I doubt I could smile and make nice

20 05 2010

I’m supposed to go somewhere and pick something up today but it’s been one of THOSE days.  You know, the ones where even your two cats fussing over a kitty bed make you yell “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LITTLE SONS OF CRACKWHORES FIGHTING ABOUT THIS TIME??? GO LAY SOMEWHERE ELSE – LIKE SOMEWHERE I CAN’T SEE YOU!”

You know, those days when you scream at cats are pretty bad days.

I woke up feeling like a poo salad and got the kids ready for school.  After breakfast, I heard Chickpea loudly cussing at the boys in Spanish.  I don’t speak a lot of different languages, but I know how to cuss in almost all of them.

When I looked at her and said “why did you call E a shit-face?” her eyes got wide and her mouth fell open.  The look of absolute horror was priceless!

Yes, little one, Mommy has the magical power of translation.  I can also see through walls and hear from long distances.

And because this is exactly something I remember getting in trouble for when I was 6 years old just like her, I taught her a few more colorful phrases.  Then, because she IS 6 years old, she turned them into a chant of epic and repetitive dirtiness.  I ended up having to fuss at her for that because it’s not a song I want her teacher to hear.

I would much rather her sing the song I taught her yesterday:

Beans, beans, they’re good for your heart

The more you eat, the more  you fart

Beans, beans, a magical fruit

The more you eat the more you poot

Then comes the drive to school where I almost ran over a lady who was jaywalking through the car rider lane and mentally critiqued the traffic cops who work the crossroads.

I’ve run an emergency visit to the school with allergy meds for the oldest and fussed at the youngest for playing in the trashcan and tried different combos of meds to get my face to stop swelling and hurting.  It’s also Thursday which makes everything suck worse.

I doubt I could drive to this place to get this piece of paper today and be polite.  Or wear deodorant.  Or smile maniacally.  Or chase the youngest across the lobby to the elevators where he’s pushing all the buttons repeatedly.

I’ll probably just spend the time searching the chans for wallpapers.  Of all the things on my dead hard drive that I miss, I miss my wallpaper folder the most.  Fuck.  At least I can hate on the chans and not hurt their feelings – the insolent little wanktards.  See? I fit right in.




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