Thursday, July 12, 2012

My rant is a day late.

I was so caught up in thinking about my sissy yesterday, that I completely forgot that it was Wednesday - Rant Day.  AND to make it all the more irksome, today is my sister's birthday of whom I wrote about yesterday.  Sooo what I will do is write as if today is Wednesday and pretend that I posted yesterday's blog today.  I'm confusing myself as I'm typing but yet it all made sense as I started this diatribe.  Just try to keep up with me if you can.  Alriggghty then.

My first rant is why do mosquitoes bite me in the center of my back where it's impossible to scratch?  If you, my dear friends and blog readers, have been following my postings for some time you'll know that one of my major summer nemeses are wee nasty, blood suckers...MOSQUITOES.  I dread these flying bastards.  My newest and most annoying bite is yes, on my back, beyond reach, and just under my bra.  Every time I shift it's touched mercilessly - not scratched - but touched.  This is an impossible situation.  It's as if someone is teasing me with a drink of cold water on a hot, sweltering day.  Now I'll ask a rhetorical question.  Was this a premeditated nibble?  I'm thinkin', yes!  Oh, yes indeed it was.

My laptop and I have a love/hate relationship.  The only time I don't save a draft is when I'm three quarters of the way through a blog and my computer decides to automatically shut off for a system upgrade.  This always pleases me (sarcasm is simply dripping off my fingertips).  No one needs to hear the cacophony of 4-letter expletives which spew from my mouth.  It's a good thing I type with my bedroom door shut.  I don't want Austynn to accuse me of teaching him how to curse.  Seriously? 

Everyone in my circle of life knows that I am a lover of animals.  Very rarely do I complain of a pet bothering me.  If this were the case, it's normally the pet owner who's at fault.  Well let me tell ya'...there is a local pet neighbor who is making me a very "unhappy camper".  Dogs bark.  I understand this; however, single barks which continue on for hours do not make for a calm, smiling, relaxed Breezy.  Eric, my dearest husband, went absolutely postal a couple of nights ago.  The poor man jumped out of bed and screamed out our open window at 10:43pm MST to "SHUT THE *&%@ UP!".  I don't believe the dog understood or cared for that matter because immediately following Eric's rant, the dog responded with two simultaneous barks and continued on until at least three in the morning.

Why is it that when children hit the tender age of sixteen, they believe they are entitled to sit with your friends and participate in adult conversations?  Also, let me add this to the question, what makes them think that they are remotely funny or genuinely interesting?  I realize as a parent that this may sound harsh but seriously, I love my chiiiillllldreeeeen.  Now gooooooo awaaaaaaayyyy.  SCAT!

This is all I have for today.  I'm certain it's enough.  I'm feeling thoroughly refreshed.  Adieu mes amours.