1. Accidentally stepping on a caterpillar, sending his Day-Glo green guts about a foot from his mangled body. (The little fuckers are taking over my back porch and patio. Be gone, you little bastards.)
2. Dead-heading my flowers. (There's nothing as satisfying as picking up dead things and throwing them in the dirt.)
3. Watching a girl I know get verbally bitch-slapped repeatedly, and not even by me. Sweet stuff, I tell ya.
4. Steve coming home at lunchtime again today. (Seriously dude... Wednesdays and Thursdays are my "alone time". Go away, you son of a bitch. Don't you have something to go shoot at in the woods or something?)
5. The friendly recorded "reminder" call I received from Blockbuster this afternoon. (Hey ass wipes... I returned those movies this morning already. Get a friggin' clue.)
6. Honda calling me. Again. (Assholes, I have two payments left on my car. That's it. Count 'em... two. Total. You'll get your money when I have some to give you. Deal with it, motha fuckers.)
7. A blog I read regularly hasn't been updated in awhile, and it needs to be done soon so I have something new to make fun of the blogger for.
8. The little bitch that rode my ass on the way to my mom's house tonight and then turned off into WalMart. Yeah, you. Listen. You're ugly. So you gunning through yellow lights while running your fingers through your hair and applying lipstick in your review mirror is pointless. You have no hope and are destined to be an old, bitter woman with 8 cats and no husband. You may as well get used to it now.
9. The young couple making out in the ice cream aisle of the grocery store this morning. Listen guys... I was once a
whore young girl in love too. I, too, fucked like a rabbit made love when I was your age. But I didn't do it in the grocery store, ya little pigs. Get a room. (Or go to a dark cemetary like I did.) Jesus.
10. Steve only carrying half of the beer in the basement to the kitchen tonight. Dude, it's Friday. Get your scrawny little ass back down there and get the rest.
11. Sucking up dead bee carcasses with the vacuum hose in Grace's room. (I'm noticing a direct relationship between this one and # 1 and # 2.Apparently, I need therapy (or a bigger vacuum bag...).
12. Letting one rip. I don't care how snooty you are... there's something deeply gratifying about passing good gas.
13. Writing this post to counter Melissa's Daisies in Her Ass post. The world is in balance again. (Don't ever do that again Melissa.)