Bitch Fest #12: Everything Is Not About You

As some of you well know, I am very serious about getting rid of people in my life that emotionally and physically tax me beyond my capacity.  If I somehow feel a person is above my personal threshold, I have to cut them from my life because I no longer have a tolerance for the type of stress I used to carry around.

But what about the assholes in my life I can’t get rid of?  I’m stuck with these people for better or for worse?  Sometimes it’s family members you want to divorce but you can’t because they’re your family and you’ll probably invite more drama in your life by attempting to get rid of them then if you just dealt with them in first place.  What about co-workers?  Oh yeah, it’s very easy to say that I should quit my job and move on, but that is unrealistic.  I can’t quit my job every five minutes whenever someone pisses me off.

Instead, all I can do is have a bitch fest to purge myself of this stress that is weighing me down.

My job is not very demanding.  For the most part, except for the monotony, I like the job.  It’ll do until I start doing what I want to do.  My boss is cool.  My co-workers are decent.  It’s whatever.  But I got this one guy… this grumpy old man that needs a kick in his ass.  I sent him an email to ask him to finish up a task for me.  I recognise that this man is extremely busy.  I don’t put a timeframe on the task.  Whenever he can get to it, but he truly is the only person that accomplish this task.  It’s not even a difficult task, it’s just the fact that he has the knowledge to do what needs to be done.

So instead of a response like, “Sure, I’ll get to it when I can,” or even a non-response, he writes back this nasty ass email about how he is busy, he doesn’t like the format, the information is wrong, blah blah blah.  I wish I could show you the email and then you would be like…. what?  It was way out of left field.  I know we all get stressed sometimes but your co-workers are not who you should kirk out on.  If you are that stressed, take your ass home.  Go get a beer.  Have a cigarette.  Beat your wife.  I don’t know.  I don’t care.  It doesn’t belong at the workplace.  There are plenty of times when I am in a shitty mood.  You know what I do?  I just go home and sit in my room and sulk by myself.  I don’t subject other people to my bitchiness, unless they are the ones that started it.  I don’t bring my home issues to work and I don’t bring my work issues home.  It’s just not the thing to do.

The problem is that this guy is extremely smart.  He is very good at his job.  He has a lot of knowledge, and the truth is that we all need that knowledge.  He cannot horde it to himself.  He needs to impart all that information to all of us so we can all be as good at our jobs as he is.  But he seems to have a fascination that he is the smartest and that everyone should come to him like he is some kind of Daddy Bear.  Well, I have news for you.  I would rather punch you in the face then ask for your help.  I don’t like that shitty ass attitude just because you think and/or know that you’re smarter than everybody else.  That is no reason to treat other people like dirt because whatever is going on in your home life is making you upset.  It’s just ridiculous.

He seems to have this complex and for awhile it was all right, but now it is lame.  This dude is like 60 something years old.  I need him to get a life.

Now I am all annoyed and I hate being at work feeling like this.  There is no reason my blood pressure should be all up.  There is no reason I should be stressed out.  I pride myself on releasing stress in an appropriate manner, but this man has made me come out myself.  If this was anybody else, I would just erase this person out of my life, but I figure I would get fired if I went up to him and punch him in the face he so richly deserves.

And another thing, since I am in a bitchy mood, I need people to follow instructions.  If I ask you to reply in a certain manner, please respond in that manner.  There is a reason I’m asking you to do it, and I even explained to you why I needed you to do that.  It’s not like I just issued some command with no explanation.  But yet, you see the reasons why and you even understand them (or so you say) but yet you insist upon doing your own thing, thus creating more work for everybody involved.

If you want to do what you want to do,  maybe you should be the one to do the work in the first fucking place and then I will just send you my replies however the fuck I want to and mess up all your shit and create stress and drama for you.  Would you appreciate that?  No, you wouldn’t.  I would be wrong and you would be complaining.  How about grant the same courtesy to someone else that you would like to see granted upon you.

That is the fucking problem with people.  Everybody wants to be treated like a fucking prince or princess, but they don’t want to reciprocate.  This is a generation of me, me, me and fuck everybody else.

How about I just punch you in the face?

How about that?

