JASON: So. Anything interesting happen today?
AMY: I spent the whole day dealing with shit.
JASON: Ooh, was there some kind of Internet drama?
AMY: No. Like actual, physical shit. I spent the whole day dealing with feces.
JASON. Ooh, Noah?
AMY: Well, yes. Noah kept saying he had to go apoopoo but wouldn't go on the potty and he wanted to watch the Potty Time With Elmo video 14 dozen times and then Max pooped in the office twice and Ceiba crapped on the stairs.
AMY: Yeah. It was an enriching day. I do good work.
I've been in a bit of a cranky funk this week and feeling immensely sorry for myself for no reason at all.
Well, okay, unless you count this as a valid reason for funkitude:
Of course, after cursing the coffee maker out for RISING AGAINST ME, FOR MAKING EVERYTHING WORSE, I realized I'd forgotten to put the inner plastic basket thing in before the filter and thus this was all my own fault but COME ON, I was still totally ready to cry about it.
Or, you know, grab a straw and suck that shit up off the countertop.
Same thing with all the pet poop. Max, in a fit of old age and/or belated moving-related rebellion, has decided he will not use his litter box if it is not P-E-R-F-E-C-T-L-Y clean. Which means I must scoop it out after he goes EVERY TIME and sift it and add fresh litter EVERY TIME, or else he relieves himself six inches to the right of the box. As I am extremely lazy and forgetful and also trying to prove a point that he's being ridiculous, just CRAP IN THE BOX ALREADY, he's been having a lot of accidents.
So I clean it all up and always manage to spill litter on the floor, and then I grab the mini-handvac thing and of course, it's never fully charged because I am extremely lazy and never remember to charge it, but at the time I am all, WOE IS ME and *SHAKES FIST AT THE HEAVENS* and that's when I punch myself in the face because dude, it's some kitty litter on the carpet, get a damn grip and call the vet already.
(Seriously. Can you believe this is the most interesting story I've managed to come up with all week?)
(Does your brain itch as it atrophies? Or is it more of a stinging-type sensation?)
Several months ago I blamed a similar funk on the weather. Which is completely gorgeous right now. Except maybe it's a little too hot, plus there are mosquitoes, and I get a sinus headache from all the fucking grass and nature and shit.
Basically, hi. I'm a whiny little bitch who is never happy. Also probably on the rag.
But look! Here's some baby beefcake.
(Hey. Anybody want to join my little ray-of-sunshine ass for a Top Chef open thread tonight at the Mamapop forums? It'll be just like you're sitting in my living room, except you don't have to put up with me asking for foot rubs. Also sometimes I get a little gassy after dinner, so yeah. Forums are totally the way to watch TV with me.)
(Also, of COURSE it was reaction number 3. What kind of mature human being do you people take me for?)