t get built.

Then again, this is my dad, who makes sure to use the John Deere tractor on our 50 sq ft front lawn…in Texas…THERE IS NO GRASS IN TEXAS!

ADD Blogger Alert!

So I woke up one morning and wanted to blog about something and, for the life of me, I couldn’t string two thoughts together to make a fried egg sandwich, so the blog didn’t happen.  Then I went to work, taught my boss how to use Facebook, gave him a 140 character explanation of twitter, went to a friend’s house to look at his bike and make sure he was still treating it okay since he’s previously been abusive to it in the past, and then came home with my head ready to explode with blogging ideas like a zit on a fat man’s ass.

I thought, “Hey, okay, no problem.  I’ll type all my little ideas into a file and save them for when I feel like writing about them or can’t think of anything interested!”  But, alas, now I can’t sleep…so, I’ve got three posts sitting on the back burner as drafts, just waiting to be spit polished and published.  Sadly, though, that’s only the beginning.

So I got the brilliant idea of using the Notes app on my iPhone to write everything down.  Thus far I have 3 separate notes about 4 pages each and haven’t written about any of them.

Also, breakfast is highly overrated.