You Know Me I Hate Everyone

I have been in the worst mood for the past two days. There is nothing that is making me happy. There really isn’t much reason for me to be so cranky I just am.

The snow sucks. I curse the day I moved back here. What was I thinking? I am starting to think that panhandling and living under an overpass on the 405 would have been a better idea.

I hate the woman at the check out stand in Stop & Shop who can’t figure out how to use the credit card machine. Five times it takes her before her transaction is finally complete. How does this woman function in her daily life if she can follow some simple directions?

The next guy in line has to argue about the price of his steak. He laughs.

“I was so irritated with the woman before me for taking so long and now I am holding up the line.”

Thank god there is someone standing in between us. If she wasn’t there I surely I would have hit him. Instead I try to burn a hole in his head with my stare.

My life is like Groundhog Day. It’s the same day repeating over and over and over. If it weren’t for television programming I wouldn’t know what day it is. This morning we got more fucking snow, which means another hour plus ride into work dodging plows and ass holes driving SUVs.

Co-workers are the worst. Not only am I a glorified telemarketer I have to put up with these assholes. You aren’t at home in your living room please STOP singing. I know your mother probably didn’t give you enough attention when you were a child but I’m not here to help you make up for that, OK?

Yesterday black pants, tan shoes and a navy blue blazer, today black pants, tan shoes and navy blue blazer it’s only his second day. I know I am going have to stab him in the parking lot to put us both out of our misery.

The quote of the day, “Well you know they are overly verbose.” I can’t make this shit up.

American Idol sucks. Why am I wasting my time watching this crap?

Stop the insanity. I can’t stop eating. I have made a conscious effort to be good but it’s been such a struggle. Why do I know every place that sells Ho Ho’s on the 25 mile drive to work?

There will never be a quite night in my apartment. The Brazilians who live up there constantly stomp on their wood floors. If it’s not the stomping is the stereo blaring. My friend has offered to have a member of the Danvers Police stop by. I am afraid that will only make the situation worse.

Maybe I just need to get laid.