Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Who's My Daddy?

Little pissed at my dad. We have been email bickering back and forth about the trade that the Mariner's just made and he told me today that I didn't have an opinion I was just repeating what J told me and that's all I ever do.

Excuse me? Have we met? I am your daughter, you know the one that you supposedly love and respect and, I don't know, KNOW? I always have an opinion and will almost always express it. And I have always been this way. In fact, when I was a child the only thing I ever remember getting in trouble for was being a little too blunt. But all of the sudden all this thinking for myself and forming my own ideas is getting to difficult and its making my poor little head hurt.

Fucking dad. This is the same old shit we used to fight about when I was a kid. This is what made me not talk to him for years because he would demean me over everything--obviously not just baseball. He has been doing this for a couple of months. Acting like I don't know anything. Fucking dad. When they get old, my mom will be going to the nice nursing home, my dad will go to one that will change your IV or your catheter--but not both.

There is a really weird noise coming from outside. If I am not mistaken its our rather large neighbors having kinky sex. Either that or large gorillas fighting to the death. Its really disturbing. Plus, these fucking people complained that our BUG ZAPPER was too loud this weekend. And now they are having gorilla loving that could wake the dead.

Man, I think I just heard the phrase "who's your daddy?" now I know its them. She always asks him that.

I hate that phrase. The one time a man said it to me I laughed my ass off for like an hour. For some reason he was insulted. He got pissy with him after I asked him, "why are you asking me that, I'm not fucking him?"

Men are too damn sensitive.

Had lunch with an old friend today. Went a lot better than I thought it would. I didn't really want to go because she and I had only ever really had our old jobs in common. I liked her well enough but I couldn't figure out what we would talk about. Fortunately, she had PMS also so she would go eat cheeseburgers.

Speaking of PMS, Monica and I declared ourselves exempt from restraining ourselves from talking shit about people for the rest of the month. This is the BEST THING EVER! Seriously, I like the people I work with but it was so liberating to talk shit about them in the most horrible ways possible without anyone judging. We could talk about how one gal dresses like Sponge J Square Pants (TM Monica) and how another thinks entirely too highly of herself. I am not by nature a nice person, and now I feel no burden to pretend. At least with Monica.

A couple of my co-workers were looking at some photos I have at my desk today. A couple of them are from my wedding and one girl commented, "oh! you used MY colors!" Um wha? Did you patent those colors? I wasn't aware that only one person could use a color combination for all time. I am not talking about something unusual like orange and purple I am talking about burgundy and white. Christ. I really like this girl but she is so self-absorbed. She can relate any topic to herself. Of course, that is kind of why I like her.

Buster has both a bacterial and yeast infection in his ears. This, as you can imagine, smells pleasant. I gave him his meds tonight (something MLH usually does but he is at school) and he pouted and whined and threw a fit. Fortunately, he only weighs twenty pounds and I was able to take care of business. Even after his good job cookie he was crabby. He will probably take a crap in my shoe later to make me pay. But his ears already smell better, if you can get past that Pine-Sol smell of the meds.

Better go feed them before they call the Humane Society.

7:33 p.m. :: comment ::
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