First! You all fail. You were just supposed to know better then to say ketchup on meatloaf. We are blogger friends I thought we had some kind of telekinetic bond where you could just read my mind. The reason for the question. Every time I make meatloaf it just makes sense to me that you would put gravy on it. To my husband it makes sense to put ketchup on it. Which, okay if you want your meatloaf to taste like a hamburger FINE. My problem isn’t with the ketchup it is with the 500 cups of ketchup he douses it in. After going back and fourth for a while he told me to ask you. AND YOU ALL TOOK HIS SIDE YOU BIG JERKS. You didn’t just say ketchup, but there were tons of you saying SLATHERED, DRENCHED, SOAKED. Rubbish! So, now my husband is walking around all puffed up being like "hahahah I told you so, even your blogger buddies can’t protect you." And I’m all "Watch it buddy I will so punch you in your nose."
Moving on. I’ve come across a few things lately that totally make me nuts.
The first one? When you go into a bathroom stall and there is no where to put your stuff down. The bathroom at the gym has nothing. Some bathrooms have a toilet paper holder deep enough to set something on. NOT THIS ONE. So, in order for me to pee, I have to cram my iPod down my sports bra, shove my headphones in there too, hold my sports bottle between my teeth and then try and pee. Then I have to do it all again to pull my pants up. So now I’m trying to lean over a little, not drop my bottle and OMFG why isn’t there a goddamn shelf in womens bathrooms?
It drives me nuts that in order find a sports bra that actually holds your D cups in, that means it has to be so tight that you have to wiggle and jiggle around like a hot dog to force the thing over your head. Then you have to shimmy around and look like a fool to try and convince the thing to pull down over your boobs. That isn’t the worst. The worst is then trying to get it off. So now it’s drenched in sweat and it’s sort of like pulling jeans on when you are covered in lotion only it’s worse because this thing is kind of like trying to skin an eel. So you grab on from the bottom of it pull up, your arms are struggling above your head, your legs inevitably start jumping back and forth to try and bounce the thing off. You become totally aware that everyone in the gym is now staring at you, because obviously their tiny little B cups have never had this problem with their industrial strength sports bra. At this point, your arms are tangled over your head, your bra has moved an inch and you are sweating worse then you just did during your work out. Finally the thing comes off, but some how it rolls up over your arms so now they are locked up in the bra and can’t move. After some ninja moves you finally pry the fucker off. It shoots across the locker room like a rubber band and you find yourself slumped over on the bench, your boobs dangling down to your ankles wondering why WHY GOD, do woman need sports bras?
I swear just once, I would like to see my husband not only put on, but take off a sports bra without complaining.
Moving on. I know we are all supposed to be buddy buddy women, but, that doesn’t mean I enjoy turning around to get an eye full of 50 year old vag. The worst is when it’s unavoidable. You turn around and there is a lady with one leg up on the stool proudly lotioning herself, chest up proud, and pubic hair blazing like the American flag. I hate that. They don’t even give you a chance to cover your eyes, you just turn around and WHAM right in your face!
I didn’t eat for a few hours after that.
Moving right along. I am so bent that I am starting to like that stupid new fucking Miley Cyrus song. OMFG could it be any more of a lame teeny bopper bullshit song. What is worse then liking it is going to sleep three nights in a row with that fucker in your head. Imagine trying to drift off to the sound of,
I’m noddin’ my head like "Yeah!"
Movin’ my hips like "Yeah!"
Somebody shoot me!
On the subject of music, I am ashamed to say I also found myself liking the new Rhianna song and I’m beginning to wonder if the entire music industry isn’t on a mission to totally fuck with my head.
And to conclude this little rant, there is nothing better then running out side in the morning in the freezing ass cold, barefoot to grab your sons lunchbox out of your car because you forgot it, only to step on your husbands frozen slippery early morning loogie in the drive way!