For once I am inspired to write, but my energy levels are not complying. It's my ridiculously busy time of year, and today was my first full work day in my office in over two weeks. I've been flitting about, rushing here and there, and once at home doing the same thing until Bossy Boots goes to sleep at 8-8.30pm every night. Wah, wah, wah.

This is a bit of a waste of a post, as it's largely going to consist of me moaning about shit, sorry. I am apparently just about ready to start my period you'll be pleased to know, which means I am in total insane snappy lady mode much to The Dude's immense and all-consuming joy.

My first pet peeve may seem random - mail order brides. Ok, that probably isn't very PC anymore, but I'm sorry, that's what they are. You can call it what you want, it's still buying a woman and trapping her in a life of domesticity and breeding so your nasty old ass can bang some young hot thing. In exchange, she gets to live in England, and...and...something. I am pretty confident that I live in the mail order bride capital of England, as I see mail order brides and their crusty husbands on most days.

I'm sure these women left dreadful lives behind, but they come to the UK and endure endentured servitude for the privilege of residing in the UK. Is it worth it? The Dude's family, acquainted with men who have bought women, see it from a very live and let live perspective. They view it as saving a poor soul who would otherwise be living in a shanty town, occasionally gathering rubbish to trade in for a few cents. Here, they get the glory of living in a council flat with some old bloke who couldn't find a woman to marry without cash exchanging hands. Bliss!

2) Men who grab or scratch their junk in my presence. Dude, I would balk at my husband doing that when we're hanging out at home watching The Office - do not DARE stand in front of my desk and adjust yourself. I do not want to think of your twig and berries at all, and I certainly don't need to be reminded that they sometimes itch or need shifted. For some reason, Middle Eastern students do this all the time and I so want to kick them out of the office. However, at the heart of things I'm just a dainty little mouse and would fear the confrontation. Shame, since I could do with out the junk shaking.

3) Sidewalk hogs. I get that you want to walk alongside your friends, but if someone is trying to run or walk by you, get out the way! Three of you do not need to walk next to each other at all times so that I must pick up my child and walk into the street to bypass you. Also, if I am running toward you, please, just walk single file for a moment so I am again not forced into the street. Not too long ago I shouted at some old dears for not budging an inch when I tried to run by them. Gone was that reserve mentioned in number 2 - it must have been period time then as well. Stupid old cows.

4) The constant assault on working MOTHERS by the media. Working parents are not a problem, just a mother. I know this subject only affects a smattering of you, but I'm blogging about it when I get my brain and energy back, so prepare yourselves. Or as I typed originally, "yourselfs". See what I mean?

5) Loud talkers. Shut the fuck up - no one cares about what you're saying nearly as much as you do. There is a person in a position of power at work who barges in our quiet, constructive office and announces her arrival like she's on some red carpet. Get over yourself.

6) Periods. Harbingers of doom. Signifier of barren wombs and bad attitudes. Cramps. Crying because your husband decides to do us all a favour and go grocery shopping before he collects you from work rather than after when he knows you'll be tired. No, not grateful tears, angry tears because you wanted to pick out your own hummus.

7) The evil age of 3 - P is hilarious, amazing, and clever. However, the tantrums and smart assery of this age, jesus chrysler it's hard work. This kid, after being reprimanded for being dreadful, says things like, "I've had a horrible day because you and Daddy were cross with me" and "I don't like you very much right now Mum, and I don't want to be your friend because you shout at me." We are only cross with her when she deserves it, and I am not a shouter unless she's running onto oncoming traffic. This is not to mention the screaming, dear god, the SCREAMING. Four is good, right? Right?

8) The sun. It's autumn in England (actually, is it officially?) but the sun shines every damn day and it's still 20 degrees Celcius. Every day. You could roast a chicken on a spit in my stupid office and it's insufferable. Unlike my Cheese Wife, I cannot tolerate the sun. I hate the thing. Give me a cloudy and cold day over a sunny hot one any day of the week. Lordy, I am so goth.

Phew. I feel better now. Apologies for the absolute rambling nature of this post. Once my head is back I'll try to do a post good and proper. I think. Maybe.


Calliope said...

number 8 had me cracking UP! I think I have a touch of the Goth too. I just heard that we will have some early morning lows of 58 degrees and I am setting my alarm early so that I can go out and enjoy them!

(& forgive me for asking as I feel all kinds of lame- but does this period herald the trying game part 2???)

Nic said...

Sorry you've had some rough times. I'm finding that Ant goes through some weeks where he's an angel child and others where he's, well, not. I totally hear you on the tantrums! Especially where he's not napping anymore (otherwise sleeptime is somewhere around 10pm!).

