We received yet another of those stupid holiday letters yesterday. This one from the bimbette wife of a friend. She is such a bimbette that she has alienated my friend from the rest of the group of friends. Yet, she feels the need to send this holiday card with pictures of her two "little peanuts" and tells us "she thinks of us often." Apparently often means when she wants to brag about her kids and her life.
Anyhoo, back to the letter. What is with these things? I don't care that your 5 yo daughter is in the "talented and gifted" section of kindergarten. It's kindergarten. At that age, talented and gifted means coloring within the lines and not soiling yourself. Get over it.
I do not care that your 2 yo son does "wonderfully perfect rolls" in gymnastics class. A) are you training him to be a monkey? and, B) he's a boy in gymnastics class. You are setting him up for a lifetime of beatings.
I do not care that you left your "aesthetic technician" job (ie, manicurist) to be at home. The only time I care about you is when you show your boobs to the group, which, frankly, aren't all that great. But I'm all for a cheap thrill.
And what is with Facebook? Why do people feel the need to tell their "friends" everything? Hey, look, Joan is getting ready to take a crap. Oh boy, Michelle is going to the gym. Whoo f*ckin hoo.
Ladies, explain this cuddling phenomenon to me. Not post-coital, but cuddling for the sake of cuddling. To me that means an arm that is tingly from falling asleep and a major crick in my neck.
Why does my recycling guy feel the need to come by at 6:15 am and loudly dump stuff in his truck? I'm going to find his address and stand outside his home at 3 am some Saturday playing "Taps" badly on a trumpet.
I might have to slap my neighbor for her husband. She said it was "justice" that her husband had to stay home with one of their sick kids the other day. OK, one, you work two days a week by choice. Your husband works his nuts off. Two, your kids are in school all day. Three, STFU!
Rant over. For now.
Anyhoo, back to the letter. What is with these things? I don't care that your 5 yo daughter is in the "talented and gifted" section of kindergarten. It's kindergarten. At that age, talented and gifted means coloring within the lines and not soiling yourself. Get over it.
I do not care that your 2 yo son does "wonderfully perfect rolls" in gymnastics class. A) are you training him to be a monkey? and, B) he's a boy in gymnastics class. You are setting him up for a lifetime of beatings.
I do not care that you left your "aesthetic technician" job (ie, manicurist) to be at home. The only time I care about you is when you show your boobs to the group, which, frankly, aren't all that great. But I'm all for a cheap thrill.
And what is with Facebook? Why do people feel the need to tell their "friends" everything? Hey, look, Joan is getting ready to take a crap. Oh boy, Michelle is going to the gym. Whoo f*ckin hoo.
Ladies, explain this cuddling phenomenon to me. Not post-coital, but cuddling for the sake of cuddling. To me that means an arm that is tingly from falling asleep and a major crick in my neck.
Why does my recycling guy feel the need to come by at 6:15 am and loudly dump stuff in his truck? I'm going to find his address and stand outside his home at 3 am some Saturday playing "Taps" badly on a trumpet.
I might have to slap my neighbor for her husband. She said it was "justice" that her husband had to stay home with one of their sick kids the other day. OK, one, you work two days a week by choice. Your husband works his nuts off. Two, your kids are in school all day. Three, STFU!
Rant over. For now.
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