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November 30, 2005
tired of the assholes
So at seven this morning Grumpy, Little Bear and I headed out to the truck so they could drive me to work before heading off to pre-school. When I stepped up to the driver's side door, I realized the door was ajar.
God damn it, not freakin' again!!!
This is the third time in two years that some stupid, asshole, lowlife, dickweed, shit-for-brains, dickhead has broken into our piece o' crap, 14 year old Explorer. So much for living in a gated condo community.
And I know the doors were locked, just like the last two times. I know they were locked because I am anal retentive and always double check to make sure before I head into the house. They must have one of those lock poppers, because nothing was broken or jimmied.
They rifled through everything, throwing things all over place. I wish I'd left a dirty diaper in there! Apparently we keep nothing of value in our truck because they stole a total of about twelve cents and a Bic lighter. Big haul, huh?
They must be quite stupid because I would have stolen the car seat, the stroller, the tools and most importantly the disabled parking placard. All things I could probably sell for some good money. I am happy they are too stupid to realize how stupid they are.
I wish I could install a video cam or silent alarm or something that would allow me to catch these thieving rats in the act. God help them if I ever nabbed one. They would bleed. And be sorry. So sorry.
Until then to quell my anger, I have to believe that Karma will get them. And get them good.
After returning order to the inside of the truck and cussing the little buggers out we got on the road. I kept hearing a weird squeaky sound. I said to Grumpy, "Did you hear that? What was that noise? What did those little bastards do to my truck?"
Grumpy, as Grumpy tends to do, gave me a grumpy answer of something like "I hear it but how am I supposed to know what it is?"
Just then, I turned a corner, hit a bump and the hood popped up. The little pricks had popped my hood! The nerve. Sure, go ahead steal my oil leaking engine with 135k miles on it. So we had to pull over so Grumpy could get out and close it.
I would like to thank cops of Seattle for being so apathetic and the laws for being so lenient that no one gives two shits if someone breaks into or steals a car. Thank you very much.
side note - did you know that rifling(one f)means, to search with intent to steal and riffling (two f's) means, to leaf through hastily. I did not, until today.
Posted by bugg at 12:44 PM | Comments (4)
November 28, 2005
which is worse?
Working at a job you hate, with people you love or working at a job you love, with people you hate?
Posted by bugg at 08:15 AM | Comments (8)
November 22, 2005
thank god i'm not in high school anymore day
Meloknee has convinced me to participate in a new national holiday. Yes, today is "Thank God I'm Not in High School Anymore Day."
So in honor of such an important day, I give to you,
Bugg in high school, mostly at nasty school dances. I'm not even going to bother commenting on the hair or outfits. It was the 80's, everyone looked this stupid.
Don't laugh too hard!
Homecoming, 1985 – freshman year
First ever dance. My friend and I did NOT plan to wear matching outfits. When she showed up we were both like, OH MY GOD, NOOOOO! And I didn't like my date. I liked hers. Mullets were very popular with soccer players in Ohio in 1985.
Sadie Hawkins, 1985
Nate seems thrilled to be my date. Not. That was the first time I ever got up enough balls to ask someone out. Although, I liked Nate as a friend, I really liked John Porter, and still wish I had just asked him instead. Sigh.
Homecoming 1986
I had only lived in Michigan for about two months at this point. Heather was also a new girl from Ohio so we became fast friends. Sean was a nice guy and I really broke his heart. Mean ole Bugg.
Christmas Dance, 1987
I went to this dance with my friend, Dave. It is unusual to find a guy as short as I am. About this outfit I will say - Joan Collins called, she wants her Dynasty wardrobe back!
Prom, 1987
Pretty in Pink inspired joy. Dave and I broke up a week before the dance. He eventually ended up marrying the only other girl in school with my same first name. She was my diabolical opposite and dumb as a bowl of mice.
Prom 88 -
I had just broken (stupidly) up with my boyfriend, Brian so my friend, Pete was kind enough to escort me to my junior prom. We had a good time even if I had a terrible allergy attack and the chaperones at the dance thought I was drunk and or stoned. Those particular chaperones hated me as they were newly ex'd - Brian's parents. Dad was an ex-marine and teacher at our school. Mom was the school counselor. They thought I was too wild and spoiled for their perfect son. They were right.
