What. The. Hell.

[the_wanlorn]

"Make sure you keep the screen on. We got a big wasps nest over here." The screen that I have to literally take all the way off if I want to open it? Is that the one you're talking about? The screen that's in the same room as two kittens who love sitting in the window? Two kittens who aren't allowed outside yet because they're not spayed? That screen? Are you sure? Tell me, why in the fucking hell would I be opening that screen? Even ignoring how I've already whined about not being able to open them for the two above reasons. And, for that matter, really. Don't touch me. There's a very very very short list of people who don't make me feel all crawly for hours after they touch me and, regardless of the blood relation, you're not on it. You know that whole personal space thing you always complain about? Yeah? That giant huge bubble that "not even your children" respect? Yeah? Ever consider you might have passed that on to you children?? No? Figures. In other news, firing a pump-action shotgun inside isn't a bright idea. Edit: I forgot to mention. Nothing pisses me off more than people deciding I can't do anything. I was stuck discussing packing with Mum this afternoon (heyyy seeing a theme to this entry yet?) and mentioned that the only thing I really had to pack was books, and even that had been mostly done two years ago*. She mentioned how, oh yeah, I needed to actually pack the box instead of just piling everything in there. Um, excuse me? Why don't you fuck off. But come and look at my "piling" job, first. Let me note here that she couldn't get the box. I had to pick it up and move it for her. She opens it and says, "See? Just piled." "... Then take them out and demonstrate how to pack properly, because I clearly need lessons." So, she takes them out. And takes them out. And takes them out some more. "Oh. Well. They looked piled." "Uh huh. And can you get them all back in?" "Well I don't have to. They're your books." "... get the fuck out of my room." So, yeah. Now I have a giant pile of books in the middle of my room that I haven't gotten around to repacking. Which, I suppose, is good because I need to go through them and get all the doubles out so I have room for my B&N bag of books to fit in there. But still. What. The. Hell. *Octoberfest. The library strews all of its unwanted books out the front. You buy a plastic bag for a buck. You fill it up with as many books as you want. I spend about two bucks a year and come home with about a hundred books, give or take. In any case, it's taught me to be a wiz at packing as many books as possible (and that I can still carry) into bags and big plastic bins once I get home.

Comments

[desert-knits.livejournal.com]

Were you firind said shotgun at your mother? Because I would understand that...

I am writing you a testimonial. I'm just really cracking on it because I don't want it to suck.

[the-wanlorn.livejournal.com]

Pah. I wish. I mean, seriously. There's a giant pile of books on my floor now. GIANT. *grumble mutter grumble*

And yay! I'm getting a testimonial! You're the bestest! <3333333!

[desert-knits.livejournal.com]

Oh damn, I can't spell. Oops.