happy birthday to the good doctor...

Even though it was the 15th, we'll tip our hats today...

And now on to my long rant of bitching, moaning and complaining--the traditional Monday-riffic thing to do at HATamaran.

I didn't blog much over the weekend...sometimes you just need to break your routine to escape the rut you're in. I'm feeling better but I am none-too-happy to be here on a Monday. I'm never happy about Monday. I burned out about five years ago and still I am trying to get to a point where I can leave this job behind.

Anyway, Friday night was especially fun because hubby and I met another couple and we all went to see The Breakfast Club. They are a really great 80's cover band. We had fun singing and dancing to all our favorite songs. The only bad thing was that we were a group of old farts surrounded by a sea of drunk puberts. I felt like everyone's freakin' mom when I went to the bathroom...with all of them primping and tugging at their tiny lycra outfits. Ah, to be that firm all over again... Oh well.

And that's one of the most irritating things about Knoxville. It has about 17,000 university students who take over the bars and nightlife. There are NO fun places to go if you are in your 30's or older. You are either drowning in a sea of puberts or you go out to eat. Or you can hang in the famously cheesy Mich*els restaurant and bar...for which you must be over 30, divorced, hopelessly horny, have an creepy-looking tan, smoke five packs a day, bathe in cologne and have no class or high school education. I know that's mean, but I've been there and I know *chuckle*.

The other thing that pisses me off about nightspots in general is the gigantic cloud of smoke you are exposed to. I am always sick the next day with a horrible sinus headache--drinky or no drinky. And I stink so bad I have to take a shower before I can go to bed. Friday night we didn't get home until about 2:30 am and I although I was dead tired I STILL had to shower and wash my hair because I just felt filthy. Ugh. And I'm an ex-smoker, too!

Let's see...what else pisses me off? How about when I am suddenly one stitch short while knitting a lace scarf? Oh yeah. And I can't figure out where I screwed up, so I rip half of it out and I am still a stitch short--so I rip it all out and start a 5x5 rib angora scarf instead and feel utterly defeated. That's okay, I'll fight that battle again another day. Lace knitting makes me sweat, but I'm not giving up yet.

What else, what else...And then there's people who are just plain scary. While recently shopping the local dollar store for batteries and cheap dog toys for Sadie-the-destroyer, I couldn't help but hear the conversation of a man and his son standing behind me in the check-out line. The son had picked out a toy gun and the father remarked that the gun would be good for "shooting cops."

Okeedokee. (Note to self: avoid this person and all his relatives--forever.)

And you wonder how kids get f*cked up. That's how.

Ahhh-h-h-h-h. Sometimes it just feels good to be bitchy for a minute or two.

Late Addition: Oh, and don't even get me started about the Google-search of "poison + raccoons." You are a just an asshole. Unless these intelligent little creatures are eating your newborn babies, call freaking animal control or your local wildlife agent. What is WRONG with you?

Now. I feel all better.