things that must go

I will freely admit that for reasons unknown to me I was a complete and utter Grinch this Christmas. You would think I would have been ecstatic because it was the first Christmas I spent up here with Mr. Wonderful and his family. I was-at first, but as the day got closer I just became sadder which I then allowed to turn into anger over what I was missing down south.  Allow me to clarify and say this was not the first Christmas I had ever spent away from my own family, so I still don’t understand what my deal was. Although this was not foreign territory to me all I could focus on was the fact I was missing them something fierce.

I feel  bad for Mr. Wonderful and his family-they have convinced themselves that I didn’t have a good time and I don’t like their traditions-I did, and I do-and I am so thankful that they welcomed me with loving and open arms. I just missed my family and our traditions.

In an effort to get rid of my Grinchiness and have a better outlook for the impending New Year I feel it’s necessary to perform an exorcism of sorts. I present here for your reading enjoyment my  most recent list of things that must go-if you want butterflies and rainbows you need to stop reading now because this ain’t gonna be pretty:

Announcing huge life events via updating your status. I get that you’re happy. I get that you want to share your good news with everyone in the quickest way possible. What I don’t get is how the second you get the ring on your finger or the baby in your belly you are too quick to forget the people in your life who want that very thing but keep falling short. You may not think it’s a big deal, but it stings. A LOT. Maybe you should check your empathy button before you go off on how you are so happy and how you can’t believe your wait is finally over, and how it’s everything you want it to be and MORE, and how lucky in love you are—ESPECIALLY when the platform you are proclaiming this from gives the recipient no warning, and no ability to filter it until AFTER it’s been read. I get you’re happy, but your insensitivity is breaking a lot of hearts.

Sending mass texts about said life event AFTER you’ve posted on Facebook. I already was blindsided on facebook. I don’t need you to add insult to injury via text. If I can muster my fake mommy smile long enough to be polite I’ll pass along congratulations. If you go fishin for congratulations before I’m ready to play nice you won’t like the results.  

Face-boxing. If I want a steady stream of political bashing I will join a political site. If I want to read your latest dramatic diatribe I’ll subscribe to your blog. I’m on Facebook to keep in touch and because it’s mindless fun. Facebook is not your personal soap box. Let’s keep it light and fun, people!

Facebook over-shares. On that same note Facebook is not a place to over share. I don’t need to know about your cramps, or how you’ve been puking your guts out the last three days, or how your sister’s labor is progressing (*guilty* and lesson learned within 30 seconds of hitting ‘send’).  I don’t log in to be made uncomfortable or grossed out. Save the gross stuff for your doctor and give me the funny you tube videos and picture parodies.

Repeats on FoodNetwork. It’s bad enough that I have to have you on and be tormented by your deliciousness all day, but come on. You are an older station with quite the archive of shows. I shouldn’t be seeing the same episodes of Paula Deen, Gi-a-DUH, and Rachel Ray all week. It’s ok to mix it up peeps.

Giada. If her necklines get any lower or her hairstyles any higher she’s a gold chain away from being a bad Italian stereotype. It’s bad enough you named your kid the English translation of your OWN name, but if  I have to hear you over pronounce ‘Riz-oh-TOE’, ‘pah-st-AH’, ‘mas-ca-PONY cheese’, ‘pan-chain-TAH’, ‘CRRReamy’, ‘CRRRunchy’, or ‘CRRRust’ again I might just need to put my head through a wall.

People who should be riding on the short bus rather than driving it. Driving is a privilege, not a right. Do us all a favor, pull your head out of your ass, and quit driving like you own the road. You don’t, and I’m tired of having to up my defensive driving game because you don’t understand how a merge works.

Doing all the work so someone else gets all the credit. You didn’t do it all on your own. Recognize that. Makes it easier for me to WANT to help you next time.

People shortening my name. It still isn’t cute, and it still bugs the hell out of me. STOP.

Forcing me to repeat myself.  Making me say the same thing over and over again only confirms your stupidity and irritates the hell out of me. You won’t get a different answer no matter how many times you re-word your question. Shut you mouth, open your ears, and we’ll all get along great.

Drama Queens. I have enough drama in my own life. I don’t need you trying to suck me into yours.

The Inversion. I miss sounding like a girl, not an 80-year old chain smoker. And breathing. The non-smoker smoker’s hack has got to go too.

Finding a place to move/moving. I hate where I live. I think I hate trying to find a place to live more. Although I have a few options available to me I don’t want to make the same mistake I made two years ago by not looking and blindly jumping into the first option presented to me. I’m down to three weeks, no time to look, and stress levels rising. Not to mention finding time to actually pack and GET moved once I figure out where.

And that is my list of things that must go, and I am already feeling better. Whoda thunk it?