Middle Finger Mondays....

OM-FREAKIN-G!!!

Are you serious?? This is my Monday? If that's so - F YOU, MONDAY!!

Seriously - have you ever had one of those days where just anything and everything that could happen to push you over the edge into the abyss called insanity, happens??

No?

Well then F you too.

It started with having to sleep on the couch because my sweet, loveable, snoring to alert Russia of an incoming nuclear attack boyfriend couldn't put a lid on his "back of throat choir". Then Sir Can't Sleep Quietly comes into the living room to bitch about how HOT it is in the room, and he's sweating to death so he's turning down the heat.

REALLY? REALLY?? Well if I wasn't FREEZING MY EYELIDS SHUT in the living room, the heat wouldn't BE ON, ya jackass! I'd probably be laying in bed next to you, and you'd probably be gettin' some...but since I'm not - shut the hell up - I'm sleepin'. and freezin'. and not gettin' any.

Then, in attempting to turn down the volume on my cell phone alarm, my dumb ass turns OFF the freakin' thing, and proceeds to drift off into dream land. But not to dream about the deliciousness we call Idris Elba. Oh no. There were no dripping honey scenes, or capable hands picking me up and placing me on the countertop to have his way with me in THIS dream. Nope. I got to dream of a Mr. I'm So Hot I Can't Sleep in the next room. And you guessed it. We were arguing. In my dream. Arguing. And apparently arguing so intensely that when he woke me up THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE I HAD TO LEAVE THE HOUSE, I wanted to punch him right in his big, fat, well rested face!

Him: "Do you want some coffee, babe?"
Me: "F off."

Ok - so I didn't REALLY say that...but I think my eyeballs did. I was in NO KINDA MOOD this morning.

Get in the car - it's on E. Who was the last one to drive it? Guess. Just guess...Yup. The man I love. Except right now, I don't love him. I loathe him. I curse his name all the way to the kid's doctor's appointment, in between praying to sweet baby Jesus in his tiny little manger that we actually MAKE IT THERE.

I curse his name AGAIN, when I get gas after the appointment, in between thanking sweet baby Jesus surrounded by all those cute baby animals in his tiny, cold little manger, that we actually DID make it.

And then, when I finally come home...ready to blog about the evil ways of Monday, I can't log into my blogger account. Why? Well it has taken me all of 8 billion wasted minutes to figure out that my handy dandy man candy has logged me OUT of my google account, and logged into his, thereby rendering me helpless, useless, and essentially - blogless.

But alas, the one brain cell that has managed to escape the daggers of vodka I have been throwing at it managed to figure it out, and here I am. Blogging to you. My beautiful, hopefully sympathetic (if not by now drunk with disgust over my whiny Monday rant) bloggie babies. I love you dearly. You give me the one moment of the day to spew my insanity and get back to feeling semi-anything.

And on that note, I must go. You know who is snoring on the couch now, and I can't concentrate anymore. Plus, there are too many sharp objects nearby. I may get inappropriately inspired to hold on to a quiet home.

I hope you have a great Monday. But as for me - I'm givin' Monday the finger.


*Author's note: Because of the world we live in, where some folks can't take a joke and poke fun at life's certain absurdities, I feel like I now have to put a *sidenote* on certain blogs. So for the record - NO. I WOULD NEVER KILL MY BOYFRIEND. NO. I HAVE NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT KILLING MY BOYFRIEND. But yes, I do believe in sweet baby Jesus. And it doesn't matter to me one bit if it offends you that I make reference to him in tiny mangers, surrounded by sweet, cuddly, loveable farm animals. So there.