I'm Surrounded By Morons.

Pet Peeve #582

SAHM Facebook statuses that read:
"Hubby lover buns is away on business for two whole days :( Being a single mom is SOOOO gosh darn stinkin hard!"

I will slap you until you bleed, you stupid idiot women. Yes, women-plural. I see this comment probably bi-weekly. Now call me crazy, but I believe when your husband is away making money for your family that does not qualify you as a single parent. REAL single mothers have to dump their kids in daycare, work at a job or two or three away from home all the live long day, AND make dinner, do dishes, do laundry, go grocery shopping, bathe, etc.

I honestly can't believe people are that freaking stupid.
That's like me saying:
"My new Nikes gave me a blister on my run this morning! As I limped along, I could feel the pioneer spirits guiding me on my journey back to my heated three story home. What a testimony builder!"

I feel a brain anuerysm coming on so, that is all for today.

I'mma Bust a Cap!

The other morning, while in peaceful slumber, my doorbell rings at 7 AM.

1st thought, "It's probably some chick in the Relief Society."

2nd thought: "Pssshhh. If those beeotches wanna talk to me, they can come back at a decent time."

I'm waiting for the lightning to strike me down, but let's be honest. Church people are the only people who will consistently show up at your door time and time again unexpected and unannounced. I'm just telling it like it is.

I proceed to roll over and capture some more wonderful shut eye, but I hear doors and cupboards slamming. Then, the mind games start.

"Oh shiz. It's a maniac killer/evil robber/menacing rapist. They rang the doorbell to see if anyone was home and then came through the back door when they thought the coast was clear."

After some serious debate, I decide to trek downstairs to see what's going on. First, I have to get dressed. "Hmmm, what should I be wearing when the cops find my mutilated body?" This decision took a shameful amount of time. Much longer than I'm going to admit. I finally settled on some gray sweats and one of Derrick's black zip up hoodies. I pick up my phone, dial 911, position my finger over the green send button, and grab Derrick's gun.

Halfway down the stairs, I rethink the gun because I can't even cock it. The last time I tried my fingers got stuck in the freakin thing and it hurt like a motha! So, as soon as my attacker figures out I have no intention of actually using the gun they'll take it from me and kill my with my own gun. Then, the police will come, trace the gun to my husband and they'll think Derrick killed me... What to do, what to do?

I decide to stick with the gun. It makes me look gangsta.

I slowly make it downstairs and check all rooms, closets, behind furniture, etc. I open the front door and peek out. Well what do you know, I guess it was just the neighbors slamming cupboards and doors. Haha! Don't I feel sheepish.

I walk back upstairs, lock myself in my room - just in case, and go back to sleep until it's time for work.

First thing I google after arriving at work.

Taser.

That's right I am soon to be armed and dangerous. Either with a taser or this cute little gun that I can actually work called "The Pink Lady". So, don't come knocking at my door earlier than 8:00 AM unless you want to suffer the consequences.

Word.