Anonymous Ranting

Dear Mother in Law,

2006-02-08T10:16:00.000-06:00

What's up?! It was such a pleasant time talking to you on the phone last night. When you said "Oh, you answer your phone now!" I was confused, so I said that. When you informed me that you had been calling your son and I since Sunday I was confused yet again. You said you called our home phone and both our cell phones. I received no messages. Nor did your son. You said "I know that, I didn't leave any messages." I assumed that would mean that you would see there was no reason to be angry with us, especially since you used calling cards instead of your cell phone that gets FREE long distance, thus making it impossible for either of us to know it was you who called since um, no messages. Silly me. Silly, silly me. Of course you are still pissed. In fact, you are literally pissed. In the drunk sense. Why wouldn't you been at 8:30 on a Tuesday night? Well, shit, I would be if I still drank.

You call to tell us that your daughter and the three cutest kids in the whole wide world (until we spawn some) are going to be coming to your house this weekend and it is family weekend at your home. We know your sister is in town. Remember how we told you a month ago to just give us some notice and we will be there? No, ok. Most people would think that calling someone 3 days before you want them to come to your town is not much notice and would understand if you couldn't make the out of town trip. Not you. You expect us to drop everything, which includes our own trip somewhere for a special occasion that you would think you would remember...our upcoming anniversary. Remember how I got all gussied up in that white dress last year? No. Oh well, you have much more important things on your mind. Like selling a bunch of your husband's things that your son asked to have so you can buy yourself a big TV. That was a stroke of genius telling him that. I applaud your tact. Have fun trash talking us this weekend. I'm sorry I won't be there to walk in on it like I did the last time your sister was in town. That was fun.

Love,

Word Vomit

Dear IRS,

2006-01-25T12:32:00.000-06:00

I just got all my tax stuff in the mail. W2s, 1099s, loan information, the works. I just wanted to take this time to let you know something.

I hate you.

Love,

Word Vomit

Dear Solicitor,

2006-01-17T13:35:00.000-06:00

Good Evening. Well, not really evening but night. Why do you keep calling? I don't answer, ever. But here you are with your 800 number yet again trying to get me to answer my phone. I know you think I need your long distance plan even though the only person I talk to regularly out of town is my drunk mother-in-law. And she calls me. And I answer a little more often than I answer your calls. It would also help if you could pronounce my name better than you do. It kind of gives you away. I certainly can say that your persistance has my admiration, but I'm still not going to answer. If I do we might have some problems. I'm on the no call list so you better either be Verizon, Charter Communications, State Farm Insurance, or my bank. Good night dear Solicator from a time zone where it isn't rude to call at 8:30 pm, good night.

Love,

Word Vomit

Dear Uncle Patrick,

2006-01-12T21:18:00.000-06:00

So, I almost went the whole day without remembering it is your birthday. Wow, this may be the first year since we have spoken that it took me so long to remember. Happy freaking 34th, man. Gee, it sure would be nice if you returned my calls. I was pretty angry with you the last time I saw you. I probably shouldn't have yelled so much, but come on that "I just rinsed my mouth out with mouthwash, I swear I'm not drunk" excuse was pretty lame. Almost as bad as the time I told your brother that some people at the party were blowing marijuana directly in my eye which accounted for the smell and the red eyes. Remember that? He grounded me for two weeks. Thank god you taught me better excuses than that or I wouldn't have seen the light of day throughout highschool. So anyway, I know you are probably still mad at me since I got you in trouble with Grandma that day. Look, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I know I cursed you for a long time, but I'm over that now. Do you think you can forgive me?

I hung out with Grandma last week and we talked about the stuff between you and I. She was pretty upset because someone told her that you and I partied together when I was in highschool and she thought that you helped make me alcoholic. Oh, you may already know this but I've been sober 4 years now. Can you believe it? Some days I can't. Anyway, I set her straight. I let her know I was using long before you and I started hanging out. Then I told her something that I don't think I figured out until the moment it came out of my mouth. You helped save my life.

The night my parents kicked me out when I was 19, I thought of you. I wanted to go find you and hang out with you. But I couldn't. I know, what a damn chicken. Two years later all strung out I was banging on the door begging my mom to let me back in the house and she wouldn't, I almost looked you up. Wussed out again. When I couldn't stop drinking even when I wanted to, I took great lengths to find you. I walked up to your door with my hand hovering inbetween knocking and running. I even wrote a letter with everything in it. All my reasons and apologies. All my excuses and I'm sorries. I was ready to knock and then a memory blotted out everything. My eighteenth birthday party. Everyone was there, but you. I saw Grandma's face that day when the police showed up at the door. The day they told us they found you in your car. The day my Dad read us your letter. The day I realised that after the argument we had about you relasping, you killed yourself. I couldn't go see you. I couldn't give our family anymore pain. I couldn't hate myself anymore. I would see 24, because you couldn't.

