I'm grumpy today. Tired. Bitchy. Did Oscar the Grouch have a sister? Because that's about me, right about now.
I am seriously rethinking my decision to become an academic-- five days prior to defending my dissertation-- possibly the worst piece of tripe ever composed, anywhere, by any being, in the entire history of the whole universe.
There's about 50 gazillion articles and books of which I should have a working knowledge by next Tuesday. Yep, and the likelihood that one of my five committee members is going to ask about the 40, 161,234th is about 1:1. (It's never a good sign when I start trying to use numbers; that and quoting Dante or Melville who might be the second worst writer in the history of everything right behind me.)
Told you I was grouchy.
Another thing that is pissing me right the hell off: our dryer is broken. Yes, I am griping because I have clothes and boxers and socks hanging all over our apartment. And four voicemails since Monday to our landlady (who is usually Jane-on-the-spot) have gone unanswered.
I feel like a turn-of-the-20th-century Irish/German/Polish immigrant in the Bronx. All that's missing are the gaggle of children tugging on my imaginary apron strings (oops, just popped out another one). Not even Monty Python can make me smile today.
Every sperm is not sacred.
In fact, if a sperm gets wasted, it is because the dude it came from had too many Jack and Cokes at the pub down the block.
And I am the one who's irate.
I am so white from being inside, strapped to a computer, that you can almost see every vein, muscle, and tendon beneath my skin. I'm like the Invisible Man without the cool invisible part (and the penis; boy wouldn't that be a shocker for Tom after being together for almost four years?).
I am in such a foul mood that I considered switching political parties just to see if that made me feel better. Actually, that's a lie. I would never even consider it.
See? And now I'm lying because I am grumpy.
I never lie.
Except for that one time when my doctor asked me if I had ever experimented with drugs and I said "no".
Altho' technically, that's not a lie. I didn't experiment with cannabis. I smoked it... regularly.
Maybe I'm having a mid-life crisis. I am turning 38 in less than two months and I am without a working dryer, I feel like a Staten Island cast off, and I don't want to be an invisible man, well, woman.
Regardless, doors keep opening and closing and I feel like kicking the crap out of all of them.
Especially the one marked: "Winning Powerball numbers for the next drawing."
Unfair. So f*cking unfair...
Update: I just found this post on Media Matters that made my day. In a nutshell, rightwing blogs are irrelevant according to a Brigham Young University study. Can you get more right wing than BYU?