I also *completely* agree on people not getting the fuck out of the way. I took a total header off my bike once because some group of people refused to move over a tiny bit so I could bike on the BIKE path.

Don't worry about proper posts, I like this format just fine!

Brigindo said...

I do so miss you when you don't post. Posts like this just does my heart good.

And uhm, 4? Well all I can say is hold out for 5.

Heather said...

Oh, I soooo hate it when men start that scratching business in front of me. My BIL is notorious for this and I find myself praying to sweet baby Jesus that my foot doesn't find his goods before he finds the sense to stop.

I don't want to darken your outlook any, but I'm holding out for six myself.

May said...

Number 7- I'll let you know. Dee turned four today. Let's hope it's an improvement on three.

Number 8- it's supposed to get up to 85 degrees F here Thursday. What's that- nearly 30 Celcius? Can I come stay at your house?

Aunt Becky said...

Rambling posts rule.

statia said...

At least your people use the damn sidewalks. Here, they hog the street. When we have a perfectly good fucking sidewalk. That we pay taxes for. Vexes me.

rachel said...

#7 - yes yes yes and again yes. The age of three is currently kicking my ass. Because we're stupid, we added a rambunctious puppy to the mix. I haven't really updated my blog in forevers because what's the point? I alternate between homicidal maniac and suicidal depressive every hour and would rather not have well-meaning blog readers call the men in the white coats. Not yet, anyway.

kate said...

One-- Eeeew. Just. Eeeeeeew.
Two- ditto.
Three- Sing it sister. Sidewalk hogs must DIEEEEE.
Four- yeah. I don't get it. Why is everyone so effin' concerned about the welfare of mothers who work and wringing their hands over the societal costs, etc., whilst leaving the working FATHER out entirely? Baloney, frankly.
Five- Oh, god YES. I want to post a sign in my REs office about this one. If you want to be loud, take it out in the hallway. Because I do not care and I do not like you and I do not want to like you because you assault my senses and that makes me angry.
Six- Yes, love the monthly reminders that things aren't working out. It's not like it's not heartbreaking enough-- it has to come with physical pain and emotional wreckage due to plummeting hormone levels. And the mess, too. Oh, lord, the mess.
Seven- I think maybe three year olds just tap into my love for punkish assholery, because the three year old class was my favorite class to teach the summer I worked in a daycare. Or else I've outgothed you by being such an incredible masochist.
Eight- It's actually simultaneously chilly and sunny here. I don't like it right now. It doesn't suit my mood. It was warm and rainy for the last several weeks, and now, it's just gone and flipped itself, and I feel like I got cheated out of my last chance of indian summer with all the stupid rain. And got all the rain without any of the chill. I'm sure I'll get plenty of it as we move into winter, but really. It's not jiving with me right now.

Kristi said...

P and Isabella were separated at birth. I am sure of it.

And #8-I am so with you on that one, and everyone I know thinks I'm certifiable because of it.

Molly said...

Wait, complaining about 20 degrees C? COMPLAINING? That is 68 DEGREES. That is ROOM TEMPERATURE.

The high was only 85 today and we were partying in Southern Louisiana.

I think I would freeze to death in England.

Anonymous said...

the terrible twos are followed by the thunderous threes, which are followed by the fucking fours.

elizasmom said...

Yeeeees! I just killed some teenagers WITH MY EYES this morning for not getting out of my way while I was running.

And, yes on number 6. It's half the reason why I have the Mirena. I used to pass out when I started my period (not figuratively, LITERALLY be a psycho, and then when stupid Aunt Fricking Flo came back 5 weeks after I birthed my baby, whom I was NURSING, I pretty much said, OK, DONE NOW.

And as for your three-year-old, duuuuude. The terrible twos were really not that terrible around our house, but three? Three was fucking CARNAGE in some spots.

hairyfarmer said...

Agreeing with Oh So Much of this. Re: the weather... if it doesn't cool down and rain soon, John will cry, I'm sure of it!

Anonymous said...

I'm dreading going back to work on Monday. OK, so it's raining now and the office won't parboil me by lunch, but DEAR GOD THE DAMNED STUDENTS, jiggling their junk, asking stupid questions, relentless queues of them, mobile phones playing tinny versions of some dingbat pop-hit as they shuffle up to you and startle you with their halitosis/violent sneezes/amazing idiocy. Oops, I ranted there a bit.

P is adorable. My own littlest sister, at that age, used to just SCREAM and head-butt people.

I think I agree with pretty much everything else too.

Miz S said...

I remember 3 as being a very challenging age. 4 was adorable and sweet, but don't forget my girls are in their 20's now so who the hell knows if my memory is playing tricks on me or not.

ARGHH! People who take up a sidewalk walking 3 abreast verrrrrry sloooooowly should be flogged.