Thursday, November 18, 2010


Apparently, my minions haven't learned their lesson. Mr. AwesomeCool is back in South Goat Land and reporting a filthy mess.

In addition to bitching about them on his blog, rather than doing anything about it, he also accuses me of being a slovenly dirt bag!

I vacuumed that basement every fucking day and every fucking day it would end up covered in chicken shit, straw and cracked corn. Don't ask me how. I don't want to know.

And I don't know what he's talking about that was stacked neatly on the shelves. Little-Awesome prefers her clothes to be in random piles across the room and he should discuss that with her.

And don't forget the state of the RainyTown house when I moved back. Let's just remind ourselves that the toilet looked like Swamp Thing took a dump and forgot to flush and acknowledge that I win.

In other news, I've essentially abandoned the job search. If I can't even get an interview at 'Batteries Plus' from the dwarfy looking malcontent who sniveled at me for not bringing a resume along with my application, what's the point of even trying?

In still other news, everyone else here is gloomy and desperate. This weekend, as I was walking down the stairs of the library, I heard,

"Oh my god! Could you walk any slower?!"

Naturally, being the sort who enjoys a little drama, I slowed down to see who that growly, witchy voiced person was talking to. Then I heard,

"Of course you can!"

I veered off to the other side of the staircase, absolutely dying of curiosity. Who is this horrible slow person on the stairs? Is it the witchy woman's hapless progeny? Is it her boyfriend? Is she insane and talking to figments of her imagination?

As the growly, witchy woman went by, glaring at me and grumbling something I couldn't make out, on account of her missing teeth, I realized there was no one in front of her but me!! I was the slow walker on the stairs!

I stood on the stairs frozen with the shock that someone in the world, for a brief moment at least, did not consider me SuperFantabulous in practically every way.

She was gone, like a faces of meth poster blowing in the wind, before I could do anything about her incredible oversight. But what was I going to do anyway? Start a screaming match with a meth head on the library stairs?

The steps are steep, I'm prone to falling over, and she was obviously crazy. I'm sure it would not have ended well for me had the confrontation turned 'try to push each other down the stairs'.

I'll have to take solace in the fact that thanks to my slow walking down the stairs, she probably missed her bus to go meet her meth dealer, and died from a meth withdrawal induced rage.


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