I was awoken at the crack of 9am this morning by a phone call from the friendly automated UPS notification system. I was trying to get fully awake to understand what the computer was telling me when the voice on the other line asked me in ENGLISH if I wanted to continue the call in ENGLISH, and that I needed to press 1 now. Nothing gets me more awake or pissy first thing in the morning than an oxymoronic phone call.
So basically this phone notification was to tell me that I was going to be getting two, count 'em, TWO packages today and that someone needed to be home to sign for them. It then went on to tell me that if no one was home then the packages could not be delivered and notification would be left at my door about the hoops I would have to jump through and the random guy named Ahkmed that I would have to suck off down at my local UPS store to actually get my packages out of hock. Yay. That just fucked all my plans for the day. I needed to go get gas for the month before prices got to $15 bucks a gallon, AND I needed to get some pictures printed out for my father's day cards that I am sending to Tennessee. Not that they are going to get there in time at this point.
So I settled down for the morning with my cup or three of coffee, and while I was waiting on "what BROWN could do for you," to show up and make my day, I started catching up on all the blogs that I am supposed to read at least once a week. While I was doing that (and having a great laugh to boot, you people are hilarious) FCB sat his fat ass down next to me on the couch with a bowl of cereal full enough to feed an African village, and said to me and I am quoting here...
"Go make me a couple of PB&J sandwiches for work."
Uh...did I somehow magically get "FCB's bitch" tattooed across my forehead while I was sleeping? I fucking laid into him! I asked him how hard would it be to say please or could you? Would it kill him to be a little nicer to me? All this lead of course to him lamenting how he can never catch a break and here goes the potty mouth and how I am such a child and.......
Bite me MUTHAFUCKER! I am not your personal servant. I am not even my own personal servant. If I could train my 4 year old to go make ME a "snammich" I would.
It just seems to be my morning. I would go back to bed if I hadn't already had 3 cups of coffee and wasn't waiting on the damn UPS guy. All I can hope for to salvage my day is if the delivery guy is cute, hasn't been with a woman in 10 years, is horny as all get out, and is scheduled for a 15 minute break.
Hey...a girl can dream, can't she?
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
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4 comments:
I often have that dream myself. Oh, what brown could do for me.
Hey, maybe one of those packages is the replacement for your friend that passed away last week.
Actually, they just showed up. It wasn't Bob's replacement. It was however the light box display for some artwork that was purchased on vacation. And the UPS guy was cute, friendly, suprised that I got a phone call, but for all the flirt-fishing I was doing, he wasn't biting. He seemed in a hurry. I knew I should have answer the door topless...
Most men just can't resist the power of BOOBS.
Um yeah, I can pretty much get anything I want out of my husband by the mere promise of some boob action.
Men are simple creatures. I responded to your email, did you get it?
dontcha love those automated call thingys that assume everyone is awake at the butt crack o' dawn.
and did the FCB not get enough sleep....or food maybe?
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