It's too f*ing humid when your wine glass sweats.

In which I bitch about things that are currently irritating me; rant on about them until I've lost my wind on that subject and then move on down the list to the next vexatious annoyance that's pissing me off.

(that's right.  Really get a nerd fired up, get her a glass of wine, and she'll thesaurus.com her ass all the way to words like vexatious.  stay outta my way. I mean it.)


Foremost, but most mildly, the weather.  Hot.  The worst part about it is that I know it has the potential to get either better or worse - last week it cooled down to 75! OMG AMAZING.  But I also know that by the end of the summer, it could very well be 90/90: 90 degrees and close to 90% humidity.  Still, when it's 99 degrees and 50%+ humidity, it's nasty.  Yuck.

Currently at 65% humidity (says the girl from the place where people went crazy once it got about single digits).  So my wine glass sweats.  And then I freak the f* out because I think my wine is dripping onto my off-white carpet as I raise the glass to my lips.
A)Who decides it's a good idea to put in off white carpet right before you sell a house?  The previous owners of my abode, apparently.
B)I'm really in a fucking mood right now.  Normally I don't drop the F bomb - my signature curse word is shit - but f*** has made it into this post twice, and I've edited it out at least 5 times thus far, and we're not even into the serious rant yet.  Brian's hearing a mouthful, lemme tell you.  He hardly ever swears, so I get a little freaked out when he drops the F.  I swear like a sailor when I'm agitated, and he's a saint for putting up with that.

My upstairs neighbor stomps like a rhino.  I may not be a lady, but I can at least walk across a room without bringing on the apocalypse.  She smokes. I realize this is her right.  While I find it mildly irritating that I can't keep my back door open without smelling cigarette a dozen times a day, I get over it - she goes on her patio to smoke.
butshe's19andhasamotherf*ingsmoker'scough.
She hacks.  All. the. time.  Literally, every few minutes.  It's really getting old.
She brings home boyfriends at 8:27 am.  No prob; we've all been there.  Except she and boyfriend (or fwb or gentleman caller or whatever we want to call him) begin a screaming (and stomping) match at 8:28.  I've used words for this gal that I usually don't call people at all, let alone someone I've never met.

I'm the darling child and supposed to fix everything. That's the real irritation. Apparently when anyone in my family fucks up, I'm supposed to "reach out to them" (regardless of how long it's been since we've actually spoken), hopefully brushing off some of my fine upstandingness and inspiring them, or some bull like that.  Even more irritating - I'll probably do it. Fucking people pleaser.

Good news? I made spectacular pasta salad today and now I'm about to go eat some of that.
(But I'm in a nasty, piss-all-over-everything kinda mood, so let's just focus on the fact that I'm getting fat. k?)