Very

How wrong is it to listen to "Let's Get it On" by Marvin Gaye on Valentine's Day while in the company of none but your 3 year-old daughter?

He Joined the Ranks

Sadly, it continues. He has been converted to a grudge keeper.

I received an email from my brother stating that I am to return any property of his that is in my possession to my mother's house the next time I am there.

I feel like we are children again with this not speaking to each other business. You remember how you would tell your sister to tell your brother that he isn't allowed in your room anymore because he broke your Lite Brite just so you can have the satisfaction of letting him know he is getting the silent treatment? This email is just like that. Hm, how can I keep this up and prove even more that I don't want to see or talk to her? I know. I will send her an email and make her take stuff to Mom's house, so she knows that I would rather drive there to get it than see her ugly face.

Um, yeah right. Keep dreaming there, big guy.

I was tempted to send him an email saying that if he wants it, he can come get it his own damn self, but that would just be perpetuating the situation, wouldn't it?

So instead I am ignoring the email and writing this passive-aggressive post just in case he is a big enough jerk to keep checking in on me here while wanting nothing to do with me anywhere else.

Everyone wave to the big jerk.

And this was supposed to be the blog with no drama.

Ha!

Why Not To Watch American Idol...

...with a three year-old.

I tend to yell at the contestants - a lot. If they suck. I tell them so. If they're ugly, I let them know. They can't hear me, but I get the satisfaction of saying what I want to them, because I am all alone in my apartment with my television, my remote control and my analytical personality. I pick them apart...every bit of them. It's dreadful I know, but really I can't help it. If you passed me on the street, I'd do it to you, too. Just blame all of the Critical Analysis papers I had to write in Mr. Breland's eleventh grade English class. I think the classic literature boundaries were broken after the hundredth paper when I decided to pull apart his comb-over and faux British accent instead of the underlying meanings of the green light and the West Egg house in Great Gatsby .

So I analyze. EVERYTHING. It's just who I am. I'm anal too, if you want to remove the -yze.

But back to American Idol.

Audrey has always been in bed as I watch my show and yell at the television. But last night, Aud and I were at me mum’s house for dinner. We stayed to watch American Idol, because, ya know, the family that watches American Idol together…um…makes fun of the singers together?

And so we did.

And that is what we were doing when my precious daughter reprimanded me. How horrible is it, exactly, that your daughter interrupts one of your criticisms and tells you to be nice?

Now, please raise your hand if you do NOT make fun of the people that get up there. See? I’m not alone. And I do know better than to say mean things around my daughter, except in traffic. I can’t help it, and it is exactly why I moved 1 mile from my work – less unbidden obscenities that way.

I was diagnosed with road rage. By myself, of course – I diagnosed myself. But grr, people make me sooo mad. They are rude and inconsiderate and they cut in line and oooh, never mind I shouldn’t write this anymore, because I am getting steamed up and I feel a migraine coming on from just thinking about it, and I am using too many letters for my words, which is just ugly.

And besides, this was supposed to be about American Idol, which is a show filled with talented and worthy people, each and every one of them. They all deserve to be there, and I loved all of their hairstyles.

Hear that, Audrey? I love all of their hairstyles. They all have great hair.

I promise.

Yes, I do watch reality television.

I was watching the Surreal Life last night, and I'm with Adrianne. I'm falling for Christopher Knight too. How can you resist a Brady? Really, how? Forget the first male supermodel. (insert pet peeve here: Um, can I just mention that I hate when they put male or female in front of a gender-generalized role. Male nurse, male secretary... um doesn't just saying he's a nurse, pretty much cover the "male" aspect of the job? I'm just saying.) Marcus had nothing on Peter. He's, as my daugher would say, 'licious, though a little old for me, though has that ever stopped me before?

And on another note, mini-me is WEIRD. Don't believe me? Watch the show. Dude peed into a corner while riding around naked on his mini-me mobile. Need I say more?

Kids

"Audrey, can you please calm down that jumping and yelling? You're driving me crazy!"

"No mommy, I'm driving you happy."

Why Now I Hate ALL Airlines

Have you any idea how much I can't stand being in the hold system of airline companies? You may since I have devoted several posts to the topic, but before it was because of Continental. At this very moment I am stuck in the labrinth of American Airlines phone system, and I am ready to poke my eyes out. They have this supposedly "helpful" thing where you give all the information to a computer who talks to you before you get to the live agent. Now I am left wondering whose time this system is supposed to save, for the way it works is, the computer asks you a question, and you answer it, except chances are the computer doesn't hear you - EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE PRESSING THE MICROPHONE SO CLOSE TO YOUR MOUTH YOU ARE EATING IT, but that's okay because you enjoy repeating yourself again and again. You also enjoy finding yourself SNAPPING at the computer who is apparently choosing not to listen, thus causing passing coworkers to give you strange looks, wondering what would cause this normally sweet and docile receptionist/jack-of-all-trades to suddenly yell out in a Turrett's Syndrome manner of speech.

And then when you have finally gotten the computer to understand complex verbages such as "Yes" and "Yes" and are mercifully in the grasps of the the squeeky saxaphone hold music, another call comes through and you forget to push the hold button before answering it, thus ending the call with American Airlines and requiring that you START THE WHOLE DAMN PROCESS AGAIN. So when the saccarine voice of the computer agent lady asked me dumb questions again and pretended not to here them again so she could ask them just once more of this frazzled receptionist/jack-of-all-trades, it was all I could do to keep from screaming "suck it, bitch!" But instead, I just said "yes" and "no" in increasing rude tones, in the hopes that somewhere along the lines I would be validated. But that doesn't happen in the real world, silly.

I want to shoot myself and whomever thought it would be a good idea for us, the poor unfortuate patrons of corporate goliaths who want nothing more than to bilk us of our time and money, to talk to computers in the hold interim, because you know what???? When I finally did get to a live agent, I had to answer all the same fudging questions AGAIN.

Yes, I hate all airlines and their asshat hold systems. They can kiss my grits.

Note to Self

When writing rant about brother's absenteeism and its connection to his girlfriend's grudge-keeping tendancies, make sure that said brother does not read place where said rant is posted, so as to prevent this brother from being exposed to private frustrations which then spark a series of phone calls containing the "F" word and the phrase "I never want to speak to you again."