Monday, October 25, 2010

Get out of the kitchen

Every damn party and some idiot makes the comment that no matter how much room there is, everyone ends up in the kitchen.

And there I was Wednesday night, doing party assistance as a volunteer helper, wondering which old crone was gonna receive my kick to her hip to propel her out of my damn way so I could replenish the party tray.

"Oh hello dear, I seem to be in your way, don't I? You know, folks always seem to congregate in the kitchen. Hi there Samantha, how are you? How's your mother? I saw her last week . . . "

Yep, the old bitch didn't move. Just kept on blathering. I was so tempted to jam the party tray in her rapidly deteriorating osteoporosis ridden bones but instead I bit the inside of my mouth and counted to way the fuck over 10.
Another withering ancient further blocked me, AFTER glancing at my party tray.

FINALLY, I said "Ladies, I need to get by you to refill the platter."
Did they move?
Baaaaaarely.
I was halfway hoping my high heel might have nicked one of them while I silently rehearsed my best Gordon Ramsay* impression.

On the way back, the hired help was attempting to open the freezer door while 3 ladies refused to cede her the swing space.

"What are you looking for, Miss Help?" the most pleasant Wheel of Fortune fan asked.

"Ice," said the barely terse hired.

"Oh, look in the freezer."

That's when my now unhinged smart mouth reached its self editing limit and blurted "Oh, is that where it should be? Miss Help, do you see ice IN THE FREEZER? How wonderful! Yes, you can hand it to me since you don't have enough room to turn around."

WHAT
THE
HELL?!



Those of you who find yourselves in the kitchen at the next party, take a look and have some self awareness. Did anyone need to open a drawer you are leaning against? Did the party host decorate and clean her whole MonkeyFighting house for your inspection and enjoyment? Are you blocking the refrigerator?

Strike all that, I don't give a damn about the answers.
Get the fuck out of the kitchen.
You are in the way.
I don't care if you are more comfortable in the kitchen.
You are being rude.
And I dislike you immensely.

Have a blessed day, y'hear?

*

Saturday, October 23, 2010

You're welcome

Brought to you by the 12 year old boy who lives in my head.

Monday, October 11, 2010

It was your time, dude


Enough of the John Lennon death anniversary angst already. He was insecure heroin snorter and marital cheater who enabled the awfulness that is Yoko's "career". I heard a recording of her once and it sounded like an orgy of violent feline fornication.
Sometimes the most merciful thing to happen to a celebrity is an early death. Marilyn, Elvis, James Dean, Cobain, Heath. I mean, c'mon, had they not passed, imagine their star fading with each sad and pathetic appearance on Hollywood Squares and American Idol. Elizabeth Taylor is a perfect example of hanging around too long. We can barely remember her as young and beautiful when we witness her putrefaction with our very own eyes.

Live fast.

Die young.

Leave a pretty corpse.
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