What Really Bakes My Cookies
Mmmm….cookies. Anyways, I’m in a crabby mood right now, triggered by J, which RARELY happens. Last night he went out to see off a friend who’s leaving town permanently and he went straight after work. They went out, had dinner, hung out played darts at the bar etc. Do you know what time he got home? 12 am. Ok, so why does that irritate me? Well, firstly because I didn’t expect him to be home that late. Why I care, I don’t know, but it got me. Secondly, any time during the week that we go somewhere and 10o’clock rolls around he can barely keep his eyes open, but last night he went into the city, AND drove home with his crusty contacts in. He hates night driving, but he did it. Then he emails me today complaining how tired he is. DUH! No shit! What did you expect, to be ready to run a marathon? Stupid. And why don’t you unpack your damn suitcase from our trip we returned from on Sunday? Grr….
The other thing I am irritated about (and I apologize if you fall under this category-this is just a rant, not directed to anyone in particular- but it’s how I feel) is when I see people (online or in real life) who bitch about needing to lose weight and then you look at their numbers and/or picture and they are like 130 pounds, size 6 or under. WTF??? You have NO idea what it is like to teeter on the brink of obesity. I’m not saying that these people are perfect, I am sure they have their reasons for wanting to be 85 pounds, but don’t say how fat you are, then talk about how your size 4’s are too tight. I don’t want to hear it. My fourteens would wrap around your entire body 3 times. With room leftover. Your four’s could be my leg warmers. If I decide I’d like to resurrect that style a la Jennifer Beale, I’ll call you and you can hand over those size fours because apparently they don’t fit you anyways.
In other news, the Yanks lost, the Sox won, that’s good for business. And there is wedding anniversary cake in my fridge that I don’t even want. That’s an achievement. I’m sure that poophead will come home and polish it off. Brat.