Tuesday’s Gone (and It Took All My Fucks with It)

Tuesday was another of those “today sucks ass” kinda days. And I didn’t wanna talk about it on Tuesday, because I was too worked up about it. But I’m revved up and ready to uncork it now. Oh yeah. Let’s do this thang, chickenwang.

First Up: Neighborzuul

You remember her, don’t you? The crazy woman with the Shrine to Gozer? Yeah, that one. I don’t think I told you that she has her very own pair of Terror Dogs. Only these are yippy little fuckers. You know what I mean by yippy dogs? Those ankle-biting bastards.

Terror_Dogs
Neighborzuul’s dogs look EXACTLY like this. Except they’re shorter. And they have long hair. And they’re white. But other than that, this is an exact likeness.

First of all, there’s a leash law here. But does Neighborzuul give a fuck? No, dears, she does not. And Neighborzuul’s Terror Dogs like to leave little shitbombs on every lawn but their own. I guess that old saying, “don’t shit where you eat” applies to them. Personally, I think Neighborzuul sends them on these shitmissions to do recon on all of us. So she can steal our souls and our geraniums.

And those little sumbitches bark incessantly. But I don’t really know what’s worse: them or her. See, because they aren’t fenced or leashed, Neighborzuul is in constant competition with her furry assholes to see who can shriek the loudest. It goes a little somethin’ like this:

Fuzzhole 1: YIP! YIPYIP! YIPYIPYIPYIPYIPYIPYIP! *shits*
Fuzzhole 2: YIPYIPYIPYIP GRRRRRRRRR YIPYIP! *pees*

Neighborzuul: Fuzzhole 1, COME HERE! Fuzzhole 2, COME HERE!

Fuzzhole 1: YIP! YIPYIP! YIPYIPYIPYIPYIPYIPYIP! *pees*
Fuzzhole 2: YIPYIPYIPYIP GRRRRRRRRR YIPYIP! *shits*

Neighborzuul: Fuzzhole 1, COME HERE! Fuzzhole 2, COME HERE! RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW I MEAN IT!

Fuzzhole 1: YIP! YIPYIP! YIPYIPYIPYIPYIPYIPYIP! *shits some more*
Fuzzhole 2: YIPYIPYIPYIP GRRRRRRRRR YIPYIP! *shits some more*

Neighborzuul: Fuzzhole 1, COME HERE! Fuzzhole 2, COME HERE! RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW I MEAN IT! GET BACK HERE! GET INSIDE! GET INSIDE RIGHT NOW! COMEHERECOMEHERECOMEHERE!

The dogs are gonna be run over someday, fo’ real. And not because someone is gunning for them. But because they run in traffic, chase cars, trot down railroad tracks. I’ve seen them as far as a quarter mile from the house. And she just screams and screams at them. And if not that, then she’ll end up sued or some shit because they chase walkers, joggers, runners, parents pushing strollers, mailmen, unicorns, you name it.

So. That brings us to Tuesday morning. I’m listening to music, right? Just on my phone, because who has a stereo anymore? (If you do, I’m moving in.) Gathering my things and preparing to shower. It’s like…6:30ish A.M. I’m tired. I seriously had to drag my ass out of bed.

What.

What the fuck is that.

OH HELL NO.

Y’all I don’t go outside. Especially not in my nightwear. (No, pervs, I don’t wear lingerie to bed. But I’m modest – like really fucking modest – so I don’t go outside even in shorts and a tank top.) But I was so pissed. I could hear those little fuckers screaming over the music.

Are those bastards in my yard? Are they barking at the car?

Are they on my porch? ARE THEY HUMPING MY PORCH?

I flung that door open and barged outside. Those two little sumbitches. The weaker of the two (he’ll be eaten first) ran into the road as soon as I stepped onto the porch. The other one backed up maybe three feet. Then that little fucker dug in and alternately screamed and bared his teeth, growling. So what do I do? Y’all. I was pissed. Wild-eyed and ready to tangle.

I moved toward them. But I stopped when I got to the car.

Me: Go! GO ON NOW!

Fuzzhole 1: Grrr Grrr Yip Yip *pees a little*
Fuzzhole 2: YIPYIPYIPYIP I’LL KILL YOU BITCH YIPYIPYIP! *angershits*

Me: GO SHIT IN YOUR OWN YARD, YOU LITTLE FUCKERS!

