Lisa Gerardy's Blog, page 22

Time Warner and other Piss Poor Products

I thought If I climbed in the damn thing I could make it work. It just made me grouchy.

I love to share my product experiences with people. If you follow me on the social interwebs, you know that I love Smart Flour, Posh Cosmetics, and the Papillion Spa. I’m always giving them a thumbs-up because I truly love the products and services. I am not paid to say good things about them. I just love them. So, I figured it would be fair if I am just as honest about the goods and services I have used that absolutely suck, and here they are.

Time Warner Internet – This is by far the suckiest Internet service I have ever had, and I have worked entirely online for ten years. So, Internet service is something I use all day, every day. My Time Warner service is so fucktastically slow that I swear my router is powered by a geriatric hamster on a wheel. This poor rodent gets tired frequently. Hell, it may even die and be replaced by another hamster, or maybe even a gerbil. So then, I must use my Verizon Mifi, which actually works BETTER than my home Internet. We have called Time Warner numerous times, and they are sending yet another person to our house this week. For real. If you see me on the news, you know it didn’t go well. Update: Time Warner just had some poor dude from India call my cell phone to “resolve the issue remotely.” It’s an issue with the equipment outside.  I’m not sure how many times I said “fucking” while telling him to call my husband and no, we are not doing this remotely.

AT&T gets the one finger salute.

AT&T Cell Service – I live in a medium to large city, not a swamp or cave, so you would expect that my cell service would actually work, ya know since I pay for it and all. AT&T is HORRIBLE in my town. I feel like I would get a better signal if I wrapped myself in foil and did interpretive dance with my phone always pointed southwest. We did call the AT&T people to see if we could get out of our contract to switch to Verizon, which actually works in our area. They said no, but ever so kindly SOLD us a Microcell tower so we could get a signal in our house. Unfortunately, we still don’t get a signal elsewhere. Thanks, assholes. As soon as our contract is up, Verizon gets our business.

This just moved the cat fur around my sweater.

Norwex – I went to a friend’s house for a Norwex cleaning product party because I love this friend dearly. Normally, I say no to crap like this. If I want to buy anything, I buy it from Amazon as nature intended. To be honest, I was impressed with the Norwex demonstration at the party, so I ordered a dusting mitt and a lint “brush” mitt. I planned on ordering more stuff later. I’m glad I didn’t because both of these mitts are as useless as a more famous Mitt that we all may know. The FREE roll of tape lint remover that my dry-cleaner gave me for Christmas works better.

If by “sucks” you mean “not at all” we have a winner.

Dyson – Yes, we Americans just cream our shorts over a British accent, don’t we? This is why we end up buying really expensive things that don’t fucking work. Jaguar, anyone? This is how my family ended up with a Dyson vacuum. I fell in love with Mr. Dyson’s voice on the commercials, had 1 or 25 sexual dreams about him, and talked my husband into buying one of his “better” vacuums. I’m shaking my head at myself. I should have just gotten another Hoover at Target, as I refuse to shop at Walmart. Seriously, we have to fully dismantle this Dyson, which is supposedly the PET model, after every third or fourth use or the spinning brush will not spin and the damn vacuum will NOT suck, which makes it suck in my book.

I’ve exhausted myself from spewing all of this sucky product anger. Please, tell me what products you have wasted your hard-earned money on. I would love to hear from you in the comment section. I’m off to pour myself a glass of wine to keep my head from exploding.

Ten Tiresome Facebook Friends

Andre and his Hitler mustache

Recently, I announced that I am going to stop filtering myself. Yes, readers, I HAVE been holding back. I know this is frightening. It frightens me, too, but I do need to be more honest in my writing. I’ve already been pretty honest when speaking. I have seen people’s faces twitch when I say something brutally honest. It gives me that warm Christmas feeling. So, in the spirit of communicating like Sophia on the Golden Girls, here are some Facebook friend clichés, along with sample statuses, found in EVERYONE’S friend list.

Concrete Charisma — nothing but eight pack ab gym selfies all the time. They also post “facts” about how carbs are evil and everyone should eat an entire cow every day. He or she always has a recipe for brownies made out of organic cat shit and black beans, or some such nonsense.

“Just ate a quarter of a teaspoon of mashed potatoes. I need to do a complete colon cleanse and double my gym time.”

Sportsy McSports Sports — Every damn day there’s another post about “the game” or “that player who got traded” or “tickets to the game.”

