At this time of year on Facebook, many of my friends decide to take the 30 Day Gratitude Challenge, which has its own website and everything. The point of the challenge is to spend an entire month being grateful for a different thing each day. It kind of drags out the point of Thanksgiving, which is cool and all, I’m not against it, I’m totally into giving thanks for stuff. It’s just that, the way things have been going lately, I’m pretty sure that, if I start being publicly grateful, the Universe will hear and yank it all away again.
So, I’m flying under the radar with this anti-gratitude list.
|My glass is half empty, AND IT'S POISONED.|
My Furnace Keeps Breaking
This morning, I had my furnace fixed for like, the third time this winter, and it’s not even properly winter yet. Every time the repairmen come out and get it to work, it breaks down again like, two days later. The ups and downs are really wearing on my nerves. I get all excited about having heat, only to be disappointed again. It’s warm, it’s cold, it’s like being in a bad relationship.
I have a mustache. I can’t show you a picture or anything, cause I waxed it off for like the umpteenth time right before having the great idea to write this blog post. That’s okay, you don’t need to see it. If there’s one thing a lady deserves to hide from the world, it’s her mustache.
|Also her boobs and stuff.|
Let me just say that lady mustaches are a pain in the ass because you have to wait for them to grow back out before you can remove them again. Also, there’s always that hair that won’t come out on the wax strip, so you have to tweeze it out, except it’s so firmly rooted in your inappropriate face follicle that it’s like pulling up a small tree, or something, and your whole lip kinda lifts up when you tug on it.
Anyone who blogs or has any other type of creative life online, or tweets a lot, is going to pick up some stalkers. I can’t say too much, because they’re watching.
In Real Life Stalkers
These are infinitely worse than Internet stalkers, because they’re right behind you, right now. I often get what I like to refer to as “mildly stalked” by guys who think that following me is the definition of romance. It is not. I’ve also been scary-psycho-stalked, which perhaps makes the other kind less appealing.
If only I could block them from my life as easily as I can block them from Facebook.
Cat Box Scooping
I know nobody likes cat box scooping, least of all those who don’t own cats. But seriously, this cat I’ve got poops like four times more than he has any right too. I know he’s a growing kitten and all, but he squeezes out his WEIGHT in freakin’ turds like, every day. And then when I try to remove them, he freaks out and gets all “WHAT ARE YOU DOING THOSE ARE MY TURDS DON’T TAKE MY TURDS I NEED THEM!!!”
|What he thinks he's saving them for, I don't wanna know.|
Y’all are assholes, come off it.
Leftover Halloween Candy
As you can see, I’m down to the citrus-flavored Tootsie rolls and weird, flavorless gum drops. I don’t know whose idea it was to turn lemon and lime into candy flavors, but it was a bad one.
|At least the cat seems into it.|