People Really Piss Me Off (this is probably why I have only 1 friend)

It's been a while since either of us have blogged. In my case, I've been uber-busy at work. It's funny how that happens immediately after you receive your layoff notice. Naturally, over the past week and a half, I've had a few run-ins with some of the most irritating people on the planet. And I'm pretty sure it had nothing to do with my raging PMS.

Listen up ladies (and gents): I get that sometimes you need to multi-task by talking on the phone and shopping, but can we all make a pact to keep it down?

Yesterday I was in my office potty stall while a Russian (?) lady waxed poetically in her native tongue during her bowel movement. Russian echoing in a tiled public bathroom is extremely annoying and really messes up my concentration. About an hour later, someone had explosive diarrhea all over this same bathroom. I blame the obnoxious Russian lady kharma.

This morning at Target, while I was admiring a ravishing cotton tee with gilded butterflies and raised lettering that said "Team Jacob" in Gothic font, I was overwhelmed with noise pollution by a petite blond practically screaming about her "important job", "whose fault it was" and how "Jamie lost almost $70,000 on this deal." This conversation lasted for at least 20 minutes (I know this because it took me that long to peruse the tee shirts and clearanced 'Jean Paul Gautlier for Target' collection). Look lady, if you job is so god-damned important what are you doing splurging on Target clothes? I'm pretty sure "Jamie" and her missing $70,000 would not appreciate you going all "J-Lo on a mad shopping spree" with those Merona Chinos and Xhiliration ruffle blouses.

Sadly, I was noise-raped later today in Macy's when I overhead a man evangelizing about some spiritual mumbo-jumbo at approximately 300 decibels. Hey Mr. metaphysical-genius, If I wanted to hear your religious rantings, I would have just stayed home and watched a rerun of the 700 club. At least Jim and Tammy Faye Baker are good to make fun of. Plus her eye makeup was nothing short of mesmerizing.

I then headed on to my local Albertson's to pick up my daughter's migraine prescription (she inherited my migraines, irrational burst of anger, hypochondriac tenancies and blond hair). The prescription used to be $30, but is now $70. This is for FOUR pills. Umm, is it heroin? The truth is, this stuff works, but sadly it doesn't take you on a magic carpet ride or anything like that. After getting $-ass raped once again by "the man" (aka the insurance industry), I headed over to the in-store Starbucks for some much needed caffeine. I kid you not the man in front of me was returning a tub of "Smokehouse beans" at the Starbuck's counter. Actually he wasn't even returning them, but instead complaining about being "overcharged" for said "Smokehouse beans". Naturally the store manager had to be called and money had to change hands at an excruciatingly snail-like pace. I'm really glad Mister Smokehouse got his $3.26 back and I hope he goes home and has explosive diarrhea.