Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Fucking Bus

Could not find my wallet this morning.

Happy Fucking Monday.

Ended up waking up my husband, "accidentally" of course. Meaning I ran through our bedroom looking for it screaming FUCKKKKKKK!

I mean if he can sleep through that than more power to him honestly.

He found it for me. I should feel guilty about that. But I have spend about three years of my life looking for his wallet or keys or whatnot. So. Actually no guilt so far.

I have been reading a lot about infertility. This is fucked up on about ten thousand levels. First, we are not infertile. Or I guess we could be given the illnesses that I have had and J's previously low sperm count. But so far, it hasn't been long enough for us to jump on that train. YET.

Also, I am the kind of person that freaks out about this stuff. I am not a calm person. People at work would argue with me about that. This is because they do not see me have my weekly (ok DAILY) meltdown at home. They do not see me just lose my shit at the grocery store like I did last week.

So reading stuff about people doing everything but boiling their uteruses in order to have a baby is not a healthy situation for me. I just need to chill the fuck out.

But I won't.

Shouldn't bother trying really.

I am so very very healthy.

On the bus today this guy didn't want to scoot over so I could have a seat. Its fucking five in the morning and I am wearing three inch heels. Move the fuck over sweetpea. So he gets up and has me sit by the window. Now I don't mind this, I figure this means he is getting off at the first stop. I mean he made a big production of it and I didn't need that. Especially after I had to RUN (in my three inch heels) to make this bus since I was LATE (looking for my wallet). But ok. I will sit next to the window. But he didn't get off at the first stop. Or the second. Turns out jerkoff thought it was a goddamn airplace and he needed an AISLE seat. This is a forty minute busride (honestly thirty because our driver speeds like he is going to get discovered by NASCAR). Your legs are not going to cramp sitting next to the window for fucking half an hour. Then he makes an ever bigger production to let me out. Forcing me to practically crawl over him, bang the fuck out of my head on the overhead and basically fuck up my morning.

Thanks MISTER.

On a brighter note I look really tan today.


6:24 a.m. :: comment ::
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