I said that I did not want to make 2011 the year of punching people in the face, but I truly will.  I can easily resort back to my old ways since that is what everybody seems to want.  The more I try to be nice, the more people sleep on me and mistake my attempt to turn over a new leaf as a weakness.  I am trying to be a person that considers other people’s feelings.  I am trying to be a person that is not always angry and unhappy.  I don’t want to cuss at people.  I don’t want to hurt people’s feelings, but obviously this is the only thing I am good at and you seem to like it.

Maybe this is more about your issues than mine.

I’m finished.  Have a nice life.

Bitch Fest #11: I Can Whoop Your Ass, Though

It looks like it’s that time again…

…time for another bitch fest.

As my faithful readers know, I have been actively running since May.  I have taken quite a liking to it and I’ve participated in a multitude of road races.  Since I have improved speed and endurance I am really feeling quite motivated to continue.  I think I may just become a life long runner.  One day, I imagine myself on the cover of Runner’s World.

As my real-life friends know, I am not exactly the slimmest person.  Truth be told, I could stand to lose 10-15 pounds, not simply for vanity reasons but for health reasons.  I do desire to loose this weight but I desire to eat more than anything and I can’t stand depriving myself of things that taste delicious.  In addition to the running, I work out quite frequently to avoid becoming a fat hogbeast but it is unlikely that I will ever be “skinny.”

And I’m okay with that.

Having said all that…

HOW DARE YOU JUDGE ME!!!

Today my job sponsored a Hallowe’en 5K race.  It’s all in good fun.  You come in your costume and you run this race for health and fitness.  Totally up my alley.  I get to work very early this morning and I’m already in my running clothes.  I like to wear leggings because I don’t like wear anything that will wrap around.  I had on leggings, a long t-shirt and a sweatshirt.  Usually, leggings is not office attire but since my job is having this race, people will understand why I have on sports clothes.

I got several strange looks when I came into my office.  I got here at 6 and the race started at 9.  Maybe it was because I was dressed as Antoine Dodson.  Maybe it was because I was super ethnic.  Or maybe it was because fat girl was dressed in active wear.  I could just see the looks that said, “where the hell does she think she’s going?” or “yeah, get your fat ass to the gym immediately.”

Never before have I ever been so aware of myself in such a negative way.  It was awkward after a moment.

One guy made a comment to my face about my attire.  He said, “Oh, we wear sweatshirts to the office now?”  I told him that I was participating in the race and he had this look on his face like, “Yeah, right, your ass ain’t running nowhere except to Krispy Kreme.”

About an hour later, as I was walking through the corridors to the race with my boss.  She is slightly heavier than I am.  We came across one of our military personnel that she knew and I didn’t.  He said, “Are you guys going to the gym?”

His face said, ‘Yeah, please, hurry to the gym immediately.”

My boss told him that we were participating in the race and this jerk actually started laughing.  Laughing.  I am not very sensitive.  A lot of things don’t even faze me.  But I guess it was just at a moment because it really bothered me that he started laughing.  He had this incredulous look on his face that he found it impossible that people like us would be running somewhere.  Why do you people have the idea that you have to be skinny to enjoy sporting activities?  Fat people don’t like sports?  Fat people can’t exercise to get slim?

And I don’t even consider myself fat.  Overweight, yes.  Fat, no.  I guess fat has a negative connotation and you can take that however you want.  I am not sloppy. I don’t huff and puff with every step I take.  I am not constantly shoving fattening gross foods into my mouth, so I do take a little exception at this man’s reaction to us.

Then he says, “I better not catch you walking.”

Walking? That really made me mad.  I know that he was just joking and my boss took it like that as well, so maybe I’m the one being hypersensitive.  But why would you assume that we would be walking?

So just for that, I went out and ran my best 5K time ever:  29:17 so kiss my fat ass.  That’s a smidge over a 9 minute mile.  I just really take exception that one must look a certain way in order to be considered athletic.  I find this to be laughable.  Many of my friends that are slimmer than me cannot outrun me….. because they aren’t athletic.  One friend doesn’t do any exercise at all.  They were lucky enough to be born with excellent genes that allows them to eat whatever they desire and they never gain any weight.  I am not so lucky.  I have to work to maintain this weight, heavy though it is.  They are skinnier, but I am more physically fit.

