Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Castigating Coworkers

I can’t take one more minute.  I have to vent.  Mass consumption of alcoholic beverages in the evenings after work hasn’t helped improve my mood regarding my job.  Most days I don’t mind my job.  Yes, it’s boring, it’s mundane, it offers no challenges, but it pays decent, and has pretty good benefits, so I stay.  Most days I don’t mind the people I work with, but let’s just say the last month or so, I really just want to throat punch most of them.  Let me tell you why.

1.  Am I the only one who knows how to hang a new roll of toilet paper?  Are you just trying to be a smart ass bitch by leaving two fucking squares of shitter paper on the roll?  I appear to be the only one who stocks the fucking toilet paper, the least you other bitches could do is hang a new fucking roll up once in awhile!

2.  Hey asshole that brings the Milky Way  Dark candy bars in and puts them in the refrigerator.  I hate you.  That’s one of my most favorite candy bars of all time.  I just hate you.

3.  I’m not your maid, your mother doesn’t live here, clean up after yourself.  Isn’t that just basic, common courtesy?  I get tired of vacuuming, and picking up all the papers you left in the copy room.  I get tired of cleaning up the coffee you spilled on the kitchen floor.

4.  The last time I checked work starts at 7 a.m.; that doesn’t mean 7:10, or 7:30, or 7:49, that means fucking 7.  Considering you take off more days than anyone else in the office, the least you could do is come to work on time on the days you are here.  Oh, and maybe stay until 4?  I’m not really sure why he lets you get away with it.

5.  Have you ever heard the term “make-do”??  Why don’t you try that?  Why do you have to have a certain type of folder, or pencil, or notebook?  Does it look like we’re actually making any money around here?

6.  Prioritize.  All of us have to do it.  I am tired of your fucking excuses.  I am not perfect.  I fuck up.  I can admit.  You never do.  Admit you’re fucking up.  Until you admit you’re fucking up, you can’t fix it.  Quit ignoring the fact we have a serious situation on our hands.  You are fucking everything up for the rest of us.

I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. . . . .

 

Wordle Wednesday

Yeah!!! Wordle Wednesday!! Why do I love this so much? Searching for just the right word, to construct the poem. . . just love it! Here’s mine this week!!

Exposed. . .
Like the soft flesh of my belly,
You threw your arms around my chest,
So desperate were you,
Trying to harvest time,
Like minutes were vegetables,
Wanting it to trickle slowly instead of run,
Like it always seems to do when we are close

Ten Famous Autocorrected Quotes – Volume Two

He fucking did it again!! How could he? I just got my pants dried out from the last round of these piss-your-pants-funny autocorrected quotes! You have to read this shit, because they will give you the best laugh you’ve had in a long time. Oh, and I’m sure this will garner him even more followers than he already has!! Enjoy my laziness, and the fruits of his brilliant comedic mind!

The Dimwit Diary's avatarThe Dimwit Diary

Suppose a young man with a wild imagination and too much time on his hands went to a greasy spoon diner one evening at 3 AM.   Suppose the same young man grew tired of all the belligerent drunks and lot lizards that usually frequent a greasy spoon diner late at night, so he began to surf the interwebs on his smart phone to occupy his time until his gyro omelette and rye toast were ready to be served.

Suppose that while killing time surfing the interwebs, the young man came across some famous quotes and later stumbled upon the humorous website, Damn You Autocorrect.  Now suppose the imaginative young man with too much time on his hands got to thinking:

“What if all the famous authors, poets, artists, philosophers, and great leaders of history had to use a smart phone to type their inspiring quotes?  Would their quotes sound any…

View original post 82 more words

My Last Name is Control

controlHe’s said it more than once, “You kind of like to control everything, don’t you?”  It’s true, I do like to be in control.  I was what many would call a “bossy” kid, and I suppose this has led to me being a “bossy” adult.  I am a leader, not a follower, and will attempt to manipulate people to come to my dark side, and do as I wish.  And if I can’t use the art of persuasion to get you to do what I want, or see my side of things, then at times I will try to force you to.

