Tuesday, July 29, 2008


Why do only women get depressed? It's unfair that a random daily unhappiness seems to be gender biased. It makes me mad.

My husband looks at me as if I am insane when I wake up and say, "I feel sad today." He always asks me why, and lots of days, quite honestly, I don't have an answer. Some days I just feel sad. There is no good reason. Logically, I know it's silly, but emotionally, I can't control it. And men, they just don't seem to get it. My husband has learned to just give me a hug, and occasionally he does say, "it's the hormones." But for the most part, he just tries to steer clear of me for that whole entire day. He's learned it's for the best. Otherwise, he'll say something that he thinks is really funny and clever and I think is really offensive and we wind up in a big fight--you know, like the word, "goodmorning." Sets me off every time. He may not get those sad days, but at least he's learning how to deal with them.

Oh, and did I mention that it also makes me mad when I wake up and feel sad for no reason? Because it does.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008


Think back to when you were in college. Think back to when you had to write term papers and had to pass them to a buddy for editing. Now imagine that your buddy was stupid. Imagine that your buddy has passed you her paper and it is the worst paper you have ever read. And then, imagine that your buddy marks your paper up with her little red pen.

Only, do you really want to take any of her comments seriously since her paper was full of stink? What a useless process! Makes me mad!

Monday, July 21, 2008

Spencer and Heidi

Hopefully, I do not need to explain why Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt make me mad. But just in case...first off, they take up space in my People and my US weekly. This is annoying, because they are not famous for talent, be it either writing or acting or singing. And I could be reading about someone I actually care about rather than reading about why Heidi is stupid enough to marry Spencer when he is clearly a total ass. Which brings me to...Second, Heidi is the worst example of how a woman should behave when confronted with a boyfriend who treats her the way Spencer does. She is not a good role model for girls. And third, why does anyone care about their personal lives and whether or not they are going to get married? Is that all they have to offer by way of contribution to the public? Do they not have anything else interesting to talk about, either than each other and whether or not they are going to be hitched? I DO NOT UNDERSTAND this phenomenon! I imagine someone must care, or they wouldn't get so much face time, but I cannot figure out who those people are! Anyone? Anyone?

Friday, July 18, 2008


I went to Hideaway Pizza last night for dinner. It's not only the best pizza place in Oklahoma, but they have board games for playing while you wait on your food. Only last night, there was no Uno. And Uno is my very favorite. So, that just made me mad. All the great pizza in the world does not make up for the fact that their set of Uno cards was MIA.

Thursday, July 17, 2008


I am horrible at failing. You're probably reading this and thinking, "Heeellllooo, isn't everyone horrible at failing?" And to that, I say, no, not really. Some people are positive in the event of a failure. Some people say, "we'll get them next time!" and work twice as hard and try to overcome the failure. Not me. Some people let it roll off their back, think tomorrow is another day. Again, not me.

Me? I am the kid who, if you didn't want to play my way, just wouldn't play. So, if I can't win, I'm really not all that interested. Which means, when I don't win, I don't want to play anymore. And in my personal life, it's fine, but at work, not so much. It's not like every time I am not successful I can just up and walk out of my job. It's not very responsible, and I would never amass a retirement for my RV excursions in later life.

But I still want to quit every time I fail at work. Because, well, I'm a quitter. And I'm not ashamed. It's not the best quality, but it's not the worst, either. If I can't win or be the super star or at least be close to being the super star, then I'm just not interested anymore.

And when I still have to get up and go to work and I don't want to, it makes me mad.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008


I have a favorite pair of pants. They are black and they are Marc Jacobs and they drape beautifully. I love them. Whenever I can't figure out what to wear in the morning, I grab those and any top, and I know I'll feel good about myself all day.

Only thing is, I've had the pants for four years now. Four beautiful years. And now, they are getting holes in the crotch. I say holes, but they are more like places where my thighs have rubbed together and rubbed the fabric raw. Both sides of the legs where my thighs touch--yep, worn completely through.

So, I have to get rid of the black pants. Or I guess I should get rid of the black pants. But they're still sitting in my closet, because I just can't bear to throw them away, even if they are completely worn through. And they were a fashion item, meaning not a staple, meaning I can't buy them again, EVER. I suppose it's tantamount to your favorite color of lipstick being discontinued--that perfect red that took you 32 tubes worth of tries to find, and now that you have the color that flatters you perfectly, it's being discontinued. Which puts you on the hunt for another perfect color, and in my case, on another hunt for a perfect pair of black pants.

Right now it makes me sad, but I'm quite sure as I wade through the sea of black trousers available and find none that compare to my favorite, worn out pair at home, I'll become mad. In fact, you can count on it.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Stuffed Polar Bear

Two more days of class, and two more days that girl has brought a stuffed polar bear to class! I cannot, for the life of me, understand why she is bringing a stuffed animal. AND THEN she holds onto it for the entire class.