“Somebody smack the ref. WE had the ball on the 29th down. Beer!”   We? I don’t remember you getting off the couch, suiting up, and playing, Mr. Sportsmeister.

Lookin’ for Love in all the Wrong Places — You know this person; you may be related to him or her. You very well may BE this person. There are telltale signs like numerous baby daddies/mamas, a lot of hangovers, and a few court dates. These people are always in love — for real this time.

“ After years of procreating with psychos, I have finally found the one. He has 13 kids with 19 women, no teeth, and he’s unemployed. Cupid has hit me hard with this magical arrow.”

Because Jesus – We all have that religious friend who is always asking for “prayer warriors,” or posting the “Share if you are not afraid to say you believe in God” memes. I’m not afraid; I just don’t believe. And what the heck do prayer warriors look like anyway? Do they wear suits made out of gold plated Bible pages? Is there glittering war paint involved?

“Praise Jesus for these wonderful tater tots. Truly blessed.”                                                       Yeah, about 40 people are going to unfriend me for that one.

Speak and Spell – This person needs one, and a first grade grammar primer. STAT! For the love of Dick and Jane, have they stopped teaching basic punctuation and spelling here in ‘Murica?

“ru going to county fare if so cn u give rid”   WTF does that even mean?

Crazy Cat Lady—She is just one cat picture short of having whiskers tattooed on her face. You know the woman sits on her couch day and night, stroking cats and talking to herself.

“Andre has a Hitler mustache but he is still mama’s baby.”   [Raises hand and hides face in shame.]

The Baconator – All this person posts about is — wait for it — bacon. That is all. He (it’s always a he) probably eats ice cream out of a bacon bowl, with bacon bits on top.

“Here’s my recipe for salad. Bacon, bacon, and bacon. Lol”

Mr. President – This person blames the President for everything from gas prices to erectile dysfunction. “Mr. President” should just run for president since he has the same know-it-all attitude of your average 16 year-old mall rat.

“I just stubbed my toe and spilled my Mountain Dew on my unemployment check. Thanks, Obama.”

Monsanto Warrior – You swear this person probably never eats because EVERY food is toxic. He or she probably pulls around an IV pole to avoid any GMOs or pesticides, ignoring the possibility of toxins from the plastic IV bag.

“DO NOT eat carrots. Monsanto has created carrots that will make you grow goat ears and squeal like a pig.”

Manic Mom – This mom has her kids in at least 27 STRANGE activities, and that is just on Tuesdays.

“I’m painting my nails and sipping a quad espresso, skinny, vanilla latte while the kids are at their trapeze artistry with watercolors lesson. Today, they’re hanging upside down and re-creating a Monet.”

Well, I’m off to check my friends list. I’m sure at least 9 people have defriended me already. The others haven’t figured out how to defriend on the Facebook phone app. What other types of Facebook friends do you have? I know I missed some. Let me hear from you in the comments section.

Yes, bacon bowls are real.

I’m a Wannabe Blunt Mom!

Hey guys, if you are looking for a new blog entry, you need to head over to Blunt Moms and read why I would rather birth a litter of kittens than have another baby.

I wish I could give birth to these cute guys.
http://www.bluntmoms.com/birth-a-litt...

I know my mama loves me. By Sophie the dog

My mama wrote this letter to me and said I wasn’t her dog, but that’s a lie. I know I’m her dog because she feeds me. You wouldn’t feed someone that you didn’t love because why would you share food with an enemy. Food is very important and it makes your belly feel nice and full. You wouldn’t just give it away. That makes no sense.

Also, when no one is here, mama says nice things to me. I don’t speak people, so I don’t know really what she is saying, but she says it in her mama love voice. You know, the soft one she uses when one of us, even the boy, is sick or scared of thunder. You don’t speak love to someone you hate.

Mama bought me this for Christmas. She loves me.

She also hugs me when she wipes off my feet and whole body after I’ve been outside in the rain. You wouldn’t hug someone you don’t even like unless they were giving you food or something. I never give mama food. She eats stinkier stuff and drinks harsh water. I don’t know why the woman just can’t eat Blue Buffalo like the rest of us.

This is the main reason I know mama loves me. When I got attacked at the really crappy day care I used to go to, mama made sure that my ouchy was taken care of by a good doctor. She even comforted me when I was kind of scared at the doctor’s office. She took really good care of me when we got home, too.

Mama put a shirt over my ouchy and gave me a hug.