Problem?  He doesn’t want to be controlled (most people don’t).  He has made that very clear, yet he always seems to hand me his problems, seeking my advice and guidance.  Is he aware you shouldn’t hand a fixer such as myself, a problem and not expect me to give you numerous solutions?  I guess he must not be.  He told me last night I sound like his mother.  That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear.  I told him I don’t want to be his mother, but was just trying to make a point.

He says I am a debater, that I can’t just say something and let it go.  It’s true.  Why do I feel the need to justify myself to everyone?  I think it’s because of my need to control.  I want to influence people to understand why I feel the things I do, because I’m not okay with feeling it, saying it, and letting them deal with.

Control is an illusion.  I can’t control another human being, unless they allow me to, and to be honest, I don’t really want to control anyone, let alone a man I am in a relationship with.  I want to be comfortable enough in my own skin, that I can let go and allow life to happen.  I want to release my worries and anxieties, and allow people to make their own choices about things, and live their lives the way they see fit.  Some days letting go of control is easy for me.  Other days, it isn’t so easy and I battle it.  I think I need to keep this quote handy, to remind me neither sunsets, nor people, will be beautiful if I attempt to manipulate them.

 

Wordle Wednesdays

I am really enjoying Wordle Wednesdays!! It’s my lazy way of doing Bad Poetry!! Give it a try, you might like it too.

May Day, A Red Schwinn, and A Damn Kick Stand!

May DayI can’t believe tomorrow is the first of May already.  My son will be going to stay with his Dad all summer once school gets out on the 17th, and I will have the visitation as opposed to his Dad.  This is going to be sort of a trial run, to see how things go.  No decisions have been made yet, regarding where he will live and go to school next year.  I am glad that time hasn’t come yet.  My son, unlike me, seems to have made up his mind.  Why is it so easy for him to go?

If you’re my age, you might remember May Day being kind of a big thing.  I grew up in a tiny town in Kansas and only had about 12 kids in my class.  About half of the kids lived in town, the other half lived outside of town; most on farms.  Every May Day, I would make May baskets and deliver them to the kids in town, and at school we would make a Maypole around the tether ball pole, usually with strips of fabric cut out of colorful old sheets.

One year I remember making May baskets with my mother out of some old wallpaper we had around.  We fashioned the wallpaper into cones, and made handles for them.  We stuffed them with an assortment of Brach’s Pick-A-Mix wrapped candies, and lilacs from the big bush near our driveway.  I put all the May baskets in my bike basket and set off on my deliveries.  When I delivered the May baskets I would set them on the porch, ring the bell and run like crazy back to my bike, hoping to get out of sight before the receiver came to the door.  I wasn’t so worried about delivering to the girls, it was the stops at the boys’ houses that I worried about, because you had to worry about the kisses.  Yes, you had to run like hell after ringing that doorbell at a boy’s house, because they would try to catch you and kiss you!

One boy in our class would lie in waiting every May Day just to try and tackle a girl delivering a May basket.  He was a particularly short and stumpy boy, who didn’t run very fast, so I thought I still had a pretty good chance of getting away because I outran him in PE every day.  I parked my Red Schwinn, complete with bell, on the sidewalk. . . .I walked stealthily towards the door, trying to tread lightly across the boards of the porch lest they squeak and give me away. . . I checked to see if the curtain swayed. . . .I laid the May basket with it’s fragrant lavender and white lilacs every so gently near the door. . . .I stood up to knock or push the bell. . . .the door opened. . . .oh shit!!!. . . .I made a mad dash towards my parked bike. . . .how was I going to get on it and get purchase on the pedals in time to get away from him. . . . .I knew what was coming and didn’t want to face it. . . .just a couple more steps. . .grab the bike. . . .hop on. . . .damn kick stand. . . .CAUGHT!!. . . .a big smooch on the cheek from the boy who hit a line drive into the side of my head in third grade!!  What a nightmare!!  How was I going to show my face in school the next day??  Of course I did, and lived through all the ribbing, and in another year or so I moved from that town when my parents got divorced.

You know I saw that guy at a Wendy’s a few months ago, in the town I currently live in.  I didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t recognize me.  Seeing him made me wonder if he remembers that particular first day of May, when he was able to grab a May Day smooch.

