It's 2:22am CST and I'm hooking my horse up to the Bitching Post*
*maybe I'll explain this title someday. Right now I just don't --bleepin'-- want to.
(CAUTION: RANT ALERT)
Why is it that people, guys especially, think it's cute to ask a gal to show them a certain part of their anatomy when they're drunk? If this were in person, the guy would be in the hospital and I would be in the Oklahoma County lockup because with the mood I'm in, some guy might find himself singing soprano (and I don't mean Tony and the family from the TV show, either).
I can count on less than one hand the men who have had the privledge of seeing said part of my anatomy. It's a very exclusive club.
And, why is it that when I write to all these radio stations about working for them, they don't bother to write back? If I suck, or I'm just not right for your station, format, etc., tell me so! I'm a big grrl, I can handle a little bad news now and again. How am I going to get the experience if no one will give me a bleepin' chance?! Do I have to be a bleepin' pain in the ass?
And, why does my ex boyfriend instant message me to tell me what he's doing in that apartment in the middle of bleepin' nowhere, MN while his ex wife/roommate is at work? Like I give a care that he's cleaning the kitchen or scarfing down a whole banana creme pie (no wonder he's put on so much weight!) or taking his $400 pit bull out to relieve himself?
And, why is it that my mother complains about being broke, then wants a $5 pack of coffin nails like right this very second, then gets mad when I don't go out right this very second? Doesn't she realize that she could save money by quitting? No, of course not!
And, why is it that ... no, never mind. I'm not going to rant about that. It's probably all my fault anyway.
/END RANT
Do I feel better? Not really. I just have a headache. I want to cry, but I can't right now.
'night all.
And that's all from where I sit.
--MorelaterZ--
(CAUTION: RANT ALERT)
Why is it that people, guys especially, think it's cute to ask a gal to show them a certain part of their anatomy when they're drunk? If this were in person, the guy would be in the hospital and I would be in the Oklahoma County lockup because with the mood I'm in, some guy might find himself singing soprano (and I don't mean Tony and the family from the TV show, either).
I can count on less than one hand the men who have had the privledge of seeing said part of my anatomy. It's a very exclusive club.
And, why is it that when I write to all these radio stations about working for them, they don't bother to write back? If I suck, or I'm just not right for your station, format, etc., tell me so! I'm a big grrl, I can handle a little bad news now and again. How am I going to get the experience if no one will give me a bleepin' chance?! Do I have to be a bleepin' pain in the ass?
And, why does my ex boyfriend instant message me to tell me what he's doing in that apartment in the middle of bleepin' nowhere, MN while his ex wife/roommate is at work? Like I give a care that he's cleaning the kitchen or scarfing down a whole banana creme pie (no wonder he's put on so much weight!) or taking his $400 pit bull out to relieve himself?
And, why is it that my mother complains about being broke, then wants a $5 pack of coffin nails like right this very second, then gets mad when I don't go out right this very second? Doesn't she realize that she could save money by quitting? No, of course not!
And, why is it that ... no, never mind. I'm not going to rant about that. It's probably all my fault anyway.
/END RANT
Do I feel better? Not really. I just have a headache. I want to cry, but I can't right now.
'night all.
And that's all from where I sit.
--MorelaterZ--
My name is Stef, and I approve this post. Posted @ 2:22 AM
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