Maybe she has an emotional disorder? Maybe she rides the short bus to school?

She has to be 20. She's a senior in college! And now we know she has more than one stuffed animal--first a dog, and now a polar bear. It's really annoying. Makes me mad.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Stuffed Dog

Some girl showed up for class on Thursday night with a stuffed dog. No joke. A big floppy, stuffed dog, and her boyfriend, who is not only not in our class, but not even an English major. I am not sure if she couldn't separate herself from him for the three hours, or what the deal was. But the dog? I mean, come on. We're in a class for adult people here. Why are you carrying a stuffed dog?

She sat with it in her lap "cuddling" it through the whole class as if she were in the privacy of her own home. Isn't college supposed to be the place where you learn to become an adult?

I'm not sure why, but it made me mad.

Thursday, July 3, 2008


I am never late. Ever. If I am supposed to be at work at 8, I'm there at 7:45. If I have class (which I have recently started up again) and it is at 5:45, then I'm there by 5:30. And so on, and so on...you get the point.

So, when my professor has a rule that every three tardies count as an absence, and four absences count as a fail, I've got no problems. Because unless there is a major emergency, I will be in class and on time. But his strict attitude with the late policy makes me think he's focused on the time.

Now, mind you, this class is three hours long. And we get one ten minute break. And other than that, the professor lectures the entire 3 hours about Chaucer and The Canterbury Tales. It's four nights a week. With all of that in mind, you think he would run out of stuff to say early, but alas, he does not. Instead we sometimes run past the 8:30 time and don't get out until 8:40.

This makes me mad. If I have to be there on time, and I am courteous and I listen to what you have to say, you should be courteous of my time and get done at 8:30. Sure, it's only ten minutes, but let me share with you my schedule for the day.

I get up at 6:45 AM. I get to work where I stay until 5 PM. I drive all the way across town--45 min trip to make it to class just in time where I stay until (apparently) 8:40. Then I have to drive 20 minutes to get home. At that point I have about two hours to work out on my elliptical, get a shower, and do any homework I have. So, 10 minutes is a lot of time to me! I could have taken a shower in that time! Or spent some QT with my husband who I have not seen all week.

The funny thing is (but probably not so funny to him) that I pack all of my books up at 8:30 on the dot and just sit and look at him. I would never have done this when I was 19 and in college, but now I'm 33. And I PAID over $500 to take this class. So, at 8:30, I'm done.

The schedule says 8:30 asshole, and if I'm courteous of your time and show up at 5:45, you best be courteous of my time and shut the hell up when the class is over.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008


My husband HATES Wal-Mart. He hates it because it has a negative impact on small businesses. He hates it because it squeezes the life out of the minimum wage workers it employs. He hates it because it tries to censor what movies, books, and music is sold in the store.

I also hate Wal-Mart, but it is for none of the reasons listed above. Alas, my reasoning is much simpler. I hate Wal-Mart, because it is a haven for white trash. It's like their mother ship is housed within the walls. It amazes me how many WT people I can find inside a Wal-Mart in the middle of the day. Nope, not on a Saturday, but on an actual work day--say, a Wednesday. They're in there with their five snotty nosed kids running amock, pulling shit off shelves, running into people with a basket, and when their kids actually HIT me, the parents look at me like I did something wrong. The people smell. They look like they haven't brushed their hair since 1982. Sometimes, they don't have on shoes. No, really. ADULTS, not kids. THEY DON'T HAVE ON SHOES.

They're everywhere you turn. You can't escape. Call me a snob. I don't care. But give me a city with a Target. You don't see people in a Target who are WT. I don't know why. I have never understood it. I go in a Target, and I see well groomed, well behaved people. Now, I'm not saying every person who shops at Wal-Mart is WT, or that every person who shops at Target isn't. But just for fun, go visit both on a Tuesday afternoon, and you can see for your self. On most days, with most people, this rings true.

I bet if I did a survey on why people shop at Wal-Mart, they'd say because it's cheaper. Actually, I know this is what they would say, because when I tell people I don't shop at Wal-Mart they look at me like I'm crazy, and say, "I get all of my groceries and health/beauty items at Wal-Mart, because it's so much cheaper."

Well, you know what? I'll spend that extra fucking quarter on a tube of toothpaste to shop with people who actually wear shoes when they go out in public. Thank you very much.

On the rare occasion I am forced to go to a Wal-Mart due to our corporate card usage agreements, I leave wanting to punch someone in the face. And I spend all the rest of the day thinking, "that damned Wal-Mart makes me mad."