So today I was sitting with some chick going through some shit that she should have fucking done MONTHS ago and patiently speaking to her in kindergarten English cause that is what you do with fuckers that just cannot understand simple instructions like ‘look at this, comment by this date’ and someone came over and was talking about the wicked storm we had last night.
And I was all ‘what storm’?
And they were all shocked faces and telling me that it was like the storm of the century. And I didn’t hear a damn thing.
Which is kinda ironic or weird or something cause I was up and down all damn night on WEEK TWO of Boo not sleeping begging him to go to fucking sleep already and turn down Blues Clues cause if I hear fucking Mr Salt and Mrs Pepper and their little illegitimate sprog Paprika (I can totally rag on illegitimacy cause all my kids are bastards cause who wants to spring for professional photos of your kids when you can just roll it all into one in the wedding photos and it works out way cheaper) talk about making a fucking banana sundae one more fucking time I am going to put my head through the fucking wall.
AND I heard him going into the family room and playing Footloose.
AND I heard him in the fridge looking for the left over hot dogs.
But a storm? Nup. Nothing. Nada. Must have been comatose on the floor in the hallway or half on the bed or like that one time I fell asleep sitting on the loo…
Anywho, this chick turned to me and was all ‘I am so glad I don’t have your life’
*insert look of utter disdain here*
‘I mean, you have so much to deal with! I couldn’t do it.’
I did the usual ‘oh yes you would, yada yada yada’ but the fucker just kept going and going and then I started getting a twitch in my eye that totally made me look like I was winking and the mail guy was all ‘Hey Kelley, how you doin’?’ and I had to spend the day avoiding eye contact in case someone got the wrong idea and now the twitch has got so bad that I totally look like a pirate which would be kinda awesome under different circumstances.
PS – I didn’t actually say ‘fucking’ to my child. I might have muttered it under my breath but he wouldn’t have heard me over the ‘Bowl! Icecream! Banana! Whipped cream! Sprinkles! Spoon!’ coming from the tv.
PPS – and after she said that I kicked her in the neck with my stiletto
PPS – actually I didn’t. But I totally could have but didn’t because I was wearing a skirt and I am a lady.