Mama is just one of those people who tries to be all tough, kind of like a Doberman, and she thinks being mean is funny. Mean is not funny; it’s just mean. Mama hasn’t learned that yet. I will be patient with her and keep going in my crate when she makes her growly noises and her mean face. The woman will grow out of it at some point. Until then, as long as she keeps giving me Kongs, and food, and cookies, and toys, I’m good. The hugs are OK, too. She won’t let me kiss her, though.

Mom won’t let me kiss her, but I know she loves me.

Get IN the Plane!

My fellow blogger, friend, and snazzy Nick Mom Prom dresser Kathleen Gordon from Middletini invited me to go on a trip with her. This trip does not involve real airplanes, boats, or drugs. Travel without leaving my hermit home? Naturally I said YES to going on a blog tour with this glittery disco chick. So, last week, I climbed aboard her virtual tour bus. Now, it’s my turn to lead the tour. So, let’s board our plane and prepare for takeoff.  I will start the field trip with my answers to a few questions. I know I don’t give you quite enough TMI on my blog, so you need more, right?

Come on, people! We’re running late! Get IN here!

What Am I Working On?   What aren’t I working on? The laundry, my day job, keeping this fur-filled house clean, maybe cooking dinner, volunteering at the zoo. Oh, you mean writing? Well, I’m working on a YA novel about the reincarnation of some of the members of the Twenty-Seven Club. It’s called The Lizard King Club. Here is a draft of the first chapter, Janis. I need to run away from home so I have time to finish it.

How Does My Work Differ From Others Of Its Genre?  I give more TMI before 8:00 am than most people give all day. Seriously, I really lack a filter. I will talk about poop, periods, religion, politics, and anything else your mom told you not to talk about. Except kidneys. I can’t stand to talk about kidneys. One time, a man sat next to me on a flight to Chicago and talked about his kidney surgery the whole time. I thought I would need the barf bag.

Why Do I Write/Create What I Do?   I hear voices in my head. They have to come out somehow. Writing seems to be a socially acceptable way of letting the voices out of your head. Mother says I shouldn’t talk to myself in public.

How Does Your Writing/Creating Process Work?   HMMMM. Process? Oh, yeah, here it is. Basically, I get fantastic ideas when I’m either in the shower or driving. So, if I’m in the shower, I rinse quickly and stick my arm and one leg out to grab my iPhone. I quickly dictate something in Notes via Siri while dripping all over the floor. The process is similar when I’m driving only I dictate at red lights and I’m usually not dripping. Then, when I’m out of the shower and or not driving, I look at my notes and say things to myself like, “Who the fuck is Malcolm?” because Siri thinks I have a speech impediment.

Well, our short connecting flight has come to an end. Put up your tray tables, fasten your seatbelts and hold on for dear life while I attempt to land this bird. Someone hand me a drink.

Whew! We made it. Now, on to your next flight. Run to your gate as we are now boarding all first class passengers. You, my dear reader, are first class today. As George Carlin used to say, get IN the plane not ON it. It’s a lot less windy!

Gate A1: MEAGAN BROCKWAY lives on her small Pennsylvania farm with an assortment of animals that include a herd of horses, a flock of chickens, too many damn dogs and cats, and her husband and parents. She is currently working on some DIY project that involves cursing and beer drinking. Her blog, The Charming Farmer, is a tongue in cheek view on living the farm life while trying to maintain her sanity. A book may be in the future if she finds the time between feeding animals, cleaning up a variety pack of poop, or creating some new tutorial on how NOT to do it yourself. Now fly on over to Meagan’s blog and check out my two favorite entries: An Open Letter to the Chickens and Graves and Groundhogs.

Gate A2: LEA GROVER is a writer and toddler-wrangler living on Chicago’s South Side. When she isn’t cultivating an impressive dust bunny collection she waxes philosophic about raising interfaith children, marriage after a terminal cancer diagnosis, and vegetarian cooking. Her blog, Becoming SuperMommy, won second runner up during in Blogger Idol, and her work has been featured on the Huffington Post, Scary Mommy, The Daily Mail Online, The Chicago Tribune, iVillage Australia, Red Shoes Review, The Dusty Owl Quarterly, and her daughters’ toy refrigerator door. When she isn’t revising her upcoming memoir, she can be found singing opera to her children or smeared to the elbow in Townsend pastels. You can follow her work as Becoming SuperMommy on Facebook, Pinterest, Google+, and @bcmgsupermommy on Twitter. Two of her most popular blogs are Dear Less Than Perfect Mom and Remember, Remember Fifth of July .

