People of the Internet

Causeless and unnecessary complaining seems to be a theme on this blog. It started off cheerful and cute, (See Spring 2010 archives) as if I were one of those women who blogs about their favorite new spring line of clothing, or this delicious low cal frittata I was just dying to whip up for my handsome and super sensitive but extremely rugged boyfriend.

Well, the jig is up folks. I hate fashion, I hate changing over my wardrobe, I support spandex as sleepwear, I am lucky to brush my teeth in the morning so fuck me if I've accessorized, I believe a bathing suit bottom is an acceptable form of underwear, I develop scary shopping induced rage that can only be alleviated by the pretzel stand conveniently located on most floors in Rhode Island malls. Granted, I'm not a sandals and socks person so breathe easy and I try to abide by standard rules such as never mixing brown and black, but the girls will testify I am no fashionista.

Similarly, cooking? Fuck that. I try out cooking a few times every year. I am always initially filled with hope and excitement, I picture myself on TV acting as Rachel Ray's protegee, I imagine everyone asking me to recreate that wonderful dish I made last week because they've been just salivating over it ever since! I call myself a nutritionist. Then, within maybe ten or fifteen minutes of returning from the grocery store I need a nap. Food shopping was exhausting. I am guilt ridden by my contribution to the evils of the Food Industry, I think of baby chicks in wood chippers and mutant cows eating others' brains, of Tyson and slaughter houses and cannibalistic pigs gobbling sludge out of their troughs!

I decide I'm not hungry. This lasts maybe 30 seconds, I go buck wild and cook a feast. The abundance of food is good because within minutes everything is up in smoke and I'm lucky if I can salvage at least one thing out of the ash. Someone will say "Is everything okay? Do you need any help?" as the smoke alarm blares, to which I mutter several swear words and dole out rude gestures while simultaneously prodding the charred pan with a spatula. This generally is cause for a second nap. Scarred from the experience, I donate my groceries to science. The potatoes grow eyes, the green beans fester in their own juices, we clean out the fridge and gasp at the dates wondering what the brown and yellow blobs once were.

Where was I going with this?

Ah that's right, I had a reason to bitch. It's more of a general poll to be honest. People of the Internet, does it piss you the fuck off when someone asks if you are sick when clearly you are?

Let me elaborate. I conquered the dirty dishes the other day. For weeks I had felt the sink starring at me, beckoning me to come closer. I smelt it, of course I did, guacamole can only ferment so long before its stench carries into the far reaches of the living room. Still, I ignored it. Finally, in a sporadic cleaning frenzy I cracked. I went for the kill. I cleaned those suckers so good, scrubbed the shit right off them. I felt awesome. Little did I know something was lurking within. A cold. The dreaded Spring Time Cold that rears its ugly head every March and always the week when you've worn your sandals and snow boots on consecutive days. The bastard.

Anyway, sure enough a tickle turned into a full on rumble and I've been hacking up green shit ever since. Though honestly, that's manageable. It's the snot that's getting to me. Do we sound like the type of people who have patterned Puffs boxes lying around? No. So I've taken to using anything from computer paper to paper towels, and once though I'm not proud of it, I snot rocketed our front lawn. (Sorry girls.)

Flash forward to today at work. I'm so frigging nasally that I'm inserting d's into almost everything. It's a cross between a preteen with a palate expander and a white Rastafarian. "Hello, Dhis is da Seasons. How may I--AAAAAACHOOO--help you?" to which someone will respond "Danielle, is that you? Are you sick?" No. No, I'm not sick at all.

I had a tissue stuffed up one nostril and I was struggling to open a cough drop today when a co-worker came by the desk. "Oh! I didn't know you were working, how are you?" "Dever been bedder." "Oh dear, do you think you have a cold?" Funny you should ask, I was starting to suspect that! Annoying, no?

I feel the same way about the weather. If the weather is normal no one says shit, no one wants to talk about partly cloudy. But if the weather is severe everyone has to fucking mention it. The blank faced girl at Reception trying to keep her eyes open after being locked inside the building for 6 hours answering phones has no interest in "My, my, my I've never seen a sunnier day!" Really, asshole? Well guess what I'm not seeing this one. I'm going to rot here, and talk about it with every other jerk off with a pulse who walks through that door. Similarly, if it's snowing or raining or even windy everyone's a weatherman. "2-4 inches! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?" "Supposed to let up around 6, but then rain again tomorrow." Fabulous. And my favorite every time someone hits the handicap button to open the doors "Sweetie, are you freezing up here, it is SO COLD since I've opened that!!!!!!" "HOW PECULIAR!" I reply.

 (The pictures were taken in my holding cell)