Posted by: anniewilson | June 29, 2009

I hate people

It’s my birthday and I’ll bitch if I want to. It just turned 10 AM and already I’ve been annoyed mightily. The most recent annoyance came when I was putting gas in my car. How come you can put 50 bucks in a tank in 38 seconds but the last 20 cents takes 2 minutes? I hate standing at a gas pump squeezing that last few drops out of the nozzle but I’m always afraid that if I don’t get every last bit of it, I’ll run out of gas a block before I get to the gas station.

So that left me peeved and perplexed.

Then I got into a minor argument with a 19 year old. At my age that can be rather vexing because 19 year-olds don’t make any sense. You never know what will come out of their mouths next so it’s best to avoid all contact with one of them whenever possible. I tried, I swear I did. But that little wench didn’t have the maturity to shut up and walk away. I keep worrying that I’ll be the subject of a newspaper headline that reads, “19 Year Old Murders 51 Year Old Woman On Her Birthday”.

More ado and vexation.

Of course here’s the inescapable reminder that, at 51, over half of my life is over an I’m on the down side of life. I’m pretty sure that I’m sliding into the end of my life like Ricky Henderson slides into second base. Whatever.

On the bright side, my ex husband is still madly in love with me and he proves it on a regular basis. My other ex likes to pretend that he’s a single guy who’s still waiting for me to magically reappear in his life and that the crying baby in the background is his latest GRANDchild. I love that, this time, I’m not the woman being betrayed by his dishonesty. I have one other ex who has left me alone since our divorce and he’s the one I would have thought would be nuttier than the rest but he’s the only one of three who knows how to behave like a respectable ex husband…he stays out of my life completely. Whoda thunk it? That’s the one from San Francisco who directed my father to the Mint thusly…”They’re on the counter by the cash register.”

Of course yesterday was a bitch, what with that creepy dude who actually took the time to speak to my even creepier ex. I’m sort of glad that it happened because I was looking for a way to avoid a man with bigger boobs than mine. I sort of freaked when he peeled his shirt off in the Gogia heat and looking back, no matter how rude he was, all is really right with the world. I couldn’t kiss one of those nipples without a loud guffaw. Oh, and I’m a nipple kisser from way back.

By the way…don’t forget, I bought lottery tickets for tomorrow and I’m pretty sure that, if ever I’m going to win ANYTHING…tomorrow’s Mega Millions is gonna be it. If I don’t, I’m never buying lottery tickets again. Hell, if I DO win, I’m never buying them again so I’ve purchased my last lottery tickets.

Yep, no more lottery tickets for me. I’m not THAT stupid. Of course, I am stupid enough to continue dating men although that tact hasn’t been any more successful than the lottery thing. It’s all good though…someone needs to mow the lawn.

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Responses

  1. your life is NOT half over. All the “oldest person in the world” guys are almost always 113 when they die, so you’re not halfway til you hit 55 or 56. (I hit 56 later this year, so I know these things)

  2. LOLOL, only a man older than I am would think that we’re not half dead. It’s all good, who wants to be 113? Not I. Are you coming to take me to Wisconsin? How much longer do I have to wait?

    🙂

  3. Every day is a special day for you Annie.
    I feel you must let a black cat adopt you. I had one adopt me once and he stayed just long enough to love me then disappeared. I swear he took all my “ah shit” happenings with him. Lovely cat.
    Your right about your exs too. If they stay in your life after without a reason, it’s obvious.
    Happy birthday again. It gets better from here.
    (I’m drinking martinis in your honor today 🙂

    P.S. If you win the lotto can I have 1 mill? Cause all I need is 1.

  4. well i hate people too, not all of them 99% that’s life and enjoy it.


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