Complaining Blog

A complaint. (c/o Annie)


If you are a fence man it is inappropriate to do the following:

-Ask to use the restroom inside someone's home.

-Take the stinkiest dump humanly possible

-Leave poop stains in my toilet


Sick. My bathroom had to be on quarantine until I scrubbed it with bleach 100 times
 
** Seriously, this is the worst thing ever. A stranger pooping in your home?! I would just have to burn the house down. No other options.
 
Thank you for your submission, Annie.**

When people have abnormally big hands it always totally grosses me out. Or big feet. Both equally disgusting. I think I would have embraced the Chinese tradition of feet binding if I would have lived during that time. And been Chinese.

I have another thing to say today. Remember how I complained about the doctor's office? Well, after waiting the appropriate 3,000 years for my appointment, I went, was seen by the doctor, drove across town and had my blood drawn and was done in an hour, start to finish. Then they called me the next morning at like 9:01 with my test results. WHAT?! I sort of forgive you, doctor.

I hope all the smokers hurry up and die. They are making it really stinky for the rest of us.

This is a serious complaint. I've chosen to do on the blog because I've already complained to all the actual people I know and they are sick of hearing it but I don't feel better yet, so I have to blog it out.

Why's everything gotta suck so bad? When will the sucking end? What is one to do to make the sucky stuff suck less? And most importantly, why does everyone keep telling me that other people have sucky stuff too? Is that supposed to make me feel better? It doesn't. I already know that other people have sucky stuff and it doesn't change the suckyness level of my stuff.

I'm tired. Tired, tired, tired, of all the things, and from lack of sleep over dreading and pondering all the things. I'm tired of trying to pinpoint where I went wrong that led me to this point, and trying to figure out how everyone else took the same steps and ended up somewhere else. And I'm tired of comiserating with friends about our problems, feeling better that I have a friend who can relate, and then watching their problem go away, and they are moving forward and their life is getting better, and my problem is still sucky, and it never goes away.

At least I have Woobie and Original Sauce and Little Baby (Justin, Obie, Fifi). They make me feel better most of the time, except for when Little Baby cries too early in the morning and I have to hate her because sleeping in is the whole reason I have dog babies and not people babies and she's ruining it. I still mostly love her. I just shut her in the closet when she's too loud.

That is all. I actually do feel a little better.

Step 2: Call the blood drawing place for an appointment. "Uh, gwe don't hab no appoinmenths.. Ju can jutht com een gwen ju wan." (Apparently they will suck your blood only on a walk-in-basis).

Step 3. Go to blood drawing place and repeat step 3 of 'Doctor's Office, Part 1', doubling the time and stink level. Say a silent prayer of gratitude for internet on my phone. Watch as seven Mexican families with at least 6 children each in tow go before me because the Mexican working the front desk likes them best. They are probably all cousins.

My blood drawing guy, Igor.