If we were being chased by wolves, they would get ate up and I would still be running.  Okay, so the likelihood of us being chased by wolves is very slim but still…

I advise you not to sleep on me.  Just because I am healthy sized don’t mean I can’t kick your ass, Mr. Fancy-Suit.  When was the last time you got up and ran anywhere?  Just cuz you’re slim in your fancy suit.  Wii bowling is NOT a sport. Yeah, it is likely the military guy can outrun me because he is a Marine and that is all they do but Fancy-Suit?  Yeah right.  You ain’t shit.

I’m not even upset that I am perceived as fat.  That’s nothing to me.  I think it just bothered me that I could be perceived as lazy and dormant.

I got your lazy and dormant right here.  Come and try me!

Oh yeah, I used to box and take karate, so come on, no,  really, bring it!!!!!!!!

 

All right, all that bitching has calmed me down now.  I think the lesson to be learned here is that you cannot judge a book by its cover.  Yes, sometimes you can just tell when a person is a lazy piece of trash, and sometimes you really can’t.  I’m not one of those fat people trying to advocate a whole world of fat people-ness like the National Acceptable of Fat People (or whatever they are called).  I’m trying to say there’s fat…

….and there’s kicking your ass.

Bitch Fest #10: Go????

It’s that time again:  time for another bitch fest.  This time I’d like to take the opportunity to cuss at all the rude ill-mannered children and their equally rude poorly mannered parents.

Last night, SF and I went to dinner in Silver Spring.  We had ourselves an enjoyable dinner at My Thai at Silver Spring, then we went downstairs to Ben & Jerry’s to gorge on some ice cream.  When we arrived, there was a customer ahead of us, so we hung back a moment, goofing off, laughing and having a good time.

That customer completed our order, so SF and I moved forward to look into the ice cream case to decide which kind of ice cream we wanted.  While we were looking, and I would say we had been looking in the case for approximately 45 seconds when two rude ass children came up in front of us to look into the case.

Now, there is more than enough room for everyone to look in the case, but this particular store has those rope barriers to keep people in a line.  So the kids pretty much jumped in front of us and made it difficult to go around.  SF was trying to find a particular ice cream but because the kids were there, she couldn’t see into the whole case.

I believe it is rude to cuss at children that are not yours.  Well, let me qualify that.  I don’t cuss at small children.  Teenagers will get cussed at.  These kids were about 8 and 10 years old.  They are too young for me to cuss at them so I gave them the nastiest look I could to let them know that they were wrong.  These kids were apparently poorly trained because they just looked at me so blankly.  They didn’t get the impression at all that they were in the wrong.

Then the mother comes up in front of us and just stands there while we were trying to place our order.  So I said to the air, “Damn, I didn’t know it was still 1965.”  SF started laughing but I was dead serious.  In all actuality, I will not say this was about race, it just that this woman and her kids were exceptionally rude and have no home training.

The guy behind the counter gives us our ice cream and now it is time to pay but the rude ass bitch and her snotty ass kids were still standing in the way.  Under normal circumstances I do say, “Please,” “thank you,” and “excuse me,” but when you are purposely in the way–and you fucking know it–you should be the one to say “excuse me,” and move your lame ass out the way.  They just fucking stood there.

So I said, “excuse me,” in the shittiest tone ever.  Then the woman… oh my God… She hugged her kids close to her (like someone was going to snatch their ugly asses) and then she waved her hands and me and said, “GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!” like I was in her way.

Seriously?  Seriously.

I responded, “Go?”

She said, “Well, you’re in the way.”

I try so hard not to flip out at every situation and I will give myself a bronze star for not throwing my ice cream at this woman.  I did not even give her the benefit of a fucking response.  I just went up to the counter and paid for my ice cream and we left out of the store.

What I would have liked to say:

I’m in your way?  Bitch, I was there first, minding my own business, until your ugly kids came and cut in front of us and now we’re in your way?  Why doesn’t anybody have any fucking manners these days?  Why everywhere you go, people are rude and classless?  I just can’t take it anymore.

