Showing posts with label vodka. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vodka. Show all posts

Monday, November 19, 2012

Yep, Everyone's Still Stupid

Well the big Presidential election is over, so it is somewhat safe to venture back onto social media. Or so I thought. 

The first few days following the election, everyone was busy complaining about people on welfare and the throngs of moochers living on the government's dime. I wonder if they realize trying to get as many questionable tax breaks as they can or claiming a personal receipt at a restaurant was a "business dinner, hardy har har" is basically the same thing as what some welfare recipients do- they're both taking advantage of the system for their benefit and financial gain. But since they have jobs I guess their self entitlement super cedes anyone else's need for basic food and shelter.

And now residents of my home state, among others, are leading the charge and asking for secession from the United States since they do not like or agree with election results or some of the programs and laws the government has put into place. I guess they don't realize how much we rely on the US government for funding and support and we will in essence become the very same scourge of society and aliens they complain about.

True post on my Facebook feed.
Maybe they learned English at a college or something and not the
 middle school she maybe dropped out of after being knocked up.
At least she's honest enough to call herself by what she is.


With that I shall once again withdraw into a post election buffer zone waiting for the self righteous and entitled to cool their jets. I only hope when Texas becomes its own nation I can still get my hands on some fine Russian vodka without paying exorbitant taxes, because I would not be down with throwing my Cape Cod into the Gulf of Mexico and calling it the Mexico Vodka Party. That would just be a waste.


 

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Sounds of Silence


In between day dreams of Tina Fey inviting me to lunch to tell me how perfectly dry my humor is and begging me to write for 30 Rock and Chelsea Handler whisking me away to Cabo for one of her infamous vodka soaked play-cations, what I aspire to most is to be is left the fuck alone.

Alone to shit whilst a toddler says she wants to watch me go poopy. Alone to pee without a husband who needs me to proof read an e-mail and bringing me a laptop mid-stream or a tween coming in to ask me 'whatcha doin?'

No, Discover, I don't care that my bill is past due and no, I don't want to pay it. 
No, PTA President, I don't want to volunteer at the cake walk or book fair. 
No, telemarketer, I don't want to buy a timeshare in Haiti. 
No, Facebook freak, I do not want to accept your Farmville invitation. 
No, saleslady, I don't want you to a start dressing room for me. 
No, friend of a friend, I don't want to have a Mary Kay party!

I realize I may eventually live like a lonesome shut in with five cats and an imaginary soccer ball friend named Paco. Dear, wonderful Paco who lets me pee in private and does not sass talk me.

But I will at long last be alone to bask in my very own pit of glorious solitude.