A coupla whiney girl things that I need to vent.

Tin Foil.  It’s my current life’s obsession and mystery.  They can put a monkey in space, a man on the moon, invent the internet, have people talking through microphones across the world – but cannot come up with a simpler way to utilise the offending silver paper to wrap a salad bowl?  Let me ask you something.

  • Have you ever tried to tear tin foil in a straight line having only the use of one hand*? IMPOSSIBLE.
  • Have you ever tried to cut tin foil with a pair of scissors? INSTANT FAIL.

Truly.  It’s the most annoying thing ever.  Why not make it easy man?  Why put it in such a stupid little box with stupid faux little “teeth” if they don’t work?

Flowers. What a waste of money.  I understand it’s a symbol of compassion and empathy for your situation, but why?

  1. They rot in days.
  2. They then stink.
  3. They’re a pain in the ass to get rid of (who fits a whole boquet of blomme in the bin anyway?)
  4. They require a) water (admin) and then b) trimming (admin) followed by c) actual contact with slimy stems when you throw them away (double admin.  And ewww)
  5. Don’t send me flowers.  I hate them.  Rather send airtime.  Or, I dunno.  Condoms…

My Mother. She’s done this thing.  For years.  She’ll start talking about someone as if you know them.  When you remind her you don’t she’ll be all “oh man, but she’s Soandsos mother.  She saw you in the spar that one time ten years ago.  Anyway, you’ll never guess…” And then she’s off.  Unstoppable.  It drives me batshit crazy.  Fifteen minutes later I’ll still be sitting there, missing most of the information, trying to fathom who the hell she is talking about.  In the end I feel dumb and that’s not cool, Mom.  Not cool.

Disrespecting my personal bubble space. Firstly, I’m back in my family home.  With 4 kids in it.  Hasn’t been like this since I was, like, 18 or something.  We’re all grown up except for Wokkie and we’re battling.  The boys aren’t small enough for me to pulverize like I used to. And the gang up on me.  And they fart and shout and play PS2 all the time.  But worst of all, they won’t allow me to watch E! Entertainment.

Then on top of that, I have a small issue where I’m trying to break up a four year long friendship with someone I shouldn’t have stayed with in the first place.  And it’s not being respected.  So not only is my room in jeapordy of filthy boy socks or the lounge covered in junk food and a million coffee cups, but my head is filled with the words from emails begging me to talk, to not do this, to not break a heart.  It’s over.  Why can’t people accept it when I need space?

/end rant.

*apologises profusely, doesn’t really mean it but says it to be polite*


  1. angel says:

    Darling Shebeeliciousness… my magic sitcom wand is still unreplaced after I sat on it trying to fix something Sweets- if it wasn’t I’d wave it right now and fix everything for you on 24 minutes flat!

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