Circe is pissed
So many of you know my inner ferret, the creature that comes out whenever I am past pissed. Well, she [Frida] went on vacation today because she's just not good enough. Ferrets, though feisty, are just too cute for this issue.
Nope, this instance calls for my inner wolverine, Circe. She rarely comes out, but today she is there. Why?
People at work piss her off, and she doesn't want to get into it.
My computer is still fucked, and I can't even use bullet points for this list, and I thrive on bullet points.
My fucking car has been in the shop 3 times; I've paid for parts and labor 3 times, and the fucking people still haven't fixed my car, and they do this whole, "Well it worked when you left" fucking thing, which is just stupid bc I don't care if it worked when I left--I SHOULD BE ABLE TO MAKE IT HOME FROM YOUR STUPID FUCKING AUTO SHOP WITHOUT IT OVERHEATING AND LOSING OIL, YOU STUPID MOTHER FUCKERS.
My car is eating away at my trip to abq and denver fund and is necessitating a move to Clear Lake, the den of death by Stepford Wife.
Have I mentioned my fucking computer--Circe thinks Windows Vista sucks ass, as does HP, and I don't care what impotent motherfucker in Seattle wants to get pissed at Circe for saying it.
Circe still lives in fucking Houston with all the crazies, and she wants to move to Philly.
Circe knows another impotent mother fucker--or is he impotent or just frightened to do anything about it bc hands are much safer--and she hates him, too. FUCKING FENCE RIDER!
Circe is sick of the patriarchy in this world. Just because you have an extended clit, doesn't mean you rule.
Running is making all of my muscles very defined, which is a good thing--I've got legs like Linda Hamilton (ok, well almost), but my fucking ass is pissing me off. Before the training, my ass was an awning for all the woodland creatures to snuggle under during a rainstorm--that was bad enough. Now it's the fucking continental shelf. It's like the more glute muscles I get, the more it extends from my body. Circe doesn't like it.
BUGGERALL--GRUMBLESNARFALOO!
Nope, this instance calls for my inner wolverine, Circe. She rarely comes out, but today she is there. Why?
People at work piss her off, and she doesn't want to get into it.
My computer is still fucked, and I can't even use bullet points for this list, and I thrive on bullet points.
My fucking car has been in the shop 3 times; I've paid for parts and labor 3 times, and the fucking people still haven't fixed my car, and they do this whole, "Well it worked when you left" fucking thing, which is just stupid bc I don't care if it worked when I left--I SHOULD BE ABLE TO MAKE IT HOME FROM YOUR STUPID FUCKING AUTO SHOP WITHOUT IT OVERHEATING AND LOSING OIL, YOU STUPID MOTHER FUCKERS.
My car is eating away at my trip to abq and denver fund and is necessitating a move to Clear Lake, the den of death by Stepford Wife.
Have I mentioned my fucking computer--Circe thinks Windows Vista sucks ass, as does HP, and I don't care what impotent motherfucker in Seattle wants to get pissed at Circe for saying it.
Circe still lives in fucking Houston with all the crazies, and she wants to move to Philly.
Circe knows another impotent mother fucker--or is he impotent or just frightened to do anything about it bc hands are much safer--and she hates him, too. FUCKING FENCE RIDER!
Circe is sick of the patriarchy in this world. Just because you have an extended clit, doesn't mean you rule.
Running is making all of my muscles very defined, which is a good thing--I've got legs like Linda Hamilton (ok, well almost), but my fucking ass is pissing me off. Before the training, my ass was an awning for all the woodland creatures to snuggle under during a rainstorm--that was bad enough. Now it's the fucking continental shelf. It's like the more glute muscles I get, the more it extends from my body. Circe doesn't like it.
BUGGERALL--GRUMBLESNARFALOO!
posted by Cranky at 9:45 PM
1 Comments:
Death by Stepford Wives, lol.
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