Queasy, Wheezy Blogger Girl


Day two of asthma-imposed house arrest and it sucks.  Between my asthma (which is an asshole), and the lethargy and such (which I totally blame on that evil bastard Prednisone), I am beginning to feel a tad snarky.  As I may have mentioned, I really hate missing work.  Which, if you think about it, is kind of weird, since I really don’t like the vast majority of people and I am becoming very annoyed with the whole I’m-all-allergic-to-every-stupid-scent-on-the-planet-and-I-am-apparently-surrounded-by-people-intent-on-killing-me-through-copious-amounts-of-smelly-crap thing.  And I really, really, really like getting to stay home–except I feel like a great big jerk when I miss work.  Being, like, beyond poor, I often have to deal with jackasses who think all poor folks just love being broke and that we all simply choose to be lazy bums living off everyone else’s hard work.  ‘Cause being poor is awesome.  I have repeatedly had to explain my situation to people who obviously think I’m a completely worthless drain on society.  The truth is, I have no problem working!  My body, on the other hand, hates when I work full-time.  It rebels and makes my life a living hell.  I end up having a big old asthma tantrum that has me in and out of doctor’s offices and hospitals for, like, a month, during which time I miss a lot of work.  I have lost jobs, been demoted, faced eviction, etc.  After having gone through this over and over, I finally admitted defeat and no longer work full-time.  Unfortunately, living off a part-time job that pays barely above minimum wage is just not really happening.  Because I cannot work enough to support myself, I have to impose on my Aunt and Uncle, taking over their spare room and invading their home in general.  I don’t have my own space, and I can’t have much of my stuff with me.  I hate being poor.  But, even more than that, I hate the assumption that I am lazy or whatever.  Grrrrrrr.  And did I mention that I may be going just a tad stir-crazy??  

So, is it just me, or do most folks that die in horror movies kinda deserve it?  I mean, seriously, stupidity abounds in these movies.  And yes, I know they are just movies and such, but it makes it very difficult to root for a main character that just makes you want to toss them to the boogeyman or monster or psycho killer or whatever.  I find myself snarking at the characters with comments like, “If you’re that stupid, you deserve to die!” or “Don’t any of you morons watch horror movies??” or “OMG she’s in the closet–kill her a lot ’cause she is too stupid to survive this movie!”  You know what else drives me bonkers?  People who live near big, old carnivorous animals that get all shocked and pissy when someone gets eaten by these animals.  Just a tip here folks, if you don’t want to get eaten by a bear, don’t live where bunches of bears live.  If you don’t want to get chewed on by a shark, stay out of the ocean.  If you don’t want alligators or crocodiles to eat you, don’t swim in streams or rivers or ponds or anything not a swimming pool (these critters may be in swimming pools, but as long as you keep it even slightly clean, you can see them before you hop in the water).  If you live in Australia, don’t leave the city or there is a big chance that you will be eaten by a crocodile or bitten by a killer snake or become lunch for the Great White Sharks or nipped by killer spiders or whatever.  In fact, maybe you shouldn’t live in Australia at all…ever.   

Daily randomosity:  Who the hell came up with the show Naked and Afraid??  Like, what is the point of that crap?  They blur out the whole naked thing, so WTF?  And why the hell would they be in the jungle or whatever all naked and such?  I mean, the entire show appears to be folks stomping through the wilderness with blurred-out bodies, complaining about everything.  Admittedly, I have never been able to bring myself to actually watch the show, but I have seen the commercials and, really, that is more than enough.  I’d be okay if I never get to visit Amsterdam, really.  High fashion baffles me–whacked-out hair, down-right bizarre clothing, ridiculous make-up, deadly shoes, and odd-ball poses and such.  I just don’t get it.  I’m really glad my name isn’t Daphne, I just don’t think I would be a very good Daphne.  Although, aside from Scooby Doo’s Daphne, who could?  



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