The Grumples Monday Edition

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I loathe Mondays. Especially Mondays like this Monday, where I have to sit at a desk for 5 hours with nothing to do. Let me rephrase, nothing interesting to do. My brain is a pile of mush. My super-educated, top 10% of class, workaholic brain is BORED!!! I need substance, or at least something to do! I could have gone to the Manhattan VoTech and had a job like this one!

My Monday grumples today are threefold.

1) My job makes me want to drink heavily so my brain can feel like it really is being used up to its potential.

2) My sister made me feel like absolute crap about my dog. She also thinks that my Molly will decapitate her children and chew off my hand while I’m sleeping. Quote – “They have a bad reputation for a reason.” Yes, because people who claim they have a bad reputation tell other people they have a bad reputation, who tell other people, etc, etc.

3) Graduation was this weekend, which once again made me feel old. Everyone (parents) was asking me what I’m doing a year after my graduation day. I answer the phone in a cheerful voice. I’m so glad I spent all that $$$$ on my overpriced education. Maybe I can get a job as a checker at Wal-Mart next!

But an upper to this downer of an entry is the joy of this weekend. My friends are the absolute best, and I’m so proud of them. I’m especially proud of Amber who, during her graduation keg party, lost her dancing shoes, only to find them again, putting her back on top of her ‘dancing game.’ Thank you for dancing shoes. Thank you for boob shirts. Thank you for sparkly boob shirts that attract drunk boyfriends. Thank you for wine in a box, the OC and a bed of good buddies. Thank you for pitas. Thank you for cheese bread. Thank you for summer beer and random shots of apple flavored liquor. Thank you to Mike Sukup, the friendliest bartender in town. May the good lord Kevin Costner bless you all. If you build it, he will come. Amen.

Stay tuned for grad pictures! If you read it, I will post.

S&B Golf Tourny Jitters. Oh Crap.

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I hate khakis. I really do. I never thought I did, but I do. Khaki’s make me look like I have an ass the size of a small eastern European country. They also make me look like a bagger at a grocery store (sorry Hayley, but they do). I also hate forcasters who promise rain on the day of a dreaded outdoor event, and then THERE IS NO RAIN!!! Nice and cloudy, but NO FREAKING RAIN!!! Now the question is, do I hate golf? This I do not know, but I do know that any sport that requires you to wear khaki’s and polo shirts is a sport that should be banned from my life.

Today, I will embarrass myself in front of a bunch of engineers with little or no sense of humor. For the love of God, where is the RAIN??!!!

The Map as of 10:18 a.m. We leave for the club at 11:00. Can’t it hurry up a bit?!

Rant.

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Why do people feel the need to offer advice and/or critiques when they are not needed, wanted, or appreciated?! Just because you have owned a dog or your neighbor owned a dog or your cousin’s sister’s baby-sitter’s roommate owned a dog does not mean you are the world’s foremost expert on canines!!! I really don’t care if you think Rott’s are scary and mean. It’s not your dog and you’ve never even seen her, so chill the fuck out! And just because your wife can afford to stay home with your kids/dogs/chickens does not mean that all dogs must be outside all day in order to live a humane life. There are many people on the planet who, heaven forbid, own dogs and…WORK!!! The horror, oh the sadness of it all.

Get over yourself and understand that just because people don’t do it your way doesn’t mean it won’t work. In fact, it seems to be working. And this dog is a helluva lot happier today than she was yesterday stuck in a pen with 20 other dogs. I promise, we’ll take good care of her.

NOTE: These comments are comments that have been building from several comments made by the commenters about topics that drive me BANANAS!!! For example, banning Judy Blume books, shooting every animal that moves, President Dumb-Ass and gay marriage. Sometimes, you just gotta vent.

I need a snack…

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When I was in Italy I gained a good 25 lbs. No, I am not exaggerating and I’m not overcompensating like many females do when it comes to weight gain. And no, I’m not saying it just so people will tell me I’m not fat.

You see, in Italy (on top of all the great food and wine) there are huge amounts of dolci, otherwise known as artery-clogging sweets. Gelato, the most delicious of all ice-cream, was my arch nemisis. It usually won.

Hello, my name is Megan and I’m a snacker. I love candy, treats, greasy foods and anything with sugar.

Literally, I was getting on the plane from Portugal to Amsterdam and I almost shit myself when I learned there would be no snacks on the plane! “NO SNACKS! WHAT KIND OF COMMUNIST COUNTRY IS THIS!!!”

I know that my obsessive problems with food are mostly genetic. My mother is the queen of bad eating and slow metabolisms. She used to be one of those “tiny people” who could never gain weight. 700 McChicken nuggets later…it’s a different story.

Today my boss noticed my crabby demenor and brought me back a bag of Snickers Poppables. She knows the way to my heart is through my tummy. I have almost eaten the whole bag. Chubbs, it seems, has returned. Now I just have to make sure I don’t become the McChicken Princess.

Freaks Are More Fun

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Today I had a moment of enlightenment.

I awoke this morning and got into a little tiff with the sig other about something that he had absolutely no control over. I realized that he did not understand that I wasn’t upset with him, but the situation, and then spent the next 20 minutes bothering him to see if he was now upset with me because of my bad reaction to the news that was in no way his fault or under his control. He proceded to get annoyed with me and leave.

Then, while I’m at work fuming because “why, oh why, won’t he understand me?!” he calls around and gets the whole thing figured out, even offering to sacrifice a fun vacation to make me happy.

He then sends me an e-mail saying I am beautiful.

Now I am fucking tired because I spent half of the day pissed at no one, but just pissed at everyone, but not really pissed, just annoyed! (Does your head hurt yet?)

It’s true, I sweat the small stuff. And I have ADHD.

But at least I embrace it!

NOTE: I just thought of the best word to describe me…FREAKASAURUS. I’m copywriting that one bitches!

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