- Oct 9, 1999
- 12,513
- 49
- 91
Ki$$ my a$$ if you have a problem with it!
[RANT]I went on a trip to see some friends this weekend. That part, at least was cool. I drove down to there house (~250 miles) to pick them up, then we went to one of their friends' houses to have a pool party most of the weekend. I was going to do a little work on their PC for them as well.
The first problem arises when friends announce that they now have 5 fricking cats (it used to be one.) Now, I don't mind cats in short doses, but I am deathly allergic to them. Confined to a short space with one cat for a short time makes my eyes water and makes it hard to breath. Five cats make me wheeze like an asthmatic freight train. So I stopped at a CVS and got some antihistimines, which helped slightly. Of course, it didn't help that the guest bedroom is the preferred place for the kitties to hang out. So I'm laying in an uncomfortable guest bed (more on that later), and every thirty seconds, I hear this wham as a feline projectile slams into the closed door, trying to open the door. Right as I'm getting to sleep, the damn cats make it in the room, so I'm jumping out of bad, trying to herd these f*cking cats out of the room. I'm grabbing one in each hand and pitching them out of the room as fast I can. I do this for like five minutes as the cats are having great fun, dashing back in as fast as I pitch them out. Finally, I manage to get them out, and close the door. This time, I lean my laptop bag against the door so the little b*stards can't get in. They headbutt the door for about an hour before giving up. I get maybe three hours of sleep, on what has to be the most Godforsakenly uncomfortable bed I have ever slept on. So of course when I get out of bed in the morning, my lower back is killing me. No big deal, I'm used to my waterbed, so I can understand that I might not sleep well in a regular bed when I'm not used to it.
So anyway, we go to the friend's house with the pool, and we proceed to doing party things . . . it was pretty fun, they had a keg, but of course I felt like a fifth wheel because everyone there was either married or had their significant other with them.
So as the party is going on, I'm observing what royal jerks some of these guys are, and how they're treating their girlfriends. I eventually end up talking with some of the G/Fs and wives when their hubbies and B/Fs pass out by the keg . . . so on top of being stuffed up because of the f*cking cats, I'm depressed because these insensitive pricks are going to get some and I'm going to be sleeping on my uncomfortable bed listening to cats slamming into the door.
So anyway, the rest of the weekend is pretty noneventful, I get the computer up and running and come home. On the way, while I'm blowing my nose every five seconds and hacking up cat-hair infested phlegm, I'm pondering just why any self-respecting woman would want to associate with a guy who a) drinks until he falls unconscious, b) brags about the size of her breasts in front of her, and c) sneaks up behind her in the pool while she's talking to her G/Fs and dunks her. I do not reach a conclusive answer.
So, when I get home, thinking that it could not possibly get any worse, I walk in the door, too tired to unload the car. I walk in the house and basically get ready to sleep. As soon as the light is out I notice the light on the answering machine blinking. (On a side note, does anyone else get that warm, fuzzy feeling when you've got a message on the machine? It didn't last long this time.) So I listen to it . . . two messages. The first one is from Saturday, my Dad saying, "Come to Sunday dinner, talk to you later." I grumble to myself and delete the message. I told him Wednesday that I was going out of town this weekend when he asked if I could show him some stuff on his computer. The trip was my excuse for putting him off until later. So, what do I get for my second message? I five-minute lecture from my father like I was eight f*cking years old. "We're not disappointed that you couldn't come, but you could have at least called to let us know you wouldn't be here, yadda yadda." He left the message at 11:30 Sunday night.
Grumble. I laid down and tried to sleep, but everytime I started to fall asleep the damn wheezing noise from my chest woke me up.
[/RANT]
Ah, well. At least my back feels better now.
[RANT]I went on a trip to see some friends this weekend. That part, at least was cool. I drove down to there house (~250 miles) to pick them up, then we went to one of their friends' houses to have a pool party most of the weekend. I was going to do a little work on their PC for them as well.
The first problem arises when friends announce that they now have 5 fricking cats (it used to be one.) Now, I don't mind cats in short doses, but I am deathly allergic to them. Confined to a short space with one cat for a short time makes my eyes water and makes it hard to breath. Five cats make me wheeze like an asthmatic freight train. So I stopped at a CVS and got some antihistimines, which helped slightly. Of course, it didn't help that the guest bedroom is the preferred place for the kitties to hang out. So I'm laying in an uncomfortable guest bed (more on that later), and every thirty seconds, I hear this wham as a feline projectile slams into the closed door, trying to open the door. Right as I'm getting to sleep, the damn cats make it in the room, so I'm jumping out of bad, trying to herd these f*cking cats out of the room. I'm grabbing one in each hand and pitching them out of the room as fast I can. I do this for like five minutes as the cats are having great fun, dashing back in as fast as I pitch them out. Finally, I manage to get them out, and close the door. This time, I lean my laptop bag against the door so the little b*stards can't get in. They headbutt the door for about an hour before giving up. I get maybe three hours of sleep, on what has to be the most Godforsakenly uncomfortable bed I have ever slept on. So of course when I get out of bed in the morning, my lower back is killing me. No big deal, I'm used to my waterbed, so I can understand that I might not sleep well in a regular bed when I'm not used to it.
So anyway, we go to the friend's house with the pool, and we proceed to doing party things . . . it was pretty fun, they had a keg, but of course I felt like a fifth wheel because everyone there was either married or had their significant other with them.
So as the party is going on, I'm observing what royal jerks some of these guys are, and how they're treating their girlfriends. I eventually end up talking with some of the G/Fs and wives when their hubbies and B/Fs pass out by the keg . . . so on top of being stuffed up because of the f*cking cats, I'm depressed because these insensitive pricks are going to get some and I'm going to be sleeping on my uncomfortable bed listening to cats slamming into the door.
So anyway, the rest of the weekend is pretty noneventful, I get the computer up and running and come home. On the way, while I'm blowing my nose every five seconds and hacking up cat-hair infested phlegm, I'm pondering just why any self-respecting woman would want to associate with a guy who a) drinks until he falls unconscious, b) brags about the size of her breasts in front of her, and c) sneaks up behind her in the pool while she's talking to her G/Fs and dunks her. I do not reach a conclusive answer.
So, when I get home, thinking that it could not possibly get any worse, I walk in the door, too tired to unload the car. I walk in the house and basically get ready to sleep. As soon as the light is out I notice the light on the answering machine blinking. (On a side note, does anyone else get that warm, fuzzy feeling when you've got a message on the machine? It didn't last long this time.) So I listen to it . . . two messages. The first one is from Saturday, my Dad saying, "Come to Sunday dinner, talk to you later." I grumble to myself and delete the message. I told him Wednesday that I was going out of town this weekend when he asked if I could show him some stuff on his computer. The trip was my excuse for putting him off until later. So, what do I get for my second message? I five-minute lecture from my father like I was eight f*cking years old. "We're not disappointed that you couldn't come, but you could have at least called to let us know you wouldn't be here, yadda yadda." He left the message at 11:30 Sunday night.
Grumble. I laid down and tried to sleep, but everytime I started to fall asleep the damn wheezing noise from my chest woke me up.
[/RANT]
Ah, well. At least my back feels better now.
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