Y’all. I am not exactly proud of this. I mean, I won’t be adding it to my resume, okay? But this has been going on for YEARS. I snapped. I was just trying to listen to my music. Is that too much to ask?

Neighborzuul finally emerges from her shrine and begins screaming for them to come back. I glared at her with all I had before wheeling around and going back inside to shower.

You wanna know the best part? My next door neighbor pulled out of his driveway as soon as I walked back onto my porch.

He had been in his car.

Watching.

The whole time.

But somehow. Somehow. Tuesday only got worse from there. How? With glee. Why? Because on Tuesday? I couldn’t drive a fucking nail, much less a car.

If Life is a Highway, I Wrecked. On the Shoulder. Going 0.5 MPH.

I try to keep something quick for breakfast in the house. I take medicine in the mornings that is not supposed to be taken on an empty stomach. So I’ve been keeping these little muffins or granola bars – something, anything. I was out. So, I left early enough to stop at the store on the way to work.

I stopped. I shopped. I departed.

And as I was pulling out of the parking lot, wham. I hit a fucking car.

Did she fly out of nowhere? Nope.

Did she turn out of the opposite parking lot at the same time? Nope.

I’m quite certain she had been on that particular trajectory the whole fucking time. And like a fucking magnet, I was compelled into her driver’s side.

parking_lot
It looked exactly like this.

It wasn’t bad – there’s a scrape along my bumper on the right. But I was shaken up, big time. She smiled at me and waved AND KEPT FUCKING GOING.

Shaking (violently) and crying, I backed up and pulled back into the parking lot, parked the car, killed the ignition and waited. And waited. And waited. But she never came back.

I’m guessing she didn’t have insurance or was in a stolen vehicle or was running from the law for flicking a booger at a police officer. Point is, she didn’t come back.

Last but Certainly not Least: Long Live the Queen (much to my chagrin)

Then I arrive at work to this lovely news: that job the Queen Bitch recently applied for?

She didn’t get it. And commenced to willfully spoiling everyone else’s day.

image

So I’m stuck with her for the foreseeable future.

~

CliffsNotes Version: The clouds parted on Tuesday, and just as I looked up, the universe took a big dump on my face.

Thank Fuck Tuesday’s Gone.

The End.

 

 

News Flash: Time Marches On (aka The Year Ends. Every. Fucking. Year.)

File this bitch under pet peeves or something because damn, this gets under my skin. And I think it’s the kind of thing that is greatly exaggerated and exacerbated by working in an office environment. (P.S. The word is exacerbated. I didn’t say masturbated. I would never say masturbated. Especially not on my blog. I mean who talks about masturbation on their blogs? Perverts, that’s who. So I definitely did not say masturbated. But I digress.)

Gather round, Peoplleaneous, and watch as the the comedy horror unfolds.

~

All the World’s a Clock, and All the Office Workers Stand by in Shock: A Prophetic Glimpse into 2016

Brought to you by: Stephellaneous
Sponsored by: Miller Father Time

(Names changed to protect the innocent idiots.)

Act One: Shock and Awe

Kim in the Kitchen with Tea: Ohmygosh, y’all! Can you BELIEVE it’s January?
Jim in the Kitchen with Kim: I know, right? How did we get here?
Kim in the Kitchen with Tea: I wish I could tell ya! I just can’t believe it’s a whole ‘nother year!

Tim Passing through the Kitchen with Kim and Jim: I don’t think I’ll ever get used to writing 2016, instead of 2015. *grumbles*

Kim in the Kitchen with Tea and Jim and Tim: OH-HIIIII Stephanie! We were just saying how we can’t BELIEVE it’s January! Can you BELIEVE?
Stephanie in the Kitchen with Side-Eye: WHAT?!?! No way, man! Seems like this happened last year, too!!

*Uncomfortable laughter and mild confusion*

Stephanie, Glutton for Punishment that she is, Keeps Going: I mean, seriously! I’ve already been through 35 Januaries! I don’t understand how this keeps happening!

*Like cockroaches, the idiots scatter.*

Stephanie calls after them: Wait! We haven’t even discussed the fact that it’s Monday! Again! What is the deal with Mondays?