 

 

Forgiveness

Forgiveness

To remind myself why I am such a forgiving person. . .

Don of All Trades Does It Again!

I know, you’re saying to yourself, “Oh shit, what has Don done now??”.  Well, he won one of those damn award things, and has passed the thing on to me, amongst a few others.  It’s not that I’m not grateful, it’s just that I totally suck at passing these things on.  There are numerous blogs I try to keep up with, and many deserving of awards, but when it comes to all the pasting of links, and making up questions, I get lazy!  Actually, it’s more the fact I have a limited amount of time in each day, and I choose to get my whopping 5 hours of sleep as opposed to handing one hour over to typing up shit for a blog award.   I know, sounds quite superior and bitchy of me, doesn’t it?

Seriously, I do appreciate it so much when a fellow blogger passes on an award to me.  It’s nice to know that Don enjoys chuckling over my “relationship train wrecks” so much, that he felt I needed an award!  Words hurt Don.  I am officially teary-eyed over here now.  Just kidding.  I do kind of feel like punching you in the throat though.  Just kidding about that too.  If you haven’t checked out Don of All Trades, get your ass over there and do so!  Not only does he help keep the mean streets free of crime, (I think maybe he has a night gig as Batman) he is also one funny mother fucker, who every once in awhile will throw a story in that tugs at your heart strings and makes you tear up a bit.

Without further adieu, I will now answer the questions Don has asked of his nominees, because I know he’s dying to know more about what makes this Fat Bottom Girl’s milk shake bring all the boys to the yard!

So now here are 11 questions for my nominees:

  1. If you could introduce your husband or boyfriend to someone and had to tell his occupation during the introduction, what would you want that occupation to be?  That Magnum uses his penis to make the molds for their XL condoms.
  2. Pancakes or waffles?  Waffles all the way!!  Pancakes are fucking syrup suckers that piss me off!  There’s never enough syrup for a damn pancake, regardless how much syrup you put on there.  WTF?
  3. Favorite professional sports team?  Ummm. . . .no.  I have much better things to do with my time than to worry about shit like that.  I do know the Royals seem to be starting out the season rather well though. 
  4. City in the USA not named New York, Boston, LA, Dallas, Chicago or Miami that you’d like to visit?  Right now my list includes Austin, New Orleans, and Savannah. 
  5. Vacation time!  Where do you go if it can be anywhere?  Someplace with beaches and clear blue water.
  6. What’s a regret you have that sometimes eats at you?  That I pissed away my voice.  I loved singing, and was pretty good at it at one time, but just let it fall by the wayside.
  7. You can change one thing about your husband/boyfriend.  What is that thing?  It would be nice if he were more spontaneously affectionate.  He’s not very touchy-feely, and outside of the bedroom there’s limited physical contact besides a slap on the ass once in awhile.
  8. When’s the last time you were drunk?  Last weekend??  lol
  9. What would you do for a Klondike bar?  I think the better question is, what wouldn’t I do for a Klondike bar??
  10. If you could…if Jesus insisted that you murder one person, who would it be (I’m excluded please) –  The man who molested my daughter.  That was an easy choice.
  11. Best thing you’ve ever eaten?  I’m kind of a foodie, so I can’t answer this one without making a list a half mile long! 

Tipton Terrors

I am going to grace you with another bit of bad poetry. You can thank Kira over at Wrestling Life, for the inspiration, due to her Wordle Wednesdays she recently started. It’s kind of fun, and gets the old brain box ticking, eyes searching to see what interesting words lie within the wordle, and what kind of bad poetry can be written from them! Enjoy, or just detest me for posting some more of this horrendous shit. Either way, Tipton is an actual, primarily Catholic town in Kansas. Freaky shit when it shows up in the wordle, huh?

Tipton,
another small,
constricted,
primarily Catholic,
Kansas town,

wheat waves,
accusing eyes,
words heard,
bowels constricted,
desperate reality,
avoid guiltily,

“Sir, . . . Sir. . the flight’s at the gate, you can depart the plane now.”

Decisions

Decisions

Decide for yourself. Don’t let anyone else dictate to you, who you are.

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