Gate A3: TRACI is the momma behind all the drama over at A Day in the Life of a Drama Queen’s Momma. As a mother of 4, 3 of which are “slightly” dramatic girls, Traci spends her days breaking up fights, smoothing ruffled feathers (mostly in her daughter’s boas), and trying to keep her sanity by Facebooking the funny conversations she has with her youngest daughter, Brennan. She blogs about whatever tickles her fancy, but tries to season it all with a dash of her sarcastic wit. So, take off and check out Traci’s blogs with the most drama: A Brennan Bedtime Tale and All Aboard the Hoo Hoo Express .

Living Like Stephen King and Petting Tigers

Since I will be turning 29 in September (That’s 43 in real world time), I’ve started to think about how quickly life is passing by. It really does go by so fast after high school, doesn’t it? So, I’ve started listing the things I still want to accomplish before I (hopefully) drop dead suddenly and without pain at the age of 99. Because I like to over share, and because there is nothing good on TV in the summer, here is my bucket list for your reading enjoyment.

I want to learn to dance and sing Gangnam Style – wait for it – in KOREAN. YES! This has to be one of the most physically and mentally challenging things I could do. Just in case you live on another planet, and have not seen and heard this, take a minute or four to watch it.

I want, no I NEED, to hold a baby tiger. I’m not dumb enough to want to get in a cage with a full-grown tiger, but I could handle a kitten. Jack Hanna, are you reading this? Let me hold a tiger kitten, damn it!

I will be in a flash mob. I have to. Ever since I was in Miss Raines’ dance class at South Broward High School, I have enjoyed shaking my backside around to anything from Rhythm Nation to Black Hole Sun, which lends itself nicely to adolescent ballet moves.

I’ve gotta get around to finishing the two novels I’m writing. In my line of work, I spend WAY TOO MUCH time correcting other people’s writing. It dulls my creativity and makes it hard for me to write. I have to make time to finish my novel on the reincarnation of the 27 Club and the other about time travel.

I want to help animals more. Recently, I wrote a blog about how I have an only child and I’m fine with that. An old friend sent me a heartfelt letter telling me that I should adopt a child. She has adopted two children, and she is adopted. While I would love for every child to have a home, I simply don’t want more children. The good part about my friend’s message is that it made me realize that animals are my passion, not kids, and I need to do more to help furry beings.

I need to make enough money to piss off my extended family when I leave it to cats. If my husband leaves this earth before me, 80% of whatever I have will go to my son, and 20% will go to a cat shelter.

I really want to live to see religion truly separate from government. Things have gotten Handmaid’s Tale scary lately. Believe in Jesus all you want, but if he did exist, I’m pretty sure he was not a gun-toting Republican; he was more of a hippie. I’m no biblical scholar, but it seemed like he liked to help people, not make cuts to the food stamp program.

After reading Stephen King’s memoir, On Writing, I have decided that true success as a writer means living like Stephen King. I’m not talking about the cocaine years; I’m talking about now. The man has time to nap EVERY day, and he makes a living doing what he loves.

Even though I am a total hermit and I need Ativan to travel, I want to tour Europe. I want to see the castles and other historical buildings this world has to offer. I want to know where my pasty-skinned whiskey drinking ancestors come from.

That’s all I got for now. I’m sure as I enter my 30’s (AKA mid-40’s) I will think of more things. For now, I’m focusing on this list. So, what about you? What do you want to do before you croak?

 

I’m on Tour, you guys!

No, I’m not touring Florida.  Darn!

Dania Pier
©2014 Tobie Ackerman

 

I’m not riding inside this thing.

I’m not a big fan of heights.

 

And I don’t have to ride this.

Uh oh! I hate planes.

 

I’m on a BLOG TOUR. So, I can just stay home and hold my cats, like a good hermit should.  Check out my tour guide over at Middletini: http://middletini.com/

Keeping Flight Attendants from Spitting in your Drink

Yeah! Another delay!

I just went to the fabulous Blog U conference last week, even though, like most hermits, I hate to travel. HATE. IT. I especially despise air travel because it includes other people in my personal space, breathing my air, giving me germs. Hey, airline bigwigs, could we put the seats just a little closer, and maybe make them smaller? In fact, why don’t we just offer a cheaper ticket if you sit on someone’s lap the whole way? The person holding you gets an even lower price.   Yes, I’m being sarcastic. We really do need a sarcasm font.

