So today was a giant pile of shit for the most part, presumably in keeping with the general idea that Mondays
are a pain in the ass for a lot of people as they come in off the weekend and watch their early day fall apart from the word go.
First rattle out of the box we have the Yorkie
suddenly deciding that our formal living room is her new toilet, so I step in dogshit barefooted as I'm opening the front curtains. I yell at the dog and do the most likely useless reiteration that she's meant to use her potty pads for this kinda thing, as I'm sure she has no idea why
the fuck I'm raising my voice to her. I hopped into the kitchen to get the shit off my foot with a paper towel. I cleaned my foot up and made sure there was nothing else in the room to find later, then took a bleach wipe to my heel in utter disgust. I shouted at the dog again out of petty irritation, then spent a few moments on the interweb checking e-mail and getting a few things ready to mail for Swap A DVD
trades before I headed to the shower to start getting ready to head to lunch with EL
I heard the doorbell ring as I was toweling off afterward, so I figured a UPS
driver had dumped something on the doorstep. I go to check this and I'll be Goddamned
if I didn't step in dog piss on the rug about a foot from here I'd found her turd not an hour earlier. I almost lost my fucking mind folks, wondering inwardly what a stroke might feel like as I again
yelled at her about pottying on her motherfucking pad. I also feel like a heel for yelling at this tiny dog, but for fuck's sake, she's been going to the bathroom in our bathroom at the back of the house for three years now
, so any of this has to be sheer laziness on her part and it's fucking maddening
The wife was getting home in between meetings and errands at this point so I told her why I was yelling as she walked in the door, then left immediately, as I was about to be late to meet EL
. I made my way to the restaurant, only to narrowly avoid being smashed into by some bitch in the parking lot who regarded all the parking lines as mere suggestions as to how she should navigate the area, and it’s almost like a street, so why the hell wouldn’t she be doing 35 in a parking lot, right? Really beginning to feel my irritation with the day, I headed into the restaurant and met EL
, who seemed to also be having a lousy day, so we traded miseries and irritations over some good food.
I hit the post office to drop off my packages, only to have the day continue the kicks to the balls with a line that reached the fucking door as I walked in; I nearly had to nudge some old lady in the back to even get out of the lobby into the room proper because she was too intent on filling out her mailing label and figuring out if sweaters were perishable. I assume it was sweaters that she was mailing, what else do old women like? Fox News
? Their shitty grandchildren? I lost a good 15 minutes here waiting on the one guy working to deal with everyone in line, but thank God
he didn’t let anyone’s grim stares of death rattle him to the point that he sped up his service and risked making a mistake. Slow and steady mails the letter, as the old adage goes…
I returned home, still irrationally pissed off at the Yorkie
, so she took a hint and made herself scarce while I went to the Office
and fiddled around online a bit. I spoke to the wife once she was off the phone, telling her that I was in a lousy mood and that I tend to roll her and the dog into one ball of feelings, so not to be surprised if I was kinda short with both of them this afternoon. This is a dick move, I freely admit, but in my lizard brain I wouldn’t have the irritation of the dog had the wife not introduced her into my life, thus she is equally responsible for the lousy behavior. Irrational, yes, but something I just can’t seem to separate during moments of extreme agitation, nor in the following afternoon, if today is any indication.
and the wife spent the afternoon in the bedroom napping while I watched some more of The Cleveland Show
in the den, trying not to stew on how much the day had slowly beaten me down over a series of relatively minor frustrations. I suppose I was hoping to have a hassle-free week surrounding the birthday, but obviously that’s just not meant to be.Brian
wanted to get together for dinner, which I honestly wasn’t really in the mood for, but I know that he and the wife hadn’t really seen one another in awhile, and since my day was already in the shitter, why should I fuck up their plans too?
I put on something from the To-Watch Pile
to pass the time, the recently purchased copy of Crumb
on Criterion Blu-ray
. Since I’d seen the film a few months ago I decided to dig into the Terry Zwigoff
commentary, as I was curious what Ebert
had to add to the examination of the life of the underground comix creator.
I paused the film while we ate, popping on another laughable episode of Ghost Adventures
to pass the time, then flipped channels a bit afterward. It being a ‘school night’ (as it were), Brian
split shortly after dinner and the wife and I finished up the depressing movie, then she headed to bed because she has an early morning tomorrow and I made my way through the bonus features on the disc, as I was curious about the deleted scenes, of which there’s about an hour’s worth of material. I was interested to find out that one of Crumb
’s sisters (neither of whom would agree to be in the film) was a ‘separatist lesbian’ (whatever that means), who wanted ‘reparations’ for what Crumb
’s work had done for the women’s movement and evidently raised her son(!) in a household that didn’t allow men inside the house. You can raise your kids any way you want to, but holy shit what a message to send to your child: all men are evil, but I suppose you’re okay…for now. **eyes the kid warily**
I started writing this nonsense and then noticed the final fuck you of the day: the Suddenlink
service went MIA
around midnight and stayed gone until about 1:30 in the AM
. Thankfully I had noticed and pulled the first bit of the blog over into a Word Document
to continue working on it on the off-chance that the web service would return before I was finished or just ready to say fuck Suddenlink
and go to bed. And now that it has returned it appears spotty at best, so they must still be working on something on their end.
I take this quick opportunity to drop this in here, save it and go the fuck to bed, as tomorrow has
to be better, unless the Maid
manages to set the fucking house on fire.
Which will probably happen, now that I’ve put that out there in the ether. FML
Be seeing you.Tag, you're it, Baggy Eyes! Yorkie
, Murderous Frustration
, To-Watch Pile
, Robert Crumb
, Terry Zwigoff
, Roger Ebert
, Criterion Collection
, The Cleveland Show
, Ghost Adventures
, Shitty Internet Service