Happy Birthday! I'm so happy now, really. I have never known this much peace and serenity. Thank you for saving my life.

Love,

Word Vomit

P.S. Arnold Schwarzenegger is the Govenor of California. Yeah, the guy from Terminator, Predator, Twins. Can you believe that shit.

Dear Postal Worker,

2006-01-12T13:32:00.000-06:00

Hi. It's me, the incredibly patient smiling customer you encountered mearly an hour ago. Oh, you don't remember me? Not surprised, not surprised. I definately got my calf workout standing in my 4 inch shoes for 45 minutes, thanks I need some toning. As well as enjoyment from the 6 customers you systematically pissed off infront of me. You really are a treat. I am amazed at the speed in which you execute your job. Customer leaves. You wonder around as if someone has slipped you a roofy to the place you need to put the package the former customer wants shipped. You set it down and you watch it for about 10 seconds to make sure it doesn't jump up and make a break for it out the door. You are diligent. As you slowly turn back towards the counter you make a conscience effort to make no eye contact with the restless, package weight shifting, huffing, loudly saying "are you kidding me?!" customers in line. Then in a stroke of pure genuis you strike up a conversation with your fellow worker about how busy you have been and you can't wait until the day is over. By this point you have made it back to you counter and naturally instead of asking for the next customer, you and your co-worker discuss what you will do this evening. I know, I know. The nerve of that lady who was next in line going up to your counter and saying "ok, you are ready for me now!" Come on, how rude can you get. You were totally justified in staring her down and saying "Ma'am, I was not finished with the last customers request." Even better, you finished your conversation and moved the electronic number from 54 to 55. We need people like you working on our defecit. Time for some Can Do people.

When you get to me, my legs shaking from standing in place for 45 minutes, you go on a break. You deserved it. My hat is off to you. Well done!

Love,

Word Vomit

Dear Restricted Angry Friend,

2006-01-11T11:06:00.000-06:00

Hey, what's new? I mean, besides the fact that you restricted your phone number when you called me last night. What's up with that? I'm the one who called you and left a message that we need to talk. Did you think that when you called I would see that it was you and not answer the phone? Now that would be passive aggresive behavior, which we all know I am not good at. You, however, are the king. But you left me a message and that is how I know it was you. This may explain all the restricted calls I've seen on the ole cell phone lately. I don't answer restricted calls, so the attitude you gave me on the message you left seemed oddly misplaced. If you had called without the trusty *67 and your name had come up, I would have answered my phone. How did I know that you used *67? I was in grade school once too, you know.

I feel like you are some stalker boyfriend that I need to breakup with. Yes, yes I do. Oh, and it's you, not me.

Dear Angry Friend,

2006-01-07T19:16:00.000-06:00

Hey, how are you. Did you know that I quit smoking? Did you know that I have been sick for many moons? Or that my husband got promoted and we have a company car and cell phone? No? Huh, I wonder why you didn't know that. Are you aware that I am married? Oh yeah, of course you do. That was when you were nice funny friend and you were in the wedding. What happened?

Why is everyone in the world suddenly an asshole? I think the last time we spoke I fell asleep on the phone because the so and so who fucked you over #110 kinda bored me. I know you are mad at me because I wouldn't let you go off on my best friend and I got a tad frustrated when you wouldn't stop yelling about what an ass my husband is for calling you out on being a wee bit controlling when we all wanted to go ice skating, you were the only one that didn't and you said "No, we ARE NOT going ice skating. How fucking stupid is that? No, I'm not going. Whoever road in my car, we are going to the movies." Sorry, I tend to agree with him. My mom always says that if there is 1 asshole in your life, he's probably an asshole. If there are 2 assholes in your life, there may be two assholes. If there are 3 assholes in your life, you are the asshole. Get off the cross we need the wood.

Love,

Word Vomit

P.S. Regina George called, she wants her attitude back.

Dear Dr's ASSistant,

2006-01-03T15:13:00.000-06:00

Hi. Remember me? I'm the lady who called you at nine this morning. Uh, I told you that I have been sick for a few weeks and gave you all my symptoms. You were pretty rude. I told you I didn't just want a precription, that I wanted to see the Dr, but you said that you wanted to talk to him first and see if he just wanted to call in a script. Is any of this ringing any bells? I'm guessing it isn't because it is now 3:15 and I left you another message an hour ago and still have yet to hear from you. By the way, the color of my snot has changed. Now there is blood in it. I will be changing Dr's and faxing the letter I created if I don't hear from you by the end of the day.

What? You're not scared? I would be. There our eight of us in my family who see your Dr. and I just called my mom and she is willing to change Dr's too. It's all in my letter.