But I would be wrong if I started cussing at her stank ass kids with kool-aid stains around their mouth (Seriously, who lets their kids out the house like that?).  I would be wrong if I turned around and said something to her with that fucked up scraggly ass over-fried hair.  Then everybody would be looking at me like, “Oh, how rude.”  But I wanted to enjoy my evening.  I didn’t want to get arrested.  And I don’t want two little kids to have to see their mother get bitch slapped in downtown Silver Spring.

/rant

Bitch Fest #9: All the WordPress Themes Suck!

I don’t usually do back-to-back bitch fests, but I blame this one on account that I’m hungry and I’m just looking for something to bitch about.

I would like to change the theme of my wordpress blog, however, all the themes are UGLY.  Whoever keeps creating new themes is just so proud of himself for coming up with something that he thinks people will like.  Yeah, I’m sure people like them, but I don’t!  I’m the one that matters.

Why can’t I have my blog look like the way I want it to look?  I don’t want set header images.  I don’t want set colours.  I want to be able to put whatever widgets on it I want.  Why can’t I do that?

I would like to have a BLACK background.  All black.  Not a black background with a big white square in the middle of it the way I currently have.  All the dark themes with black backgrounds come with lame pre-fixed pictures.  Black letter-head looked nice but what’s with the hideous orange?  I can’t change that!?  Chaos Theory was also nice but I can’t put in a header.  Hemingway doesn’t allow for enough content.  Re-doable Lite has the big ugly red square.  Sunburn, again with the hideous orange font.  They came out with a new one called Structure where supposedly you could go black but what I dislike about this one is that it has the “feature” thing at the top that I don’t like and can’t get rid of it, and then there’s a big white square in the middle where I’m supposed to put my widgets.  I don’t want to put my widgets there.  I WANT THEM ON THE SIDE.

And I hate unnecessary italics and bold print.  Don’t center things if I don’t want them centered.  Stop trying to make things automatic.  I am capable of some design editing.  I don’t need it to be all fancy, I just want the shit to look like how I want it to look.  What’s up with WordPress trying to control everything?  Is WordPress run by Microsoft?  Microsoft is another entity that likes to control every little thing you do, but don’t get me started on that Axis of Evil.  WordPress seems to be more devoted to the blogger who just wants to put up a bunch of pictures, which of course is not blogging. This is Wordpress not Photopress.  If you want to blog about your pictures, go to Flickr or whatever else photo sharing site they have out.  WordPress, can you please actually cater to people who WRITE!?  Writers like to EXPRESS THEMSELVES because have CREATIVE minds and don’t like to CONFORM to same-same bullshit.

Whenever I click through random blogs and see 12 of them with the same Tarski theme, it is irritating.  The theme is ugly to look at and they probably only picked it because they couldn’t make their blog look like how they wanted it.

I do not think I’m asking for too much.  Can I please get an ALL black background, no big dumb white squares in the middle.  Light grey or white font, colour-changeable links, my own custom header and a place to put my widgets on BOTH sides.  That’s all I ask.  I would also like to be able to change the font every now and again, add some life to this thing, but I won’t get greedy.

I’ve been clicking through all these themes over the past few days and maybe I’m just a retarded asshole and don’t know how to operate the themes.  IT SHOULDN’T BE THAT HARD.  It should be moron proof, since obviously I don’t know what I’m doing.  My first journal was on livejournal and I liked livejournal.  Why didn’t I stick with livejournal?  I was able to have my very own header with my very own colours and plain black background and place to put images (like my “currently reading” section).  I don’t know.  Maybe that’s part of the problem.  I change things up for no reason.  I went to blogspot, but I didn’t like blogspot either for precisely the same reason, you can’t modify anything!

And also, what is up with making the tags so prominent?  Nobody wants to read the tags, or at least I don’t.  I want to read content not tags.  So put the tags somewhere down at the bottom in very fine font.  If someone actually wants to read the tags, they can click on it and make it bigger.  I don’t want the tags in my title line.

As a bitch fest, this was pretty weak, but I’m hungry so I don’t have much fuel, just the impetus to start whining about everything in sight.

Oh yeah, why when I go to quick edit to update the categories the tags disappear!!??  Very fucking irritating.  Fix it, IMMEDIATELY!!!!

Bitch Fest #8: Stop Being So Damn Sensitive!

