F-Bombing

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

I have been pondering my recent downslide into who the fuck knows what - self pity? Self doubt? Inability to be successful? Rejection of human happiness? Gah. Put me in a black Victorian dress and I can kick Helena Bonham Carters ass in Sweeney Todd. I'll make you a meat pie, mother fucker.

I am going to call my psychiatrists office and make an appointment. I am wondering if my med dose is too low and I am experienceing a mild depression. Of course the endless fucking winter in Montreal isn't exactly helping things.

Did I mention my vow today to use fuck and it's derivitive as much as humanly fucking possible?

Or my new obsession with the Savage love podcast? If you aren't listening to him, then you should be. Not just for his creative and unique way of finding new and fucking amazing descriptors for sexual acts and fluids - my personal fave? "Tabula fucking semen Rasa" but his amazing common sense and simple straightforwardness. Seriously. Sometimes, between TWC and DSS pictures, I can't take humanity anymore.

Makes me want to grip my head and scream "AHAHHAHAHAHHHH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!!", and then run up and down the classrooms I inhabit, and call people out for their bullshit.

And have I mentioned how fucking much I love you people out there in bloggy land. Because I do, even as I hide under my quilt eating carbs and yelling "Stop looking at me!" and your sensible voices remind me that I am loveable and maybe even fucking funny - particularly when I don't FEEL very fucking Funny.

Plus, the school term is coming to it's inevitable fucking end and not even near fucking soon enough. Seriously - I do not know who I ass fucked in a previous life to have this kind of semester, but I was clearly some kind of sadistic son of a bitch to get saddled with some of this huge stinking heaps of cat shit.

And speaking of shit - some animal decided to shit on my porch and I had to pick it up. Can I tell you how fucking gross it is to have to pick up unknown animal shit on your fire escape? This was after being woken by my husband and told that I had to go and clean this animal shit up, since that is my "department".

Department? I didn't see that in the wife job description. No one ever announced to me that I was the official "unknown shit picker upper". Fuck. It was cold and slimy and disgusting. Then he asked me to identify the shit - like I am getting a degree in shit identification. I am the new animal shit CSI unit, apparently. Give me a call if you need shit idenitified. Fuck the education degree - I am the shit whisperer.

And finally, since I am on an unholy fucking rant. I would like to call out Scotia Banque. Yeah Scotia Banque scrot teller who - after looking at me for a full fucking YEAR - decided last week that he was unsure of my identity and that he would have to enforce a bank policy to hold my paycheck for 5 fucking days.

Furthermore, Soctia Banque Scrot - when you asked me if any of the other tellers "knew me" and I pointed at each and said things like "Yeah - he's the guy who makes a lot of jokes that I don't particularly find funny", and "he's the guy the elderly dude was screaming at last week"....You totally know that I am not taking your bullshit answer for granted - right? You know that I plan on marching up to your window tomorrow and presenting myself and my check to you? I wonder if you'll fucking remember me then? I know you have customer fucking service calling me every day since I threatened to pull my account from your fucking bank. I can't wait to see you again. How pleasant for all of us.

And now? Now I have to go and fucking film a fucking puppet show.

No, I am not fucking kidding.

18 Baleful Regards:

RhondaS said...

Funniest fucking thing I ever read. Unknown shit picker upper.

Madeleine said...

Aaaaaaaaaand . . . we still love you.

So get some help, if that's what you need. You are funny even angry and depressed, but, you know, healthy and happy can be funny at lower cost.

I don't know how you've managed TWC so long, honestly. I had to stop reading after a few weeks because I was nastier than usual to my husband during a fight, on account of all the vicarious nastiness.

Jaelithe said...

Dude, someone needs to inform Terrance that mysterious animal shit on the fire escape is DEFINITELY traditionally the husband's department. Not the wife's.

The wife already traditionally holds primary responsibility for cleaning excrement from toilets, diapers and children's behinds INSIDE the home. Therefore the traditional husband should handle such messes when they are OUTSIDE.

If he wants to be all progressive and non-traditional and let you handle all outdoor mysterious piles of crap, he can choose to handle cleaning the toilets inside.

At least, that's what I would have said to my husband.

Hang in there, school-wise. You can do it, Dawn. You are brilliant.

Fraulein N said...

Well, fuck. Who'd you have to kill to be named the Picker-Up of Mysterious Shit?

Mitzi Green said...

i'm just glad to know i'm not the only one jumping up and down screaming f bombs for no "apparent" reason. well, not so much jumping because of my broken toe. which is another reason for an f bomb. so after i pop out this kid i will fly to fucking canada with a big ass bottle of something boozy and we shall raise our glasses and toast something like "fuck all y'all, fuckers." (i'm kidding--i can't afford to fly to canada any more than i can fly to the moon. so buy your own damn liquor and we'll plan a virtual toast.)

SUEB0B said...

It could be worse. You could be having this kind of life and NOT be hysterically funny. Hey, work with me.

Hollee said...

From one teacher to another - amen sista!

June can't come fast enough.

Mom101 said...

Ack Dawn...I mean FUCK Dawn. Hang in there with all this stuff.

And if you love Savage Love, read his book, Slouching Toward Gommorah. It's a hoot.

Mom101 said...

Whoops, that's Skipping Toward Gommorah. Slouching is the book he's satirizing.

Don't read that one.

Laina said...

Call me Princess Passive Aggressive, but I would have put that shit right in one of his shoes. Waking me up would have been his first mistake...then the unidentified poo would have been the icing on the cake.

Keep in mind I'm getting divorced, so none of this should be viewed as constructive advice...

Anonymous said...

Fucking hilarious, Dawn...as usual. I'm having that kind of week, too--backed up septic system, dead dog, daughter stepping in cat puke, son splashing in the toilet with his toothbrush, and the list goes on. However, I have not had to clean up any unknown shit. Just my own family's shit. Because of the backed up septic system.
Sara

Rebecca said...

fucking well said.

marcia@roadrunner.com said...

Fucking hilarity ensues at the fucking puppet show .. wait is it a fucking puppet show or a puppet porn, where the puppets are actually fornicating

velocibadgergirl said...

You had me at 'shit whisperer.' Good Lord, woman. Fucking funny, indeed.

I hope things get better, and fast. <3 xoxo

Lisa said...

Awww Dawn. I'm pretty sure you forgot to list another "job" that's in your department. How about "vomit cleaner-upper. You know for the cat and the kid. (Being that our hubbies sounds so much alike. I assume that ones solely your job too!)

E. said...

I feel for your shit-picking woes. I am the resident toilet-declogger in our home. But I can't complain too much, b/c my old man takes out the garbage, cleans the cat boxes, and empties the diaper pail. "Shit whisperer" killed me in the best possible way.

I also love Dan Savage.

Hope you're feeling better. Fuck that fucking shit that's making you feel fucked up. Fuck it!

Izzy said...

The shit whisperer...lol I'm the resident shit picker upper around here but it's owner is generally always identifiable. Not that that's a bonus or anything...

Woman with kids said...

Fucking wonderful, I love Savage Love. He has a couple of great books too, about himself and his family. I thoroughly fucking enjoyed them.

 
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