|DIARY OF AN URBAN MILKMAID|
|I was cross with my mother today. I was in the middle of planning my relaxing day off from work when the phone rang. She needed powder. For her crotch-rash... Fuck me! She's got a crotch-rash because she doesn't take showers on a regular basis any more. I don't want to know about my mother's crotch rash. I had to bring her some powder so her crotch rash wouldn't itch...
So, I got dressed and went out in the weather to the drug store, to get crotch-rash powder and/or cream. I had to get a bunch of things, because believe me - I don't want any specifics on the rash. Not at all...
When I walked into my mother's apartment, I got even crankier. Her kitchen counter was littered with dead ants. And spilled soup - from YESTERDAY. I'm not fucking cleaning up her kitchen counter. She can live with those dead ants and that spilled soup for all I care! She has a lady who cleans her house on a semi-regular basis. If she can't wipe a counter (on her way to pouring a fresh glass of Chardonnay), she can certainly give Marguerita a call to do it for her.
I needed her to sign some checks so I could pay her bills. I thought I had all of her bills in my purse (along with a whole lot of her other stuff), but I was wrong. She had squired away her electric bill in the bowels of her desk. Thank goddess I found that, or she'd be sitting in the dark with a legion of dead ants to keep her company.
Yeah. So I was cranky.
|Buh Bye! |
October 05, 2008
Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
One Last Bitchfest for the Road
Get the Popcorn Ready
I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
|Marriage is love.|