It’s that time again.  Yup, you guessed it.  Time for a bitch fest.

So, you know, I’m really sick of how sensitive everyone in my life is.  Everyone’s feelings are so fucking delicate like they are made of whatever those damn Faberge eggs are made of.  You know what?  Can you grow some thicker skin?  Because every time I open my mouth, believe it or not, I’m not trying to be mean or nasty.  I’m simply just trying to say what’s on my mind.  Everything I say is not a cause for an argument.  It’s not trying to belittle you or make you feel bad.  I’m not out to hurt your feelings.  You know why?  I don’t even care that much to even want to make you feel bad.  Have you ever thought about that!?!?!

Seriously.  It gets so old to have to sit and think of a way to say something when all I need to do is say what I have to say and be done with it.  Why am I carefully wording each text message to you?  Why do I have to sit and write an outline before I can call you?  Why does it take me three hours to write a carefully worded email so you don’t get your fucking panties in a wad?  And then the worst part is, you still get pissed anyway, even when I TOOK THE GODDAMN TIME TO CONSIDER YOUR WACK ASS FEELINGS.

I wanted to call my friend last night to let him know something, but then before I could dial, I had to sit and be like, “Well, he’s probably going to get mad and I don’t feel like an argument right now.  I’m tired.”  But he really needs to know what is going on because whether he gets mad or not, it is still a fact of life and nothing is going to change that.  Dealing with the inevitable argument and cry-baby pouty-face bitch fest afterwards is always an annoyance that I do not need.  I just want to tell you something!  You make it hard to communicate because you have this paranoia about you that everybody is out to get you.  You’re not that damn important!  Sometimes things aren’t that serious.  Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, whatever thought that is on my mind is just a passing thought and not a declaration of war?

Is your life that pitiful that you have to approach everybody with a can of Mace and a pick-axe?  Every time someone says something to you, if it isn’t exactly along your line of thinking, that doesn’t mean THEY DON’T LIKE YOU, or they want to start a fight with you.  It’s called communication.  We don’t have to agree on everything.  That’s what makes the world go ’round, you know.  We don’t have to see eye to eye all the time, but we should be able to talk to one another about our differences without you getting all pissy. If someone says to you, “I was going to tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” that means you’re TOO GODDAMN SENSITIVE and you need to get your mind right.  That means people feel they cannot communicate with you, so they end up either lying to you, hiding things from you or keeping things from you until it’s too late.  Maybe they just avoid you altogether because they don’t feel like dealing with your bitch-ass’ness.  And then you get mad because you didn’t find out in a timely fashion.  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

BECAUSE YOU GET PISSED AND I’M SICK OF DEALING WITH IT.  I just want to be your friend, not go 12 rounds with you every time I have something on my mind.

Your whole life is surrounded in anger and misconception and that is not the way to be.  Sooner or later people stop dealing with you, even on the most basic level, because nobody has time to dance on goddamn eggshells to spare your hypersensitive hemophiliac feelings.  Everything is not a fire.  Everything is not that serious.  If I want to tell you that I don’t like your new poem, I shouldn’t have to concoct the perfect essay just to let you know.  It would be one thing if I came out and said, “Your poem fucking sucks.  You should kill yourself.”  Yeah, you should get mad because that’s just fucking rude.   But if I want to say, “I didn’t really like it,” you shouldn’t try to commit homicide upon hearing that.

This is why I cannot deal with these types of people in my life.  I deal only in honesty and realities.  If I feel I cannot tell you something THAT IS NOT EVEN THAT SERIOUS because you’re going to get off the deep end, or you need a whole month just to be able to respond in a cool, collected manner YOU NEED GODDAMN ANGER MANAGEMENT THERAPY and a class on communication.

Here’s a primer for you:

  • If you ask me to go baby-sit your kids for you, and I say no, that doesn’t mean I think you’re a bad parent.  I will TELL you if you’re a bad parent so don’t just assume that’s what I’m thinking.
  • If you ask me how I feel about gun rights and I start quoting the Second Amendment, that doesn’t mean I want to shoot you.  It just means I believe in the right to bear arms.
  • If you ask me to go on a double date with your best friend and I said no, that doesn’t mean I don’t like your friends.  It means I want to pick my own date and not feel like I’m some woogie old spinster that needs to get set up.
  • If you ask me out on a date and I said no, that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.  It means that I’m not interested or I’m busy or already involved.
  • If I make a suggestion, that doesn’t mean I don’t like your suggestion.  I’m just tossing ideas out there.

