To whomever wrote: “You’re probably feeling a whole lot better as you settle into your second trimester. Less nausea, fewer mood swings, and “glowing” skin contribute to an overall sense of well-being.” SCREW YOU, LIAR!
To the cat whose illness has led to feces on my bed, urine all over my house, and a $400 vet bill with a shrug and an “I’m not sure what’s wrong with him,” SCREW YOU! Next time you get sick I’m spending the money on an iPod and you get a brick in a pillow case.
To the vet clinic who told me to collect feces and urine for my cat then forgot to give me the kit and locked the doors before I had even gotten to the car: Screw you, too. I’m not coming back for the kit then going home then coming back with samples. Screw you a lot. Now YOU get to come over and collect feces and urine. For all the family members. I do it every other day; now it’s your turn.
To the phlebotomist who closed the lab ten minutes before we got there: Screw you. No, I didn’t check your hours by calling or anything. But who the hell runs a lab open 9am to 4:30pm, closed for lunch 12-1? Seriously? Do you do any work? I collected a toddler and a sick cat, both of whom needed more than the usual amount of fecal clean up today, got the noisier of the two into the car and drove half an hour for your stupid one vial of blood intended to scare me about all the things that could, hypothetically, but we can’t tell you with any certainty, what might be wrong with my poor, maligned, nauseating Hazelnut. Screw you, lab tech. You give phlebotomy a bad name. and sphignomenometers. And sternocleidomastoids. And stuff like that.
To the librarian who accused us of returning a DVD case with no DVD: SCREW YOU! I always double check because I don’t want to walk all the way down here and have to go back for a stupid disc. AND, I don’t rent baby Einstein crap. No, I didn’t. No, I didn’t. Stop telling me I need to go home to get it. I’ve never IN MY LIFE checked that crap out of your library. I’ve never seen that DVD in my existence. No, I didn’t. Oh, and how do you propose I do that? Buy a new one and give it to you? Screw you. I may have mentioned that, but it bears repeating. SCREW YOU. Oh, you’ll double check? That’s so thoughtful. Oh, it wasn’t me? Oh, you’re paging a different library patron without apologizing to me? You’re ignoring me now? SCREW YOU! I’ve never liked you. You’re greasy, icky, and rather creepy and give my kid a bad image of the few male librarians on this planet. You know what? I’ve taken bibliographic methods. I’ve aced out of all the methodological and theory-based library sciences courses. I could OWN you if I felt like it. Don’t ever accuse me of Baby Einstein Forgetting again.
You know what, world? Screw you. Screw all the nasty people and the yucky people and the rude people. Screw all y’all. Cuz I don’t have the patience for your asinine driving, ugly looks, rude cell phone talking, and general in-my-way-getting. Get off this planet, you jerks. Especially the dude who took the last jar of m—-f—ing olives today. Screw you. You’d think I’d have something new or clever to say, wouldn’t you? Nope. Screw you. You people are killing me. And you don’t need those olives like I do.
I hope global warming takes out, like, 85% of you by next year.
NaptimeWriting 
You make being pissed off cool.
I love you when you rant.
You had me at “You give phlebotomy a bad name.” I love you too.
If I had some olives, I’d wire them to you STAT!
Poor, maligned sternocleidomastoids. When will the world stop giving you a bad name?
May I offer you kudos and support and affirmation for your avoidance of all things Baby Einstein? Because those products? Those products make me laugh. Derisively. For a long time.
Oh, and everything you said about the world? Yeah, I totally second that.
A little tangent…the creator of Baby Einstein, Julie Clark, lived in the area where I taught high school…met her once…Bim-bo. But she sold her shitty product to Disney, so who’s the idiot, here?
LMAO. I’m so sorry…it sounds like a horrible day (and you’re probably thinking, “Screw You, Ink!” right now). But you’re friggin’ awesomely funny when you rage. I always cheer along with you as I read.
Hope tomorrow is much better.
ck and KW and jc, I’m happy to amuse you. You are why I started blogging. Because days like this make me suicidal and binge-eat-y, but now I just write to you instead.
Dan, the line in Infinite Jest where Gately is scared that he even *has* a sternocleidomastoid is one of my favorites. I’m a big fan of all things clavicular, and the SCM is just so awesome (if a big showy). I am horrible to mock those who Baby Einstein, but I do. Because, come on.
KW, I say anyone who ca take a marginal idea and sell it to The Man, who then turns it into a ketchup flavor and floor cleaner is smarter than I am.
And Ink, I never think Screw You, Ink! Because I don’t use that kind of language. ;-) (Rant amnesia means as soon as it’s out of my system I forget how venomous I can be.) As I said to the the other commenters, I make it through only if someone can laugh at my misery. So chortle away. You’ve earned good cheer for all the relief you’ve brought me online.
((((naptime)))) You rant like a rockstar. And you write like one, too. Sorry you had such a suckhole of a day, but thanks for writing about and helping me to feel like I’m not alone.
Life sucks! Especially when you’re still vomiting and not glowing. Then you add all those jerks into the mix. You need a vacation.
ps: I remember one time I had just yakked into the sink, and my husband said, “Wow, you ARE glowing” and I wanted to punch him.
lurker, you just call and I’ll yell this to your colleague. He won’t know what hit him.
fae, you said it, lady.
ink, I’m trying not to laugh, and trying not to send evil thoughts your husband’s way…cuz that was funny AND uncalledfor.
Pingback: No, seriously. « Naptime Writing