Category: grumptacular

Did you know?

That if you add the word “wedding” in front of almost any word in the English language, that you can add anywhere from $20 to $2,000 to the cost of said thing?

Tis true.

Regular ol’ cha-cha shoes? $30

“Wedding” shoes, same style? $70 (or more)

Pretty hair barrette? $10

“Wedding” hair barrette? $50 (or more)

Nice updo hair style by a stylist? $50

Same updo but “wedding hair” $200 (or more)

A nice dinner out? $40

A “wedding rehearsal” dinner, same food? $100 (or more)

Argh!

What?

The wedding planning is going fine.

Why do you ask?

You, sir…

…are no tortilla soup.

Look at this! Just look at this abomination!

This is what the cafeteria at work calls “tortilla soup”!

I. Don’t. Think. So.

Where’s the green chile? Where’s the tender pieces of potato? Where’s the juicy chunks of chicken?

This is an insult to a good girl from New Mexico.

However, this is what I’m having for lunch. The other soup choice was “vegan minestrone”, which, normally, I’m quite happy with.

Until I ladled it up. It was a sickly, pale looking soup. Not only has my cafeteria insulted Hispanics everywhere, they’ve also done a job on the Italians.

It’s not ok

It took only a brief Google search to net a photo of the deliciousness that is REAL tortilla soup.

Somewhere in the world, someone is having a piping bowl of this…and that knowledge will get me through this day…

Screeeeeeeech

: cue the sound of screaming brakes :

Today I flipped the page on my calendar. Yes, I know it’s the second of May. I’m always a tad behind on such things.

And in flipping the calendar, I had a mental hundred car pileup on the heavily trafficked highway of my mind.

I have a birthday next week. No, not a major milestone, but getting *awfully* close to a milestone.

Generally I tend to get real dramatic about a birthday well in advance. Not so this year. Maybe I was subconsciously trying to forget. But nooooo! Time marches on. B*tch. Won’t let you forget.

I guess age is one of those things you can’t do anything about. One can fight about it. One can also shout in a hurricane. Neither is gonna do a lot of good. But it may make you feel better.

I suppose it all comes down to something about not going gently into that good night…with all apologies to Dylan Thomas……

Ah well, I face plant into a cake with buttercream frosting and forget my sorrows. Until the next day when I’ll lament my waistline.

For today, someone done broke the cake:

Recipe

Lunch has come and gone. I applied salt, sugar and fat to the affected situation and while no less grumpy, I am moving more slowly and am less of a threat to myself and others.

I’ve gone from feisty to apathetic. Quite a progression.

I’m in the wrong profession

David Blaine. Why is this guy news?

And yet he is. His front-page feat was to hold his breath for a real long time. On the Oprah show.

Really?

Shoot, I could hold my breath ’til I’m blue in the face and ain’t no one paying me a freaking cent.

Oh, but “he’s an entertainer”. Yeah. I can really crack ’em up around the coffee maker at work, but that isn’t bringing me any income.

What do I do all day? I sit in a fish bowl of a veal pen cubicle and type little words on a little machine to appease bitchy clients and suppliers.

I need a change of venue. Or maybe I’m just hungry. It is almost lunchtime afterall.

I’ll check back after sustenance. Perhaps my mood will have improved.