Complaining Blog

Here is a list of things I wish for:

1. That I never, ever, ever had to pump my own gas. It is my least favorite job.
2. I have a lot of feelings about the stupid crap people do! Why can't I tell them how stupid/annoying they are being and just have it taken as the fact that it is instead of some huge deal? Of course, ideally people would just not be stupid in the first place.
3. That all indoor spaces were kept at 76*. All the time. The only exceptions are steam rooms.
4. A pogo stick.
5. No tomatoes would ever touch my food in any way. Except for lasagna and still it should be mostly cheese.
6. It was ok to laugh at ugly babies. Sometimes they just look like old men. Why do I still have to call them cute? It's not cute. It's hilarious. But I can't laugh at them. It's not like the baby will care!
7. That Obie didn't hide under the bed. What is he doing under there?
8. More unicorns.
9. To never have to listen to a discussion about politics again.
10. A zillion dollars.
11. The perfect sofa. I finally find one I love only to discover that the cushions aren't removable. How can you have a sofa if you can't clean under the cushions?! That's disgusting. But it's so pretty...
12. To not have to look at pictures of tragic 3rd world country children on internet advertisements. That is not helping me want to donate money. It's just making me sad and grossed out.
13. EVERYONE would wear deoderant.
14. More people got what they deserved.
15. Pedicare stores stayed open later.
16. Malls stayed open later.
17. All rolling back-packs would explode.
18. My nails grew at the same rate on each finger.
19. "Business Shorts" were not a thing.
20. To be able to select the memories I wanted to remember. Like, grandparents- yes remember. My mom's friend Esther and her kids and how they smelled- not remember.

End of list.

I know I'm a teensy bit racist. And I don't even care, because I just read an article about how angry people were at a fabric designer who draws images of her own childhood on her fabrics for not including more people of color. Um... if she didn't have any people of color present during her childhood then why would she depict them in drawings of her childhood? And who the hell cares?! Why would anyone care what she puts on her fabric? If (fill in race here) don't like it because it doesn't have (whatever race) people on it then they shouldn't buy it! It's totally racist of them to expect her to alter her art to suit their race!

Jeez. I swear it's like if we don't all act super guilty for being white then we're doing it wrong. Well guess what? Now I'm offended that there aren't any white people on my Chili's menu! And I'm offended that the Wal-Mart commercials don't have any white people in them! (Ha ha... probably cause the Wal-Mart doesn't have any white people in it. They all shop at Target.) Why isn't my race being represented in a positive way?!?! See how stupid it sounds?

The thing is, if people of other races want to see themselves represented on fabric, or whatever, then make it happen! It's not up to the fabric designer to make sure that whoever's niece looks like the girl in her fabric. I hope her next fabric is of a giant white butt mooning everyone. Take that racists!

Every single thing about air travel. Every. Single. Thing.

1. Why does faxing still exist? Why is it even happening anymore? Is there a single thing on this planet that wouldn't be better off if it was emailed instead of faxed? No there is not. Faxing is retarded.

2. Old people being rude on the phone. Why? Yelling "I WANT TO TALK TO THE PERSON IN CHARGE!!!!" is not going to make any situation better. So what the heck, oldies?

Today when I was going into the DSW there was a dad next door with his little girl and he was screaming at her. Out on the sidewalk in front of everyone full on screaming in her face. He was even using the F word. Apparently she had asked for a toy or something in the store that they were at (a kids store, go figure that she would ask for a toy there). Everyone was totally watching them and talking about how horrible that guy was. But no one stopped him, I can't judge them because I didn't either. But he was huge and obviously angry. What could anyone have done except make him angrier? Now I feel bad that I didn't do anything. Should I have tried to talk to him? Call the police? I feel so bad for that little girl. I wasn't even able to enjoy my shoe shopping because of him. I seriously hope that guy gets genital crabs. And I don't mean the STD kind. I mean actual crabs on his genitals. The kind that have big pincher's.

I hate, I Hate, I HATE  any and all advertisements that get in the way of what I am trying to look at on the computer. Like when you are looking at a website and the little box pops up asking you to take a friggin survey. NO! I will not take your lame survey, Home Shopping Network! Let me shop in peace! Or when you click on a news story but you end up going to the Febreeze site because right as you click on the news the Febreeze pops up and covers the whole page with its advertisement video about a cat!! I HATE IT SO MUCH!!! When are people going to stop being so stupid that this kind of "punch you in the eyeballs" advertising works on them?! Companies wouldn't do it if it wasn't working. I make a concious effort to not buy products with annoying advertisements. Also I am going to start saving Obie and Fifi's twosies and send them in the mail to all the companies that are too annoying. That means you, Geiko!

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.