Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Don't Say I Didn't Warn Ya

I am in a FOUL-ass mood. To say that I'm cranky or grumpy just doesn't cover it. Not even close. Michael Stipe is belting out "Shiny Happy People" right now in my living room with that chick from the B-52s and all I want to do is interject somehow into the song and tell them both to SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY. That song, when you're not in the right mood for it -- no, even when you ARE in the right mood for it, is so annoying it beats even that song about Fish Heads/Fish know the song I'm talking about...Michael Stipe of all people singing about Shiny Happy People? Seriously?

I tried to do some yoga when I got home to get me all zen and de-foul-assed. Popped in my usually never-disappointing Rodney Yee tape. And in my uppity state that only served to make me ANGRIER because all I could focus on was how many dustbunnies and specks of filth from my floor were being magnetically drawn to my sticky mat.

And the cat still won't eat.


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