Screw Giving Thanks. Tell Someone to Go to Hell this Thanksgiving.

  • I'll take PMS over Love My Dick Syndrome any day. At least PMS only lasts a week. LMDS is a lifelong sensory and emotional disorder. LMDS may, one day, be recognized as an official form of mental retardation which is easily diagnosed by careful observation of how many times a man grabs his crotch an hour. The loss of payroll dollars personally incurred by me directly due to those suffering from this ridiculously rampant mental illness is untold. It bothers me less to pay my taxes.
  • Proof that an accent can make anything sound sinfully delicious. When I got on the elevator, an Awesome Aussie was already on. He looked at me and asked, "Going Down?" All I could hear was music. Never had love in an elevator before. I'm officially putting it on my Bucket List. 
  • Wondering why it is that I can go to the store with makeup on and pick up a bottle of wine and I never get carded? If I go with no makeup on, I always get carded. Is it the eyeliner? If so, I wish someone had of told me that about 20 years ago. I would have made out like a raccoon with some Boone's Farm.
  • Little You's room is so messy that I am currently worried about the safety of my future grandchildren. They may get sick with some antibiotic resistant illness from her home. Or, suffocate in the clothes on the floor. Today, even the turtles (Larry, Curly and Moe) came to the side of the tank to beg me for relief. I'm pretty sure I saw one of them mouth, "Help me." The bright side is that MacGyver could build a spaceship from all of the crap she's hoarding. The downside is that not even a homeless person would be willing to spend the night in there.
  • I had forgotten how good it feels to tell someone to go straight to hell. I had the opportunity this week. I challenge each of you in the Giggling Grasshopper Gaggle to find someone this week and tell them just that. Find someone deserving and just tell them. Screw giving thanks. Report back and let me know how it goes.
  • I am seriously considering enacting the 6-month no dating cycle again. Why? You'll just have to wait until I'm ready to blog about it. Until then, feel free to speculate and gossip.
  • I don't really approve of male prostitution. If he ain't going to give me that stuff for free, I don't want it anyway. I don't have a problem with female prostitution. If you've ever been married or in a serious relationship, you were just a legalized prostitute anyway. The Grasshopper doesn't believe in being a hypocrite.
  • Can you say awkward? Little You once told me that her gym teacher and I use the same gynecologist. How in the hell did that come up during gym class? I'm thinking perhaps while the teacher was teaching them push-ups? That was months ago and it still crosses my mind from time to time.
  • Speaking of hypocrites, why do men even attempt to keep things they have or haven't done a secret? Give me an hour on a computer and then try to pull that crap on me. Oh what a tangled web we weave... That's why I carry some Raid in my purse. F'ing spiders! (Get used to it. Of all the words in the English language, that one is my favorite. It's kind of like chicken. It's good with everything.)

1 comment: