It's officially "I'm Not Going To Take It Anymore" Day!
You would think that I could come up
with a whole crazy list of things
that I'm not going to take anymore.
But, no.
Today I'm going to share with you
the things that are saying that
to ME!
I got on the scale this morning.
It groaned.
The springs sprung and the
little needle went haywire.
"I'm not going to take it anymore!"
it shouted.
I covered it with a towel.
(Well, smothered it, really.)
It won't be sassing me again anytime soon.
I reached in the refrigerator for the pickles.
He ketchup dropped out.
The shrimp from New Years Eve
pooled into a fishy blob.
Brown lettuce lay dying.
The refrigerator snapped-
"I'm not going to take it anymore!"
So I got the thirty gallon trash can
from the garage and emptied
the entire thing out.
(That'll show you, you grumbling ingrate).
I washed my hair this morning
and started to blow dry it.
One side went east.
The other west.
The top, north.
The ends frizzled,
the bangs drooped,
the color wilted.
I twisted and creamed
and sprayed and spackled
and oiled and gelled
till I looked like a
freakazoid.
"I'm not going to take it anymore!"
my hair said.
So, I put on a hat
and hushed that horrid monster.
I started a load of laundry.
Used the cheap soap.
Stuff that smells like
the boys bathroom at the city park.
Figured I could wash ten pair of jeans
as easy as two.
"I'm not going to take it anymore!"
said the washer - all agitated.
So, I shut it's lid
and twisted it's knob
over to Giganto Load
and left the room.
(I still hear him thumping against the wall
in his spin cycle.)
Okay. I know.
This is a poor excuse for a blog post.
This is a poor excuse for a blog post.
Lame, even.
Screwy.
A little quirky
and a lot stupid.
So, you might as well say it, too-
"I'm not going to take it anymore!"
Well , you don't have to.
I'm done now.