And how about this, if you’re not sure what I mean, WHY DON’T YOU JUST FUCKING ASK ME what I mean?  Why is that so fucking hard?  ASK.   If you spent a little less time GETTING FUCKING ANGRY ABOUT EVERY GODDAMN THING, you would have more time to actually LISTEN to what the fuck I’m trying to say.  Everything that comes out my mouth is not in anger or hatred.  EVERYTHING IS NOT ABOUT YOU. I’m sorry that you see it that way.  Maybe you need to look inside yourself and see where all this self-hatred is coming from, because if you got your head out your damn ass you would realise that I don’t even waste time on people that I hate.  What friend of mine do I hate?  None of them because I don’t fucking waste time on people I hate.  I also don’t go around trying to start stuff with my friends.  Sound logical to you?  Well, it should.  If I say you’re a friend, you’re a friend!  So you should automatically know in your head that I’m not saying something to you because I want a war.  You should realise that the words are COMING FROM A FRIEND.  But maybe that’s something that’s going on in YOUR head and not mine.

Stop over-analysing everything I say.  Stop acting like everything is about you, because it isn’t.  In this crazy world, don’t you think my own problems could be about ME!!?!?!  Yeah, think about that while you’re foaming at the mouth with rage over something I’ve said.  Stop being so pissy.  Stop assuming everyone is trying to start something with you.  Stop assuming you’re the target of everything.  The world does not revolve around you.  There are almost seven billion people in the world and sometimes I may be upset, but it ISN’T WITH YOU.  Sometimes I have to do or say things because it’s coming from somewhere else, and if you actually

took

the

fucking

time

to

COMMUNICATE

instead of assuming you would know what the fuck is going on.  Stop goddamn assuming everything.  Wave all those red clouds away from your face and you will see clearly that it isn’t always about you.

I’m done.

Oh yeah, every time I update my Facebook/Twitter it isn’t ABOUT YOU unless I say it is.

Now, I’m really done.

Bitch Fest #7: Screw You, Weatherman!

As anybody will tell you, I simply adore the snow.  One of the added perks of moving into this region had to do with the weather.  All my life I’ve either lived tropical or desert; four seasons and a chilly winter is a major plus to me.  You know, I get so sick of people who live in this area complaining every winter when it snows.

“I hate snow.”

“Oh, my God, it’s snowing.”

“Ugh.  I can’t stand the snow.”

My Facebook and Twitter pages are full of friends who don’t like the inclement weather.  I’m sorry they feel that way, but I pray faithfully every winter for a major snowstorm.  So far, I’ve received two this season and I hope to go for a trifecta.  That one right before Christmas was really top notch.  We need one more like that, and I’ll find this winter to be absolutely perfect.

For these people who do not like the fluffy stuff, I urge them to move to Yuma, AZ.  It doesn’t snow there.  It doesn’t rain.  It doesn’t do anything but be hot 361 days out of the year.  There aren’t even any clouds in the sky to offer mercy from the relentless glare of molten sun burning out your corneas and scorching your flesh.  Those other four days, you might get one little whiff of cloud.  You can either live there, or you can live here.  Deal with it.  Because all the crying isn’t going to make the snow go away, if anything, it’ll make me just pray harder so you can be even more miserable.

My only gripe with the winter weather is that people seem to become automatically incompetent the minute the flakes start falling out of the sky.  The state of Maryland must be run by mildly retarded four year olds.  The weathermen–I’m sorry, meteorologists, or whatever they want to call themselves must be brainless mutants incapable of reading a weather map.

Look, I’m not a scientist, meteorologist, weather person, whatever… But I think I have the basic grasp of l0oking at a weather map.  I understand, if very vaguely, the North Atlantic Current and the jet stream and shit like that.  (Even though my expertise comes from watching disaster movies.)   I have more than a passing interest in the weather; I sometimes sit and watch Weather Channel for hours on end.  When I lived in Florida, it was for hurricane tracking (I’m into that sort of thing), but since I came up here, I pay close attention to the midwest, since whatever happens out there, usually winds up over here.  How come no one else has figured this out yet?

