Mustard.

well, tonight i'd like to discuss the various types of mustard that i have tasted in my 300 years as an alcoholic. First there was French's yellow mustard. GREAT on hotdogs (i like to blend a little relish in there, for that baseball stadium feel), also good with french fries when mixed with a little ketchup. ketchup by itself was ok when i was a kid, then my tastes matured a bit and i started to get into spicier foods. so i added a little mustard to my ketchup to offset the sweetness of the sugary tomato concoction. Second, came honey mustard. now honey mustard is one of those condiments that would make dogshit taste good. you could put honey mustard on just about anything, and people would eat it. fries, salad, chicken, dogshit... whoever thought honey and mustard would blend so perfectly together must have invented the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. third, i'd like to introduce grey poupon. what can i say. that is the best fucking mustard on this great, green earth and what IS REALLY in grey poupon?? i don't think they even list the ingredients. all they say is "made with white wine". i think they left out one of the major ingredients, like crack. i won't even touch a fry anymore without my grey poupon. i don't blame the guy in the limousine. he knew his shit. especially when it came to mustard. man, i love that stuff. but i don't buy it in the new squeeze bottle. nope. that's like drinking tott's champagne out of a plastic cup. only glass jars for me, baby. so children- what have we learned tonight about these three different types of mustard? very good! eating dogshit is ok as long as it's covered in honey mustard.

I JUST DON'T KNOW.

well, my faithful blogsters. what can i say. i just haven't been able to bring myself to post anything in the last few weeks. my job is just too stressful, demands too much of my time, as well as the dog and child. you've heard it all before. and i'm just tired. i look at my computer and look at my bed, and well, my bed is just a little more inviting. i can't resist it's lure and warmth. i fall asleep feeling guilty- i'm to blame for your lack of late night entertainment, and for the real go-getters, your midday read. my work is never done, as i just finished rinsing the excess die out of the t-shirts my old people made this afternoon in a tie-dye class. they have no idea how much i slave away just to keep them happy. and they're seldom happy.

on a lighter note, i have some good news. i got my 90 day review today from my miserable boss and in all areas, i exceeded expectations. except one- which was my interaction with the rest of the staff. in that area, i got "met" expectations. why do i have to get along with all of my co-workers? so what if i am a little abrupt?? quit acting like a dumb-ass-lazy-fuck and do your job. maybe i'm a little bitter because i don't have the power to fire anyone. the people that suck just stay and suck. and it makes my life more difficult. hence the frustration. where's my damn raise.

as for my personal life, well, i don't have time for one. no- i just exist. and do arts and crafts with old people. and shop at walgreens. i'm still on the sober wagon, and it's interesting what it's done to my attitude. i have LESS patience, i'm MORE irritable, and my tolerance for bullshit has plummeted to about zero. after a few grievances with my daughter's first grade teacher, i was sitting at the kitchen table and thought to myself that she was rude and i didn't agree with her teaching methods. so i wrote her a note that said "i think you're rude and i don't agree with your teaching methods." at the end of the week i had a meeting with the principal and told her i should have held onto private school, but i couldn't afford it. i thought there may be some light at the end of the public school tunnel, until the principal herself used the term "warm and fuzzies", in reference to the teacher's lack of "warm and fuzzies" resulting in my hatred for the hag. it has nothing to do with warm and fuzzies. she's just a bitch. jesus. for just nine thousand dollars a year, i could drop off my daughter in the morning and have peace of mind.

i gotta go to bed. i'm starting to look like a hunched-back homeless person.

and there's a lady out there named brigette who needs to call a sista.

love to you all,