Got fished in, totally fished in by the VH1. Happens all the time. It's like they have spies in my brain. Ohhh... Rock of Love. All my heart to Poison, because they spent a great deal of time in my CD player and still do, but not as often, too many choices these days. This show is a tour bus full of painted valley hookers on parade. It's nothing but lip gloss, plastic, and the unidentifiable ick around the edges of the hot tub. And I can't seem to stop watching. The shame I feel.
Mr. Buffie is a very lucky son of a gun. He's totally passed out on the sofa right now.
Post-fried-chicken-food-coma. It's a common occurrence in American males over the age of 35.
He was very busy doing my biddng all weekend. I have new mulch (it's red!) and new plants and some iris that will soon bloom.
Hey, do any of you know if mulch is bad? I talked to Misse on the phone tonight. Anyway, she said mulch was supposed to be bad, but she couldn't remember if that
was a fact or suburban legend. eeek ))Worried! ((
Bugs, gross.
Is it against the law to bribe a sky cap? I kind of assumed that was why they were really there. These aren't simply kind, smiling gentlemen who help you unload your car and never complain when your license gets stuck in your wallet. Those guys are
there to make a dime, yeah duh. I mean, everyone knows extra tips earn you some extra liberties. That's the American Way. Those who can afford DO and
those who can't afford POUT. -pout- It was ok to bribe in the days before the TSA clearly. Two big, heavy bags and two carry ons, plus
a purse, a camera and a paper shopping bag. That's
how much I took with me then and that's how
much I WOULD take if I still could without the want of mailing half of it ahead of time and tipping the
@$%^^&* sky cap and extra $100 bucks and flashing a little more boob than is probably really legal in public.
I just saw the dumbest commercial ever... these
sisters get into a fight on this reality show and the announcer is all dramatic like this is the first
sister fight ever in history. Whatever! I don't even have siblings and I know about those fights. Duh.
Everyone does.
Ohkay, what the hell is going on with all these line breaks? Screw this. I'm not fixing all that! Pfft. Geez. MySpace has more fricking technical gremlins than boat load of classic European cars.
Poo on MySpace. Besides, there's a bug in this room and it's huge and flying and I think I need to find another room to be in because fearless bug killer guy is asleep on the couch!!!! Aaaaak!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Crybabies! 01Apr08
I’m surrounded by whiners! Everywhere! Make them sssstop.
Counting down to latest Buffie rant in 3... 2... 1...
Today, someone complained there was too much mail in our out box this afternoon. TOO MUCH MAIL in the OUT Box! OUT. It’s outgoing mail. That’s where it goes. It isn’t MY fault there was so much of it. Maybe we’re doing too much business. Maybe you should complain to the BIG BOSS about that. GO HOME and deal with it the next day!!! Is this rocket science??? Really?
Recently, someone cried to my boss because my boobs looked too big in a particular shirt. Even said they could see my areolas because the top was so low. BULLSHIT! I have better manners and more class than that. Like I want to show off my goods in THAT environment. Puhleeze. Next time, Buffie is not going to listen to the petty garbage. She’s going to hang up the phone and go on about her business. Unlike some folks, she has work to do and cares about getting it done.
A CryBaby Award should be given to the person who complained about the junky truck being parked next to their car in the parking lot. True Story! It’s been a while ago, but some butt clown had a poo poo party with how our fugly truck was too close to their sacred automobile. The kicker? Junky truck was completely within the white lines. Not even on the edge. If CryBaby Supreme is so concerned about his ride, perhaps he should double-park in the back of the lot, like the rest of us do when we drive our nice cars to work. Just another helpful suggestion. ~evil grin~
If I took time out of my day to whine and cry about every little thing I witnessed that wasn’t to my liking, I wouldn’t have time to do anything else.
It’s called TOLERANCE. That’s what a person does when they’re around other people. They accept the fact that we’re all different and we all do things in our own way. We TOLERATE those few differences that rub us the wrong way. It takes one hell of an overblown sense of entitlement to think that a person’s lack of tolerance constitutes a change in behavior on behalf of the rest of the world. My ass! Get over it. Shit happens. No one is guaranteed a 100% happy-all-the-time life.
BTW, ranting is not the same as being a cry-baby. I’m laughing my ass off when I rant because life can be so completely absurd! Crybabies, on the other hand, are usually miserable and pathetic. ... At least that’s what I tell myself to justify my ranting. Hee Hee Hee!!!
~winkies~
Counting down to latest Buffie rant in 3... 2... 1...
Today, someone complained there was too much mail in our out box this afternoon. TOO MUCH MAIL in the OUT Box! OUT. It’s outgoing mail. That’s where it goes. It isn’t MY fault there was so much of it. Maybe we’re doing too much business. Maybe you should complain to the BIG BOSS about that. GO HOME and deal with it the next day!!! Is this rocket science??? Really?
Recently, someone cried to my boss because my boobs looked too big in a particular shirt. Even said they could see my areolas because the top was so low. BULLSHIT! I have better manners and more class than that. Like I want to show off my goods in THAT environment. Puhleeze. Next time, Buffie is not going to listen to the petty garbage. She’s going to hang up the phone and go on about her business. Unlike some folks, she has work to do and cares about getting it done.
A CryBaby Award should be given to the person who complained about the junky truck being parked next to their car in the parking lot. True Story! It’s been a while ago, but some butt clown had a poo poo party with how our fugly truck was too close to their sacred automobile. The kicker? Junky truck was completely within the white lines. Not even on the edge. If CryBaby Supreme is so concerned about his ride, perhaps he should double-park in the back of the lot, like the rest of us do when we drive our nice cars to work. Just another helpful suggestion. ~evil grin~
If I took time out of my day to whine and cry about every little thing I witnessed that wasn’t to my liking, I wouldn’t have time to do anything else.
It’s called TOLERANCE. That’s what a person does when they’re around other people. They accept the fact that we’re all different and we all do things in our own way. We TOLERATE those few differences that rub us the wrong way. It takes one hell of an overblown sense of entitlement to think that a person’s lack of tolerance constitutes a change in behavior on behalf of the rest of the world. My ass! Get over it. Shit happens. No one is guaranteed a 100% happy-all-the-time life.
BTW, ranting is not the same as being a cry-baby. I’m laughing my ass off when I rant because life can be so completely absurd! Crybabies, on the other hand, are usually miserable and pathetic. ... At least that’s what I tell myself to justify my ranting. Hee Hee Hee!!!
~winkies~
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