So, I have the Weather Channel desk top thingie on my computer and I look at the weather every single day before I leave the house.  I scrutinise it on Sundays when I pick out my work clothes.  It wouldn’t be a good idea to pick out my most capable looking outfit if they’re expecting 10 inches of snow.  Why doesn’t anybody else do this?  How many of my friends say, “I didn’t know it was going to rain?”  Okay, the weather isn’t going anywhere, people.  It’s been affecting the planet since the Big Bang–I mean, since when God created the Earth.  Why don’t people take this into account?  I find that to be irritating.

Anyway, so I’ve been following this major midwestern storm since earlier this week and I figured, yeah, it looks like it’s headed this way.  But the weatherman said it wasn’t.  Every single day the forecast changed.  First it was 70% chance of snow, then it was 30%, then it went back to 70%.  As of LAST NIGHT, the weatherman said 40%.

FORTY FREAKIN’ PER CENT.

When I looked at the weather map, the snow line was clearly south of me, but knowing what I know about weather… these storm systems always travel north and east.  It is very rare that they should go anywhere but that direction.  The jet stream carries the systems out to sea.  (Didn’t you guys watch The Perfect Storm, duh!)  Since the weather was south of us, it has to come up!  Why didn’t anybody else figure this out?  I have nothing like these people’s experiences and degrees and even I could tell we were going to get more than the “light dusting” the stupid idiotic weatherman said we were going to get.  I knew it, and that’s why I took my lunch break to go and buy groceries and some movies because I figured I was going to be in the house all weekend.

When I went to bed last night, the stupid forecast still said 40%, a possible accumulation of 1 to 2 inches.

Yeah, the fuck right.

EIGHT INCHES OF GODDAMN SNOW.

Not that I”m complaining because I love the snow, I just need these morons to get it together.  You mean to tell me in this great technological age of ours, we are still incapable of predicting the weather less than 24 hours out?  What are all these super computers and satellites and other bullshit for, then?  I didn’t ask for you to tell me what the weather would be May 15, 2029.  I just want to know what the weather will be THIS FREAKIN’ WEEKEND so I could make some plans.  Yes, I did go to the store because I had that feeling, but there were other things I could have done earlier if the weatherman wasn’t a class A moron.

And then after the snow started this morning at 10AM, the forecast changed about six times.  I wondered originally if this was going to be the “light dusting.”  At 2, it was still snowing.  Yeah, light dusting, my ass.  At 4, still snowing.  Six o’clock, still snowing.  Every time I checked the weather for the end, they kept saying, “snow until this hour…” and that hour would pass and then they’d change it again.

Yea, I know you’re going to tell me that it isn’t an accurate science, and I’m sure it isn’t, but can we be a little bit closer than we are right now?

It’s 9PM and it is STILL GODDAMN snowing.  You know what the forecast is saying now?

Snow until 2AM.

Seriously?

I mean, seriously.  What frustrates me about the lack of clear understanding of weather patterns is that the incompetent state in which I live cannot plan well.  I’m told the roads are horrible.  Why?  Because the weatherman said a light dusting.  Why would you need snow plows and salt for a light dusting?  I mean, really.

I just felt like bitching about something because I really haven’t bitched about anything in the past couple of weeks.  I actually like the snow.  Since it’s Saturday, I didn’t need to be anywhere.  I just know it gets on everybody else’s nerves because they hate the snow.  Oh well, too bad for you.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Bitch Fest #6: ARADVJbafdaf;jadf;akjfd!!! Grrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!

Okay, that didn’t make any sense, but I’m kind of irritated.  I guess it must be the moon phase because I sure am pissed about a lot right now.

So, tonight I decide I feel like going out to Ascension or whatever, but first I want to stop by Whitaker’s house because her boys are with her tonight and I haven’t seen them in like 2 weeks.  I baked brownies and I always give half away so I don’t eat the whole box like a big fat pig beast.

