Thursday, September 21, 2006

Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart

Tuesday fucking well sucked, and if there was any justice in the universe, I would be able to call a do-over.

The weed whacker ("strimmer," to you Brit-type people), which the Spouse Sparrow needs for the landscaping business, decided to quit running, the fucking Craftsman piece of shit. Oh, I remember back in the day, when Sears used to make a good tool. Fucking cunts, fucking Craftsman, and I do not say that lightly. We will have to buy a new one, for $250+, and there goes all the money I had managed to save up to hold us over through the winter when no one wants their lawn done.

Then, the Fledgling Sparrow comes home from school and informs me that she needs $30, on top of the $60 we've already spent, to complete her dance uniform for her dance class at school. What the fuck is the school thinking? 70% of the kids at her high school qualify for free lunch, my kid included. Her school, and this whole neighborhood, is fucking well poor, dirt poor. How on earth do they expect parents to come up with this kind of money? I mean, this is for a PE class. It's not even for dance competition, it's just for twirling around in the gym, for Christ's sake! Why can they not just wear their PE uniform from last year? What is wrong with sweats and shorts? $90 is three months worth of bus passes for her! Jesus fuck, school districts annoy me.

The only bright spot was that "House" was on. But then, then they had to go and play Mazzy Star (who I love), which, in my already depressed state, made me think about my totally lost, wasted youth, and I so next thing you know, I was blubbering all over the sink and dripping snot while I was washing the dishes. Yes, thank God I have a dishwasher to sterilize them, and quit getting grossed out; it's not like any of you lot are coming over to eat.

And tonight, when I would like to listen to Mazzy Star, everyone is in bed in our extremely small house, so I have to be quiet. So I am sitting here drinking, in silence.

Now, if that story didn't cheer you up, I don't know what will.

Fat Sparrow

7 comments:

Kieran said...

I was under the impression that girls didn't do PE in America. I thought that they just did Cheerleading, standing around the sides of atheltic tracks watching 'Jocks' run around in padding. Please don't tell me the cinema has misinformed me. My whole life will fall apart. And poverty, in the New World? Surely not, I though the streets were lined with gold and everyone was married to Nicole Kidman.

Foot Eater said...

A 'wasted' youth sounds terrific. I spent mine sober as a judge.

Old Knudsen said...

Nothing like the suffering of others to put me in a good mood, that will teach ya for 1940.

Fat Sparrow said...

Kieran -- "Cinema"? Is that what you call your porn collection?


Footie -- "Sober as a judge"? You're right, your youth was totally wasted. I was burned out before I was officially old enough to do anything legally. Damn, that was fun.


Old Knudsen -- Where's my tea and sympathy, you fucker? And what do you mean, "1940"? Every American knows that WWII didn't start until Dec. 7, 1941.

Fat Sparrow said...

Kieran -- Ooops, I forgot... "everyone was married to Nicole Kidman." Fuck me, how did I miss out on that orgy, or, where do I sign up?

Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

Nicole Kidman, very beautiful but I wouldn't. Angelina Jolie? Maybe for shits and giggles if the time was right, the champagne was chilled and Alan Rickman was joining in.

It's 5.38 and I'm feeling kind of goofy too. I had babysitting this afternoon, went out to lunch wth himself, and happy hour was on Margritas from 3 o'clock, and I'm a complete lightweight and now I either want coffee or another drink. Maybe both?

Sparra' m'darling you need some jolly music piped through earbuds into your brain. So much better than alcohol alone. Have you got any Blondie? Good anger music too, Blondie, if that's what you need tonight.

Bad luck about the strimmer. I'm sorry you're having a crappy night. If it's a Craftsman might it still be under some sort of a warranty?

Fat Sparrow said...

Hey, Sam! I'm happier tonight, and, as the Spouse Sparrow has reminded me, I don't need an excuse to drink, and I can stop sometime before I use up all the Bloody Mary mix and vodka. I'll take it under advisory, ha.

Yay, happy hour! Happy hour is wonderful, especially when it comes with free eats.

I don't think I'd go with Angelina Jolie, myself. I'm fairly sure that her own brother has tapped that ass, and (shudders) I know Billy Bob has, so I won't be touching her with Bea Arthur's dick, even. Alan Rickman? Not my type. I put up a list of my "honeys" in my sidebar, any of them can feel free to drop by.

You know, I don't really like happy music; it makes me depressed. Your standard issue pop music, country, or rap drives me into a homicidal rage. Strange, no? For anger music, I'd pick Concrete Blonde or Hole. Both are great to strip off your bra, sing out of tune to, and generally be an angry female. Alanis Morrissette, take note, and piss off, besides.

I would be listening to music (especially tonight, when the 2-year-old is plugged in to 220, and bouncing off the walls), but I have no headphones. I miss my record player that carked it, too, as most of my stuff is on vinyl.

The stupid Craftsman thing is just out of warranty, and I will not pay to have it fixed, as that would be throwing good money after bad. We got the weed whacker as a gift from my parents, and this is our third one, as we had to exchange the first two due to them not working. They both died under warranty, in under 1 month. The people at Sears do not look at all surprised when you come in holding dead lawn equipment. They just hand you a new one, stick a "Clearance" sticker on the old one, and you're on your way. Way to inspire confidence in your customer base, huh? Do not buy Craftsman, they are not what they used to be.

This time, since I'm the one paying for it, I'm getting something decent, like an Echo.