I'm not putting in prom 1989 photos because I didn't want to go. I had recently broken up with my boyfriend Kevin, who I caught porking a slutty junior named Julie. My friends made me go to prom, and my date was with Michelle's brother. I had never even met him before as he had been recently been asked to leave the Navy. I'll tell you it's not that fun being the single girl on a formal date with a stranger you aren't attracted to, with three other couples who decided to skip the dance so they could go straight to the hotel to get wasted and get it on. Sweet.
Ms. St. Joe Contest, 1989
Could I be a little more tan? Is that possible? It was like January or something, in Michigan. All these girls were my friends and lots of fun, except girl in the middle. Total BITCH!!! Kristen, where ever you are I hope you finally pulled that bitch stick outta your ass!
Posted by bugg at 09:18 AM | Comments (4)
November 18, 2005
not that there's anything wrong with that
If I were into girls, I would be all warm and fuzzy for Katherine Moennig, who plays Shane on the L Word.
Meeeeow.
There is just something about that girl.
Posted by bugg at 03:24 PM | Comments (5)
November 16, 2005
them's fighting words
I am in the mood for a nice, big, ass kicking, bitch slapping, fight. I woke up in the mood and as the day has passed the feeling has not subsided.
I haven't been in a good fight since my days of hanging out at our favorite dance club, the Vogue.
I got in a handful of good fights there. Once I pushed this bitch so hard, after she stomped on my feet for about a half hour and I asked her to stop politely several times, she flew across the room a good fifteen feet before landing hard on her ass. Then she went to the bathroom and cried, waaa, bitch.
I used to be a lot meaner and I have mellowed out considerably, but once in awhile my old angry self pops up to say hello.
Ahhhh, good times.
Posted by bugg at 03:53 PM | Comments (4)
November 09, 2005
snorting pixie sticks
Someone brought in a plastic cauldron full of leftover Halloween candy and everyone is all excited about the freakin pop rocks. Gross. I'll take a salt lick over candy any day. So they all got talking about candy they love, like Fun Dip (I don't even know what that is) and Pixie Sticks, ack.
My coworker, not to mention any names, just told me that when she was in high school she talked some of her friends into snorting Pixie Sticks. Dear God!
She also said it was great and that not only does it clear up your sinuses but you can spit in color. And why would you want to spit anyway, nasty?
Even if I loved Pixie Sticks (ack - never) I would never think to snort that crap up my nose. Of course this may also explain why I am not a coke addict.
Ok, now they are telling me Gobstoppers are a real thing! And that they actually like eating Twizzlers, it's like eating candles!
Am I the freak or are they?
It's me isn't it?
God, I had a sheltered childhood.
Posted by bugg at 03:10 PM | Comments (9)
November 07, 2005
you make me gag
I have to say that there is a phenomenon that affects some pregnant women. I like to call it "shut up or I'm gonna puke". It is not morning sickness or anything like that. Instead the mere thought of, smell of or someone talking about anything remotely gross makes you gag. Repeatedly. And the more you see it, think about it, smell it - whatever it may be, the worse it gets. In some cases you can gag so much you actually throw up. It is not a very pleasant experience. Not at all.
It affects me on a daily basis, several times. Sometimes just the thought of brushing my teeth can make me gag.
The other night, little bear woke up in the middle of the night crying and he was so upset that he threw up. In my bed. On my pillow. Grumpy had to strip and sanitize the room and make the smell go away before I could finally come out of the bathroom.
The next morning at 5:30 when I got up, I wandered in the dark toward the kitchen, where I proceeded to step barefoot into a combo pile of cat furball and vomit. Gag. Gag. Gag.
After I showered, I was finally able to brush my teeth, gag, gag. I went back out to the kitchen where low and behold one of the cats was having a case of the trots. Lovely. She left a trail all the way down the hall. I had to clean it up pronto. I actually cleaned it all up and disposed of it and defunked the hallway before the thought of it was too much for my gag addled brain. It wasn't pretty.
Right now just the word gag is making me gag. Ack.
Posted by bugg at 03:31 PM | Comments (5)
November 03, 2005
Jesus loves you
Oh, I do so loves me some church sign generator.
Posted by bugg at 02:11 PM | Comments (2)