I prefer catching 295 at 32 because I don’t actually like riding down 295.  Always too many accidents, too much traffick, people driving too fast on what is really a 2 lane highway.

As I am driving down US1, I noticed that it is completely blocked off heading northbound once you get to the Carmax.  At first I thought it was one of those drunk checkpoints, but I see they are doing construction.  They have detour signs.  So, I follow them like a normal person.

Sign says go left.  I go left.
Sign says go right.  I go right.
Sign says straight ahead.  I keep going straight ahead.

So, you know, I’m not a construction worker or anything.  I’m not like a Department of Transportation expert.  I don’t know anything about laying asphalt or whatever.  But I do know that if you put up detour signs, you probably shouldn’t let the village idiot do it for you.

The sign said go straight ahead, so I went straight ahead.  I’m driving and something just tells me that I really shouldn’t be going this way.  The road was residential, one laned with a lot of street parking making it very tight to pass through.  Then it had like traffick calming humps every five seconds.  It seemed kind of ridiculous.  Who would use a tiny one-lane residential street with traffick calming humps as a detour route to a major US route? 

Who would use a tiny one-lane residential street with traffick calming humps as a detour route that ends in a super small ass cul-de-sac?  The shit just pretty much ended.  I’m sitting there like, where the fuck is the rest of the road?

I was like, hmm, maybe I missed a sign.  Luckily, my car is the size of a crushed matchbox and I was able to turn around on the little ass street without any major problem.  Sure, it took me like six 3-point turns to get out of that bitch, but I didn’t have as many problems as the guy behind me who was driving a big ass F-250, hauling one of those bike racks.  Sorry ’bout your luck.

I try not to start rampaging for no reason, so I purposely went all the way back to the start out of the detour just to make sure I didn’t miss a sign.  Go left.  Go right.  Go straight ahead.  No more signs.  Road ends at the cul-de-sac of some dark residential street that looks like it belongs in the backwoods of Swiss upcountry. 

What kind of brainless mutants do they have out there doing this kind of work?  Because I wasn’t the only one who kept straight.  There was a line of cars piling up on that street stuck because it was so tight with on-street parking that they couldn’t turn around, and you know how people are so stupid they drive right up on your ass, so you can’t back up and it’s like this huge ass clusterfuck of cars clogging up the road.

I could have turned around yet again to go and tell the construction people that they need a sign that says go left instead of keep straight, but that would have been too much like right.  Gas might be cheaper, but it ain’t that goddamn cheap for me to be driving up and down every street in Howard County trying to figure out where I am supposed to go.

If you’re going to close a major road you should probably do it late at night like 2 or 3 in the morning when you don’t have that many cars out.  Then you should also properly label your detour route so you won’t have this huge ass shit-fuck pile up annoying people’s houses.  I’m sure the people who live on that street were like, what the fuck is all this noise?  People live on cul-de-sacs for a reason.  They don’t like traffick and people driving through their neighbourhoods making a whole bunch of noise.

As you can see, I am totally worked up by this. 

Then I go over to Whitaker’s house, enjoying her company and a goddamn bomb goes off in her neighbourhood.  I swear to God it was a bomb.  Or a disrupter grenade.  Or a mortar.  Or some type of heavy artillery.

Military people know this shit.  Not like I’ve been in a war or anything but they make you go through this live round simulation at basic training so you know what everything sounds like so when you hear the shit coming you can stick your head between your knees and kiss your ass good-bye.

We’re sitting there, talking and we hear this distant, but loud BOOM!  I look at her, she looks at me.  She was like… is that a bomb?  I was like… that sounded like a mortar round.  We were both like… no, no, no… You’re not allowed to shoot off rounds like that on Ft Meade because of the proximity of residential areas.  Got to go to APG for that.  So she was like, that’s a door slamming.  Hell no it ain’t no door. 

Five seconds later we hear mad sirens and dogs barking.

Other people heard it too, because you know how people are, everybody was hanging out their doors and windows trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. 

When I left, I did try to be nosy.  I saw some teenagers getting arrested but it was not in conjunction with what we heard.  Then about a minute later I saw a search helicopter.

I know they are declaring a war on drugs and everything, but I didn’t think they’d start shelling neighbourhoods like that.  Damn.  That’s some raw shit.