As I was trying to ball myself into half my size in my aisle seat on Southwest last week, I had a lovely chat with one of the flight attendants while she helped people cram their roller bags into the overhead compartments. While she said nothing about spitting in drinks, she did agree that people are carrying on TOO MUCH. In fact, she told me that when she began her job, she trained her parents on how to be better flyers. Now, I want to do the same for you. Here are some helpful travel tips from your friendly neighborhood hermit.

For the love of all that is sane, just check your bags.

On Southwest and Jet Blue, your first checked bag is FREE. On most other airlines, it’s $25. I’m not a frugal person, but even if you are, do you REALLY want to tote your bag everywhere? I mean, it’s likely that you have to connect in a huge airport like, gulp, Atlanta. Also, what about those gels? Do you really need to squeeze all of your health and beauty products into a quart sized bag?

If you are one of those people who insist on carrying on, for whatever reason, you are annoying. On my recent trip, I checked my bag so I could take my seat quickly and shove my purse under the seat in front of me. It took other people FOREVER to cram their bags in the overhead compartment. A couple of them almost dropped their bags on my head. What could be in there that must be protected and kept with you at all times? Nuclear secrets? Don’t be cheap! Just check the damn bag.

Don’t order a drink on short flights. 

Both of my flights last weekend were only an hour. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting them to do drink service, but they did. And most people actually ordered one! I know soda is free, but really? Do you need that Coke just because it’s free? Are you going to dehydrate on your 52-minute flight from Cleveland to Louisville? By the time the flight attendants take orders and deliver the drinks, you have about ten minutes to drink. Plus, if you carried on your huge roller bag and ordered a drink on a short flight, it probably has spit in it. I kid. I kid.

And then there are the liquor people. Now, I like a good martini or glass of wine every now and then, but even I, a NERVOUS flyer, will not order a drink on a short flight. Seriously, if you can’t get through 45 minutes in a plane without a scotch on the rocks, you need a meeting, not a drink.

Don’t bitch at the gate agents.

My first flight was delayed by about three hours. Believe me, I didn’t enjoy that as it gave me more time to sit and worry about dying in a fiery crash, but I didn’t complain to the gate agents. It would be pointless, as they do not control weather, mechanical issues, flight crew schedules, or anything else that causes delays.  They simply work as GATE agents. Their fathers do not own the airline. Cut them some slack and complain to the customer service department, if you must.

Do not let your little $^%&ers kick the backs of seats.

I know you love your little kids. I love my kid, too. I also taught my kid that while his mommy, daddy, and grandparents love him very much, the rest of the world merely tolerates him. The other passengers on the plane are tolerating your kid. Do not let him kick the backs of their seats. There may be someone like me with the it takes a village mentality who will correct your little snookums. While we are at it, just don’t bring your 2 year-old on the red eye from Hawaii. Ever.

That’s all I got. I would love to hear from you. Do you have any more anti-douchnozzle travel tips? I don’t travel often, so I know I’m missing some things. Any flight attendants out there? I would LOVE to hear from you. Leave me a comment and let’s talk about travel.

 Disclaimer: I have never had a flight attendant tell me that spitting in drinks actually happens on commercial flights in this or any other country. However, I did know a comedy club waitress who wiped her butt with a piece of cheese before putting it on a crabby customer’s burger. Be careful out there, people.

Getting Schooled at Blog U

Wait. This isn’t a Marriott!

I have a reoccurring nightmare where I’m forced to go back to Florida State University and experience dorm life again. If you’ve read this blog, you know that going away to college is any hermit’s worst nightmare. So, when I first saw Anna’s post about this blog conference where we, gulp, stay in the introvert hell that is a dorm, I was scared, but I signed up anyway.

My skin was hot and my stomach was cramped when it came time to actually travel to Blog U. Planes give me the poops, and Southwest delayed my plane three times, which gave me time to wonder if there were mechanical issues that would eventually lead to my agonizing, fire-filled death. A logical assumption, I know. Needless to say, I was running to the bathroom with the trots.

Weirdo on a plane!

By the time I boarded the plane, I had gotten all of the anxiety out of my system, and I was nothing short of slaphappy. When I noticed that the flight attendants were wearing rubber gloves while stowing luggage, I made jokes with my seatmates that everyone was going to receive a body cavity search to make sure we weren’t stealing all of the plane booze. The couple sitting next to me looked like they were imagining just where those little bottles of vodka would fit. Since they could see my crazy glowing, they avoided eye contact with me. The awkward fairy blessed me long ago; it’s a gift.

