The Bitch is Back

Some of my loyal (and mouthy) readers have recently commented on the sentimental nature of my last few entries. No, not the pickle one. The ones regarding my husband and my mother. One commenter who shall not be named (Tara) even referred to my "schmoopiness" when describing my writings. Of course, I think anyone who invents the word "schmoopiness" must be pretty schoompy themselves -- but I am not going to be brought down to the level of name calling. Even though Tara is a notorious slutbag.

Let me assure you, gentle readers, that I have not changed my cold as ice, hard as nails, kitten stomping ways. I'm still mad as hell and not going to take it any more. It's just that now I occasionally like to sit back and have a glass of wine with my husband between rages. Is that so wrong? But, while we're on the subject of my well known rants -- there are a few things I would like to get off my chest...

Why do clothing stores order ten million pairs of size four pants -- and only two or three of each other size? Don't they notice all of the unsold Barbie clothes sitting on their shelves? Is making larger women feel bad more important than making money? Also, why are the larger sizes usually ordered in the most unflattering styles and colors? No, I do not want high waisted magenta jeans with ankle zippers. Didn't want them in '87 -- don't want them now.

Just because you work with someone does not mean they have to talk to you. If on more than one occasion the person in question replies with only one word answers and does not turn away from their computer to talk to you -- get the hint. They do not want to hear your thoughts on Jay Leno's monologue or be asked how their morning is going. They just want you to pretend you don't see them and annoy someone else. Got it? Good.

There should be two lines at the coffee shop -- one for the time wasting bastards who want half-caf, skim, strawberry guava macchiatos and one for those of us who take coffee the way God intended it -- black and bitter. We should not have to wait just because we have common sense.

Adorable animals stories should only be on the news if absolutely nothing is going on anywhere in the world. No spelling bees, no can drives, no nothing. And then a story about the weird lack of news should be aired instead of the latest "oh look at what the kitty did" story. Same goes for kids trying to set inane world records.

I should be able to call into work and tell them my hair looks awful, my face is broken out and I can't find anything that doesn't make me look fat -- and have them take these as legitimate reasons for not going into the office. If they would let me do that just once a year I would be a much happier person. They could think of it as "workplace beautification."

Okay, I think that's it for now. I feel much better. Now I'm going to go skip through a field of wildflowers and sing show tunes... And if any of you have a problem with that -- suck it.