Sweety has mentioned that I’m an extremist. I’m either off or on. Going at whatever 100 mph or hiding under the covers. You could call the terror alert level here at orange as of late.

Things previously posted about have come to fruition. How am I dealing with it? Well, for a few weeks, I just didn’t do it. Then I realized that no matter what I say, I really can’t afford to get canned. Not being one to halfway do shit – I’m doing my best to just do it.

Thank you, Xanax. Without you, I am nothing. (Really. Nothing. Because those things make me want to eat. I ran out of food at work the other day and ate a pencil sharpener and a pad of post-it notes. True story.) I only eat them on workdays and Sweety hates it. But they keep me from crying at work. It freaks him out when I come home and am emotionless. He prefers cunty-goodness-Anna to blahed-the-fuck-out-Anna. He’s crazy.

To divert us from me becoming a pillhead at work (Oh! A friend at work got fired/quit on Friday! My workday has gotten even shittier. I did not know that was even possible!) or biting family members’ heads off in my spare time – here is some doggy goodness.

This is Stinky Dog loving some dog ice cream. I didn’t know she’d eat something cold but since she enjoys it, I’m going to start freezing some broth for her. Notice the hint of tongue? I am a huge fan of peeks of dog tongue. It’s like it’s something that you aren’t supposed to see.

And here is Tiny Dog being a little asshole. She wasn’t too fond of the ice cream but she didn’t eat it until Stinky finished hers and came sniffing around. Then she just gobbled it down. No licking. I bet that bitch got one hell of a brain freeze.

This is her little snaggletooth. Sweety says we should put a brace on it to straighten it out but I think it adds character.

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I fell asleep on the couch this evening and woke up one cranky fucking bitch.

Stinky Dog got the ball rolling by pissing on the carpet. Stinky, it’s a good thing that I love you so much or I’d have kicked a hole in you.

Had to go to the store for milk and stopped to mail my Mother’s Day card. The stamp machine at our rotten little post office was out of order. Surprise, surprise. Was able to buy a book of stamps at the pharmacy. Had no idea until checkout that a book of 12 stamps would be $8.40. Seventy fucking cents a stamp! Fuck you, CVS. Fuck you and your stamp price mark-up in the ass with a dry brick.

Got in my car and the fuel light came on. There’s all kinds of road construction going on and it was an almighty trial to just get into the damned gas station. Then I squirted gas on my foot. I swear, I’d have set myself on fire if I’d have had a lighter.

Decided that maybe NOW was the time to get some prescriptions refilled. But I can’t find them. Great! Now I get to call my doctor to get replacement scripts and he will know how long I’ve gone without taking things and chew my ass out.

And under it all is the reminder that I have to go to work tomorrow and do shit that I absolutely do not agree with. Do it or get fired. I fucking hate this.

The Fury is here for a visit. May I have mercy on everyone.

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Today I volunteered at the Book Fair at the boys’ school.

I heard a lady list all of her ailments (hysterectomy, hernia, gall bladder removal, aching knees…the list goes on!) to every adult that walked through the door. I was ready to poke my eardrums out.

Do you know what I had ready for her every time she told me a sickness snippet? A Tiny Dog tale. Because I know that she had to be as interested in my motherfucking dog as I was in her numerous surgeries.

It was the longest three hours of my life.

7 Comments | In: daily blah, excuse me while i scream | | #

He is addicted to using baking soda as an antacid. We buy it in 2 pound boxes. A few days ago – he ran out. It was bedtime and he was freaking out because he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to sleep through his heartburn or whatever if he couldn’t have some before bed.

So he peeked in the cabinet where the box stays. Eureka! The previous box had leaked out some during its stay with us!

He scraped it up and picked out whatever grub that was mixed in with it the best that he could. He was so happy. Like a crackhead who found a rock hidden in the couch cushion.

It was just enough to mix up and drink.

Gross. Gross. Gross.

I offered to go to the store and get a new box for him but he declined. He is brave and unafraid of eating termite eggs.

22 Comments | In: excuse me while i scream, husband | | #