Act Two: The Lemmings Accept Defeat

Yvonne in the john: *sighs*
Gloria, the Perpetual Grump: What’s your problem?
Yvonne: It’s already April. Can you BELIEVE it’s already April?
Grumpy Gloria: Yeah, I can believe it. But you think you’ve got it bad? I hate Aprils. It’s just my luck it’s April.
Yvonne: Hm, now that you mention it, Aprils are kinda gloomy with all that rain.
Grumpy Gloria: Story of my life. As if I wasn’t suffering enough.
Stephanie:

April Showers

Act Three: Mass Confusion and Fear

Tony the Brony: Son of a…biscuit!
Betsy the Bewildered: Huh? What happened? What’s wrong? Are you mad at me? Is it raining? Is there any fresh coffee?
Tony the Brony, looking like a deer in headlights: No, wife just texted. Kids get outta school in two weeks.
Betsy the Bewildered: Oh. I don’t understand. Can’t you just put them in summer school or something? Also, you have kids??
Tony the Brony: I don’t know what I’m gonna do! I don’t understand how the school year flies by so fast like it does every fucking year in the history of ever!

Stephanie pours fuel on the fire: Yeah, and it’s gonna be sooooo hot. You know. Because summer. And they’ll want to be inside. All the time.
Tony the Brony: They’re going to eat me alive! I can’t handle this! Hashtag OMG! Hashtag FML! Hashtag I can’t even!
Stephanie the Asshole: Well, there’s always crack.
Tony the Brony: *blinks*
Stephanie: Get them hooked on crack. That way they’ll rob you once instead of slowly milking you for the rest of your life. Then they’ll move on to the street corner and live outside. Problem solved. You won’t even have to feed them.

Tony the Brony: *lays his head down on the desk and whispers* You’re evil.
Betsy the Bewildered: I don’t know what crack is, but that didn’t sound very nice.

tim_optimized
I realize this isn’t an exact fit for the scenario presented, but it’s close enough. Besides, Tim doesn’t give a fuck.

Act Four: The Anticipation is Killing Them (but not fast enough)

Tony the Brony returns: Son of a…biscuit!
Betsy the Bewildered: Huh? What happened? What’s wrong? Are you mad at me? Is it raining? Is there any fresh coffee?
Tony the Brony, looking like a deer in headlights: No, wife just texted. Kids go back to school in two weeks.
Betsy the Bewildered: Oh. I don’t understand. Can’t you just home-school them or something? Also, you have kids??
Tony the Brony: I don’t know what I’m gonna do! I don’t understand how the summer flies by so fast like it does every fucking year in the history of ever! I can’t afford this!

Kim in the Kitchen with Tea: I’m so excited! And I just can’t fight it!
Tony the Brony: What’s up?
Kim in the Kitchen with Tea: The kids go back to school in two weeks! I won’t have to deal with them anymore! And then it’ll be fall! And cooler weather! And pumpkins! And spicy lattes! And! And! Hooray!
Tony the Brony: Hmm. Yeah, I won’t have to deal with mine anymore, either! Now they’re someone else’s problem! And also, here comes No Shave November! Yay!

Stephanie Swoops in to Save the Day: There’s always boarding school.

*two sets of eyes blink back at her*

Stephanie Saving the Day: That way you’d never have to deal with them again!

Act Five: D is for Denial and Doom

Whiny Wendy: I’m so depressed. I can’t believe the year is almost gone. It’s already November. How is it November? Where did it come from?
Virulent Vicky: Well at least you don’t have to six kids to buy presents for.

Stephanie tries to be reasonable: You don’t have to buy presents, you know.
*Stephanie is resoundingly ignored.*

Whiny Wendy: But I don’t understand how we got here. It will be 2017 before you know it. How does this happen? I haven’t even gotten used to writing 2016 yet. Hashtag FML.
Virulent Vicky: Well at least you don’t have in-laws and extended family descending upon your house for three weeks. Vultures, all of them. I hate them all. Hashtag FML.

Whiny Wendy: What am I gonna do? I didn’t keep my New Years’ Resolutions for this year! And now I have to make new ones!
Virulent Vicky: Oh who cares. I’ve got it way worse than you. Why does this shit keep happening to me? It’s like everyone is out to get me. It couldn’t possibly get any worse!

Stephanie tries once more: I hear ya. It’s tough living in Sudan.

*two sets of eyes blink back at her*

Whiny Wendy: What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t get it.
Virulent Vicky: It means she’s an asshole. Let’s go. I need to do a passive-aggressive post on Facebook about her and about how much it sucks to be forced to spend $2,000 on Christmas presents.

lucy peanuts
I dedicate this cartoon to all of the aforementioned assholes.

The End.