Once I finally got to the beautiful Notre Dame of Maryland campus and started to meet the real people who lived in my MacBook, I was so glad I traveled in the metal tube of death and social anxiety to get some not fancy, non-book learning. During all of the sessions and chats, I learned so much about blogging that I could write a plagiarized Dummies Guide, but in the interest of avoiding a lawsuit, I will just share four fabulous things I learned:

My favorite bloggers are human and super nice.  Fellow Blog U student, Pattie offered to pick me up from the airport, and even sent her husband to get me when my flight was delayed. She had never met me in person but still wanted to help.

I talked to Meredith, one of the faculty members, about my IBS, and she made sure that I got a single room with my own bathroom. I’m sorry about the TMI, Meredith! These are just two examples. If I wrote about all of the wonderful writers I met, this would be a book for sure.

I WOULD blog about this cat Swatch.

I’m not a sponsored post kind of girl, for the most part. I arrived at Blog U focused on how to make money with my blog, but I soon realized that I really am more of a blog to book writer. I will continue to write about products I really use and love like Posh and Smart Flour, but I could never write a blog, even for oodles of cash, about how I love Pepsi because I don’t. Team Diet Coke!

Facebook will not die if I take a break. Super talented Kim Bongiorno enlightened me, and everyone in the Blog to Book session, that I don’t have to pop on to my social media sites 57,482 times a day. Instead, I should SCHEDULE social media time, and then actually go write. This will increase my productivity and decrease my eye rolling at political and religious posts. Neat fact: Kim Bongiorno is my husband’s SECOND favorite blogger, right after me. Isn’t that right, dear?

Real cupcakes without gluten!

Great things happen when I step out of my comfort zone. After a full day of conference sessions and gluten free cupcakes (Yes! Yummy gluten free food was available) I went up to my room to decompress for a bit. Well, that all changed when I noticed that Anna from My Life and Kids tagged me in a post on the Blog U Facebook group. She wanted to meet me. Really? I practically skipped out of my room to go find her at dinner.

After dinner, I went back to my room to don my yellow rubber bracelets, cat Swatch, silver dress, and turquoise tights for the Nick Mom Retro Prom. When I was done getting dressed, I decided to just chill for a bit and check Facebook. I saw a note from Lynn at Blunt Moms asking me if I wanted to stop by her room and chat about my recent submission to her awesome site. Um, yes. I want to be on Blunt Moms more than I want to eat Reese’s cups while petting kittens. It turns out that Lynn likes cats, too, so she probably understands my enthusiasm.

I was going to skip breakfast on the last morning and sleep in a bit, but the lovely and PAINFUL 6 AM church bells had different plans for me. SIX A FRICKIN M! So, I got ready and walked down to breakfast. I got the privilege of walking to the cafeteria with Anna. I jibber jabbered away with Anna during our walk, but I sat with other bloggers when we arrived at Doyle. I wanted to sit with Anna, but I didn’t want to be a stalker. I’m glad I sat at a different table because I was introduced to Melissa, an aspiring writer who happens to live right down the street from me. Really, right down the street! She is totally someone I could be friends with and I only have to drive three minutes down the road to see her. I could walk there. Can you believe that shit?

So, while travel is really stressful to me, and I did come home with an annoying cold, I am super glad that I attended Blog U. I can’t wait until next year for Blog U 2015. And I’m not just saying that because I’m hopped up on Sudafed and Allegra. Is that considered to be a product endorsement?

Here I am endorsing Nick Mom.

 

Well, you non-morning people irritate the $&@% out of me!

©Disney

I always hear about how annoying morning people are.  People talk about how they’re not really awake until noon.  They complain about overly energetic or talkative people in the morning.  Well, guess what?  You AM Eeyores irritate the chirpiness right out if me.  Here’s why.

You act like the sun is your enemy.  You squint at it when a sensible morning person opens the blinds to get rid of the dungeon atmosphere that is a house with all blinds closed. The sun is what allows you and everyone else to live on this planet.  Put on some shades and stop being a wimp.

You mope around after getting up like someone died. Be glad you even woke up. Be glad you can walk. Be glad you don’t live in Iraq. Wimp!

You’re so unproductive in the morning.  I get the bulk of my work done before noon.  That’s because I actually do stuff instead of sit around and bitch about the fact that “It’s toooooo EARRRRLY!”

You make stupidass Facebook memes like this:

©Claymoar

So, thank you for reading this coffee-induced rant, originally drafted at 8:00AM on a Saturday morning after cleaning the house. Are you a morning person, or a non-morning person? Let me hear from you in the comment section.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Eeyore, Morning People