Did Grrr and Grumble in the Wabe

Today is not the best of days because somehow I’ve got my crank on. Not sure what exactly has set me off but I have a feeling it’s a myriad of little tiny straw like cranklets that are piling themselves onto my crank camel’s back. She can’t take much more, I tell ya.

Heh, yeah that’s what I’ll do for a Tuesday post, I’ll tell ya!

GRUMBLE: I bought some new shirts a bit back and noticed that they don’t have tags but rather the tag info is now printed directly on the fabric. In theory this is GREAT because it totally eliminates embarrassing flipped out tag moments. However! I did not realize until I had to put one of the new shirts on how much I relied on that tag to tell me which was the back of the shirt and which was the front of the shirt.

Long ago I taught myself that if you are holding a shirt by the bottom edge and you looked down the inside of the shirt way, waaaaaaaay down to the neck of the shirt, the tag needs to be on the side away from your body in order to have the shirt on correctly. I was rather proud of that discovery, actually. Up to that point it was really hit or miss as to whether I had my shirt on correctly or backwards and how it got to be one way or the other was a complete mystery to me. Other people seemed to know right off which way was what so I thought to my little 5 year old self “Self, there has GOT to be a method of figuring this out before the shirt is over your head and settled on your person.” I studied, I experimented, I grumbled but I persevered until lo! One day tag enlightenment came upon me and I was able to put my shirts on right every single time from that day forward.

That is until a couple weeks ago when I stuck my head into one of the new shirts and looked for the familiar big white pokey out blur which would be the tag. I didn’t find it because everything is printed on the shirt itself. I also didn’t find the printing because I need to wear glasses to see but I don’t usually have my glasses on when I’m pulling a shirt over my head. People, I am that visually challenged that I can not see the tag info writing stamped on the shirt if I’m looking for it from the other end of said shirt. Ergo, I can not tell anymore which side is what and consequently, I’ve put the new shirts on backwards at least twice already. I’ve only warn them maybe a dozen times, this does not bode well. Damn newfangled garment industry technology is causing me to regress 31 years. I’m too old to relearn how to put my shirts on! HATE!!!

GRUMBLE: Yield: move over: move in order to make room for someone for something. You self righteous driver fucks need to go back to driver’s ed for some remedial brush up. And next time you obnoxiously honk at me because my right of way interfered with your wanting to get to where you’re going? I’ll eat your face off.

GRUMBLE: This one is WoW (the game) specific but I still got cranky about it. We played a battleground (capture the flag) in which the other side was much, much better equipped than we were. They also decided to post several of their decked out hooligans in our lone graveyard so that when we came back after dying, they smackered us to death before we could say boo. I died twice like that and then spent the rest of the miserable run boogering around as a ghost. Grave camping sux: it’s a cheap, ugly, not sporting way to get kills and you would think that the not dead people on our side might…oh I don’t know, maybe route the fuckers but no. Hey, they weren’t dead, why should they care? Wankers. Both sides.

GRUMBLE: For the past week whenever I got all comfy and ready to sleep, I’d find that there was one cat/me/TheMan hair tickling some part of my face. Grrrr. So I’d thread my hand out from the depths of the covers where I had tucked it in for a good night’s sleep, futz about until I found and evicted said hair, and then got back to the business of falling asleep. And then, another hair would pop out of dimensional space and wiggle around until it made contact with my head. Wash, rinse repeat and it’s driving me nuts. I even changed out the sheets and that very night, on clean pillowcases *pop* tickle tickle tickle ARRRRGH! The cats don’t sleep on the pillows, I don’t think I’m going bald, and FRESH PILLOWCASES! I think I pissed the god of sleep off somehow and now I’m doing penance. I have a feeling that even if I didn’t have cats and TheMan and I were both completely bald, I’d still get little tickly hairs visiting my face at night.

Last year at the booniverse: The red Coke bottle cap, when applied to a cat, looks like a tiny fez. HEE!

Last last year at the booniverse: JSFR: Tabekko Dobutsu Biscuit

The year before at the booniverse: Ich hasse diese bloede Fuenf!

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