It’s not a great day for me. I’m dreading a confrontational meeting tomorrow. So I am going to purge all of my hateful feelings in an effort to cleanse my psyche.

1. Slugs: why do they exist? All they do is eat the plants in my garden before they get a chance to grow. They don’t pollinate like the otherwise obnoxious bee. They don’t aerate the soil like earthworms. The universal remedy for slug infestation is to put out a saucer of beer, which supposedly they can’t resist, and into which they dive and then drown. My slugs do not like beer. I have tried cheap beer and imported beer, and they say, “No thanks, I prefer dahlias and pansies.” I think the world could do just fine without slugs.


2. Gratuitous titles: as an attorney, I am required to call judges “Your Honor.” It’s automatic by now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s stupid. If I were a judge, I would insist that everyone in my courtroom call me Randi. The best is when I have to write a letter to a judge, saying something like this: “At the close of today’s hearing, Your Honor stated that the record was closed. I wish to bring to Your Honor’s attention that Your Honor agreed, during the hearing, to leave the record open for two weeks in order for me to get more information to Your Honor about the claimant’s recent medical treatment. I am respectfully asking Your Honor to note in the record that Your Honor agreed to hold the record open, and also asking Your Honor to confirm that Your Honor has done this in a letter to me from Your Honor.”


3. Expectations: I have opined about this before.  Expectations are big trouble.  Today the husband said, “You didn’t ask me how my toe was feeling.” WHAT? He said his toe hurt last night. I massaged said toe. I didn’t realize a follow up visit was required. “Oh, well, that was the worst pain I ever felt in my life, so I thought you would want to know it was better.” Well, first of all, I doubt that was the worst pain you ever felt in your life, although I realize you have never endured childbirth. Secondly, just REPORT to me. Don’t wait for me to ask. You’re lucky I remember your name, much less the state of your toe.


4. Overly friendly people and their wily tricks: I am an introvert, and I treasure my alone time. I don’t appreciate it when some extrovert contacts me and asks, “Are you doing anything this weekend?” TRAPPED! My choice is to quickly make up something compelling — “Uh, yes, I was planning to knit beanies for premature babies in Africa all weekend” — or risk being forced to meet up with the extrovert and spend a boring evening hearing about his life.  Why can’t they say, “Do you have time to do something this weekend?” or “Do you feel like doing something?” or “Would this be a good weekend for us to get together?”  They can’t, because they are extroverts and they assume EVERYONE wants to be doing something with other people at all times.  I am unable to comfortably answer with the truth: “I am doing NOTHING, just the way I like it.”

doing-nothing-then-rest6. Heat: I don’t do well in the hot weather. Needless to say, my mood has not been stellar of late, despite air conditioning almost everywhere I go. Sometimes there isn’t enough air conditioning in the world to satisfy me. I work next to a vegetarian who is always cold (because he is a vegetarian, in my opinion. He needs some MEAT to provide inner warmth). He has been wearing sweaters these past few weeks and insists that the a/c at work must be at 72 degrees. I am shvitzing. I have two fans going in my office. I’m drinking iced tea by the keg. And it’s not even summer yet.


7. Taylor Swift: I can’t express how much I loathe this person. The songs she writes are terrible. Her voice is mediocre. She pretends to be Miss Innocent Wide-Eyed Country Gal while swiving every man in sight. She inexplicably wins awards by the truckload (seriously, EIGHT Billboard Awards just last week?) – so many that there is an entire Wikipedia entry devoted to listing all of them:

I thought I hated Katie Perry and Miley Cyrus, but they are Lennon and McCartney when compared to T.S.

And here is the ultimate insult:


Even though Mick & Co. are old enough to be Tay-Tay’s grandpas, it’s still a complete travesty that she should perform in the same universe, much less on the same stage, with them. I am nauseous.

Don’t bother defending her, or telling me your children adore her. I know the truth.

I’ve only just begun to purge! But I feel better already. Thanks for listening.



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