Have a wonderful day,

Word Vomit

Dear Walgreens Cashier,

2005-12-30T08:47:00.000-06:00

I know your job is hard. Real hard. I understand that it is difficult to grasp that in the ten minutes you have been "stocking" the shelf at 8:15 this morning, a ginormous line of 12 people has formed at your cash register. Weird, isn't it? I also get that when you amble to your register with the speed of a elderly person with alzhemers trying navagate their way home, you need to stare at each one of us with an amazed "how did you manage to form such a big line without my knowledge" look. But where my confusion sets in is why you don't seem to understand how your scanner works. I believe that this is an intregal part of your job. You continuously move the same side of the tampon box pass the scanner like a teenager who is constantly turning on the fuzzy porn channel in the hopes of seeing some titties. He never does. When you stare at the box with the same amount of confusion that my husband does when I ask him to put his dishes in the sink, I am trying really hard not to take your head and bounce it into the counter. But to beat all, when I inquire if this is your first day on the job I'll be damned if you didn't tell me that you have been here for a year. I love that you then stare all me as if you have been smoking the wacky tabacy all night and ask "why?"

Love,

Word Vomit

Dear Mother-in-Law,

2005-12-29T14:14:00.000-06:00

Why are you such a bitch? When you would come over to our house, get drunk and tell my husband that he never loved you, I didn't rip your eyes out. I was young, we were living in sin, you didn't care about that like my parents did. Um, and I was drunk too.

When you would call the house drunk and go on and on about what an asshole your husband was and how nobody appreciates you, I didn't hang up on you. No, in fact I even sometimes listened inbetween setting the phone down to see if you were still there.

When your son and I got back together and you got drunk and told me how suprised you were because he had been dating a really nice girl, I didn't pull out your hair. No, I smiled and reminded myself that you have a disease. Never mind that half of my Irish Catholic family is full of active alcoholics that are just plain fun when they are drunk, you are certainly not to blame for your behavior. No sir ee.

When your husband committed suicide and your children were devestated that the only normal parent was now gone and you went off on him, I calmed you down, hugged you and let you know that you could vent to me so that, god forbid, you wouldn't vent to your children.

When you declared that you wouldn't set foot in that house again, I didn't look at you and tell you to grow the fuck up. I packed up your clothes and orchastrated my friends to move you the apartment.

When you declared that you were indeed an alcoholic, I took to you some AA meetings and talked to you when you needed too. When I called you to wish you a happy year birthday and you were drunk, I didn't call you a liar. Nope, I just watched some TV inbetween listening to you.

When my parents threw us an engagement party and you told my mother "man, it must be nice to live like this. Nothing to worry about, life must be real good for you." thus making my mother very uncomfortable, I did not tell you to leave and apolygise to my mother. Nor did I tell you that my mom's mother died 1 month before her wedding and by the time she was 24 her father and brother were dead or that my father was laid off two years earlier and all the other non self induced struggles my parents have gone through. Nope, I smiled and introduced you to my grandmother who was ready to strangle you.

When your daughter took a bunch of pills and almost died and you got drunk and blamed your dead husband, I didn't tell your son. Even though I knew that would put the nail in the coffin of your relationship with him, I kept silent.

When I was telling a story and I stated tha you and my mom are the same age (when you clearly look like her mother) and you interupted me and said "money can buy you lots of things" and laughed with your daughters friends, I didn't claw your eyes out. Considering my mother has never had any work done, that was some fabulous restraint on my part.

I am tired now dear lady and my little fingers are tired from the typidy type typing, I will stop there.

Hate,

Word Vomit

Dear Tailgater from this morning,

2005-12-29T13:19:00.000-06:00

While I understand the need to get to work on time, raming your car up my ass isn't going to get you there any the quicker. Also, when I can see that you have a booger in need of picking, back off jack off. I guess you don't understand that I'm not all that right in the head. Your need to ride me like only my husband does makes me want to slow down from 70 mph to 55 mph. Oh yes, I know this will anger you. In fact I take much pleasure from the honking and silent screaming I see you doing from my rear view mirror. It warms my heart to see you looking like an epileptic in close proximity to a strob light. When I speed up because you have changed lanes and are trying to get around me, I'm aware that I have just declared war. Don't worry, I don't have any children and my life is heavily insured.

Love,
Word Vomit

P.S. Yes, you did see me screaming TAWANDA! Eat shit!

I will rant and rave

2005-12-29T12:21:00.000-06:00

I need a place to speak my fucked up thoughts and I have found that a diary doesn't give me any feedback. That and I type faster than I write. I am also lazy.

I am a relatively nice person. I enjoy many things. I also get pissed at many things. This is what this blog will be about. What I get angry about. If you came here to find some uplifting prose that will help you feel better, hit the X at the top right of your screen. If you get pissed off at things, stay, relate, or tell me I'm nuts.