So, unsurprisingly enough, I've been kind of annoyed by a few things lately.
I tried telling Michael about it, but he didn't see how any of it was annoying.
Which annoyed me even more.
(Sometimes when I try and share things like this with him he just looks at me like I'm a crazy stranger. The person you are afraid to make eye contact with on the street. It's kind of a look of disbelief with a little regret mixed in. It sort of confirms my suspicions that when he proposed to me three and a half years ago it was really just a psychotic episode on the top of Pilot Mountain, brought on by exertion and dehydration. But then he didn't know how to take it back. So here we are...)
Anywho, I needed someone to validate my constant state of annoyance as of late.
So I, lovingly, turn to you.
1. The Direct TV commercial.
This lady is sitting on a stool with music playing.
Telling me about how,
"See we get a lot of tornadoes 'round here."
She sucks me in with her warm old-ladyness, and I'm prepared to be touched and inspired.
Moved by the Direct TV commercial.
She tells me about how her best friend lost everything.
I'm feeling so bad at this point. I'm really sorry lady; I didn't want that to happen to your friend!
But then I see it turning around.
"When it came time to rebuild..."
(At this point I think she's going to say something about how she helped her friend dig the foundation of her new house. Or plant a commemorative bush. Or dig through the rubble to find her old photo albums.)
"When it came time to rebuild, I told her about Direct TV."
"And now I save ten dollars on my bill every month."
You're not her friend. You're a selfish hose beast.
Remind me never to call that lady when I'm sick and need a friend.
She'll harvest my organs and sell them on the black market.
Direct TV Fail.
2. Jessica Simpson.
Why does she have to be the new Weight Watchers Spokesperson?
I like her better post-baby fat.
I think everyone likes her better chunky. Especially pregnant women.
Pregnant women everywhere could look at a picture of pregnant Jessica Simpson and think to themselves,
"Well, at least I didn't get that big."
She is relatable this way. I appreciate her double chins.
Now they are going to tan and tone her until we can no longer relate with the fact that she just had a baby and looks like a real woman.
That annoys me.
And God help me, if Adele turns out to the be the next spokesperson for NutriSystem or Jenny Craig I'm going to put a gun in my mouth.
3. Preschool "Volunteer Lists."
Henry goes to preschool twice a week from 9-noon. He LOVES it.
I LOVE it.
This is time I have to clean the house and run errands that don't really work with him in tow.
I can browse.
There is no browsing with Henry.
The scene is Preschool Open House, last week:
Teacher: "Here's our Parent Volunteer List." (thrusts list in my face.) " I know I always want to be involved in my child's classroom." (Narrows eyes at me).
We are now locked in an epic battle of Good Mom Chicken.
And I lose.
So I sign up for "Play Dough Sculpture Day" and "Prep-Parent."
(I don't even know what a 'Prep Parent' is, but apparently I am one now.)
I'm sorry, I love Henry more than life itself, but I'm paying you to put that Early Childhood Education degree to good use and stimulate his two-year old brain for 6 hours each week.
I'm responsible for the other 162.
Can a mom just not have a fucking break once in a while?
I mean, damn.
(And yes I really did do the math.)
Anyhow, I will be present for Play Dough Sculpture Day.
And, make no mistake, I will probably bronze that play dough "sculpture."
But it doesn't mean that I wouldn't have rather had three hours alone in Target.
(And by alone, I mean with a 12 week old infant that has to be fed every two hours, precisely, or her head spins around.)
3. My neighbor.
Fall is approaching.
My very favorite time of year.
Instead of being excited, I am dreading my damned neighbor and his damned leaf blower.
He blows leaves until there are no more leaves in a 50 mile radius.
Four hour leaf blowing marathons.
So instead of planning my cute fall boot wardrobe, my time is once again occupied by plotting his tragic, untimely and not-at-all-suspicious death.
4. People that do anything outside between the hours of 1:00 pm and 3:30 pm.
Anyone that does anything within earshot of my house that has the remote possibility of waking up my children from a nap, is immediately my nemesis.
I don't care if you are giving CPR to a quadriplegic veterinarian fireman in my driveway.
If you wake up Henry, I'll kill you.
5. No-Nap Days.
In the words of my good friend;
"If they don't sleep, I can't do this."