Yesterday was National Grouch Day. Did you miss it? Well, too bad if you did..maybe next year you’ll remember. What do you want? An engraved invitation?
I celebrated National Grouch Day in the following ways:
Disclaimer – please don’t try to attain this level of grouchiness if you are a beginner. You could sprain an eyeball. Please consult your doctor before beginning any new grouchiness program. You know, or don’t. I’m not your goddamn mother.
I bitched excessively about the asshole neighbor two doors down. I realize that I don’t own the street, but he parks his big, stupid ugly pickup truck in front of my house every day. Not only does he park in front of my house, but he parks right in the middle, so only one car can park there. This is actually not an issue for us as we have two cars that fit perfectly fine in our driveway. It’s just the goddamn principle. Rude bastard.
I got horribly annoyed by the guy in the next cube because he hates his keyboard and punishes it every day by pounding on his keys. And for fuck’s sake, when it comes time to press the enter key, he strikes it with the anger and bitterness one would expect from a deranged chimpanzee forced to eat nothing but rice cakes and watch reruns of Charles In Charge and My Two Dads. To be fair, I get annoyed by this daily, but was extra grouchy since it was a holiday and all. It was like being grouchy with grouchy sprinkles.
I did extra hand waving in the car and none of the other drivers got a break. I pulled out all the profanities:
C’mon . The speed limit is 40 here. It’s not a goat path. Asshole.
What the fuck are you doing? Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
Nice turn signal, ass face.
No, PLEASE, pull right the fuck out if front of me and then slow down. Wank stain.
This lane is for PASSING. motherfucker. PASSING.
Dude, the fucking light is green. It’s goddamn green. Stop fucking texting and move your ass.
Take your time.
It occurs to me as I write this, that I never use the phrase ‘take your time’ and not mean it sarcastically.
It seems that I pushed the grouchiness to levels even I can’t handle because I ended the day in a hormonal meltdown. I have no idea what it was all about, all I know is that one minute, I was happily catching up on Doctor Who and the next minute I was sobbing to Randy that I’ve wasted my whole life and that I was probably dying. Anxiety is a dick.
I celebrated National Grouch day to the best of my ability. I guess I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, bitching about shit is like the whistle on a tea kettle and I let off a lot of steam. On the other, it’s fairly exhausting. I think I’ll go back to my normal of level grouchiness. It’s easier.
Today is Boss’s Day. I’m going to celebrate this holiday by not acknowledging it at all.
Okay, I might sneer at my boss and possibly flip him off behind his back. Because I’m a grown up and I don’t want the holiday to pass without celebrating at least a little bit.