Love it.
Love it when my paranoid co-worker has decided that my IM conversations with friends about any/every topic except him must have been about him to my boss.
Love it.
Love it when said co-worker goes and gets a meeting for us and boss to discuss our 'issues' and comes out and tells boss I must be IMing with boss about him because he has no idea what else/who else I was talking with.
Love it.
LOVE IT when boss looks at him like he's crazy! Love it!

Love it when my cell phone doesn't alert me to missed calls and voice mails until 2-3 days after the fact. Love it.

And now I have a massive craving for Chicken McNuggets. Love it!

I love waking up to a pile of cat crap on the laundry room floor, which moments before my hubby had to step over in order to get to the garage. No attempt to clean it up- just leave it for me to do.:rolleyes:

Tomorrow, he's going to love it when he doesn't have a lunch prepared or work clothes ironed and ready. :D

I love that my old dentist did a crappy job fitting one of my crowns and now I have to have SURGERY to repair it. I love that because insurance already paid my old dentist to do a crappy job, they won't pay any portion of the repair bill.

I love it!

I really do love that I'm taking torts this summer. I wouldn't normally feel vindictive, but the old dentist literally punched me in the arm and told me my bleeding gums were my fault for not brushing properly, when it turns out the bleeding gums are because the crown wasn't fitted properly and there's decay up under the edge of the crown that I couldn't possibly be expected to brush, it being under the crown and all.

I just love being blamed for a professional's lousy work. I really love it.

I love it when I wake up at 7:15 a.m. and think I have another 15 minutes to nap until I suddenly remember that the latest I'm supposed to wake up is 7:00, and instead of a lingering nap, I need to rush out of bed, rush into clothes, not wash my face, barely brush my teeth, before making it to the bus...barely.

I love the rollercoaster I ride every 28 days. Love. It.

Preaching to the choir, sister.:snap:

I love the rollercoaster she rides every 28 days. Love. It.

:D :rolleyes: :mad: :( :) :confused:

:p

I'm a perfect angel every 28 days.

I love how I cry. I love how I get angry at EVERYTHING. I love how people, who are close to me, consider bringing in an exorcist. I love how full of bloat I get. I love how sore my boobs get. I love how my uterus expands and contracts, as if to say, “You feel this? YOU FEEL THIS? Your vacant womb is contracting. If you were pregnant right now, you wouldn’t have to feel these for another nine months.”

“You know, Uterus, I’m not entirely sure that’s true. And even if it were, I’d rather have slight cramps than go through a 15 hour labor. Plus, all that aside, I hear that pregnant woman get bad gas. And have backaches. And after they give birth, sometimes they lactate through their blouses. Plus, it’s nice to have money with which to clothe and feed your kids, and I’m barely clothing and feeding me.”

“That’s because you buy too many books, books you don’t read before buying more books. You could easily have saved enough money by now to pay off your college loans, be free and clear of all debt, and STILL have money for books AND baby clothes.”

“Well, I don’t have a husband.”

“Girlfriend, please. You don’t need a man. You can do this on your own.”

“I’d rather eat you, Uterus, than be a single mother. Women who are capable, wonderful, loving single mothers have something that I lack: patience, determination, backbones, courage, energy…”

“Sounds to me like they have a lot of things you lack, Haskell.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re wrong, though. You never complain about the long lines at Disneyland, and so you have patience.”

“Hmm.”

“From the moment you wake up, you are resolved to make it back to your bed as quickly as possible, and so you are determined.

“Ah.”

“You are always complaining about a pain up and down your spinal cord, so you have backbone.”

“You’re right!”

“You own up to your lies (even though the only person you own up to is yourself) and that takes courage.”

“I’m a friggin’ lion!”

“When you see something on TV that makes you really happy, you dance in your seat and clap your hands vigorously, and that takes a lot of energy!”

“I could light an entire village, population 11, with the energy of my excited hand claps! What you speak is the truth!”

“See, you are totally ready for single parenthood. And believe me when I tell you that *I* am ready to be fetus filled and satisfied. I’m tired of these fake contractions. I’m ready for the real deal.”

“I’m still not sure how I’d pay for these babies you want me to have so badly.”

“Welfare. Everyone is doing it.”

“I really don’t want to be pregnant. Or raise brats, and we know my kids would be bratty.”

“If you don’t get pregnant soon, I’m going to wither up and die. I will look like a little shriveled crone and I will whisper about dark portents at night while you sleep. You’ll never have a good night’s sleep again. You’re hair will go grey overnight. You’re eyesight will fail completely. Give me a child, Audra. I MUST HAVE A CHILD!”

“Nah, I think I’d rather drink beer, be lonely, read The Goon when Powell finally comes out with Vol. 4, and play Mrs Pacman, even though I’m the WORST Pacman player ever. You can understand that, can’t you, Uterus?”

“Yeah, but in another 28 days, we’re having this conversation again!”

“Okaydoke.”

Yup, every 28 days I’m a perfectly sane, wonderfully happy, content little angel. A fallen angel. A demon spawn of Hell.

And I LOVE it.

California Screamin' ?