What we have here is a failure to communicate.

I love my new hometown. I really really do. This area is quiet, rural, friendly, has amenities such as a Stupor Sprawl Mart, a feed mill, a farm center, and is within easy driving distance of my real hometown, the small city of Columbia, SC - which has everything else I might ever need.

But damned if some of the local business owners don't have a habit that irritates the FUCK out of me.

Many of the businesses are family owned (I'm all for that) by the men (erm, not so much) and often will have the female family members answering the phone or running the register. I have no problem with this whatsoever except for three things:

1) Female (or male for that matter) should know how to answer the fucking telephone in a professional manner, know where records are, know how to, for example, give a refund or schedule an appointment or take a fucking message. Bitch, you are answering the phone for a business! I don't give a ferret's asshole if you are fucking the boss's son, you pick up that phone and the convo should NOT go like this:

Dumb bitch: "hullo?"
Me: "Erm, is this Newberry Farming-Type Place?"
DB: "Yeah."
Me: "I'm calling to see if my farming type equipment is ready"
DB: "Uh ... ho'd on."
*sound of receiver being put down - thunk*
*long silence*
DB: "He ain't here."
Me: "... erm ... who?"
DB: (Sounding irritated and bored) "Joe Blow. He ain't here."
(Joe sold me my farming type equipment)
Me: "Ahh, well ..."
DB: (Clearly irritated now) "He's who you need to talk to!"
Me: "Thank you, I'll call back."
DB: "Uh-huh, bye"
*click*


2) Female (or male for that matter) should know what the fuck she's fucking talking about. You work at a tractor place? You should know about tractors, damnit, at least on a rudimentary level. You should be able to identify one in a line-up (Is that it? Is that one? No, Amber-Dawn, that's a Miata, honey.) You answer the phone at a trailer place? You should at least know what sort of trailers they are (Stock trailers? Horse trailers? Flatbeds? What?) You should grasp the basic concept of the business.

And number 3) Female (or male for that matter) should not be a goddamned fucking bitch.

Again, you slag, I don't fucking care if you are the Queen of the Trailer Park and personally and without assistance squeezed each of the people who own the business in question out of your personal vagina after 2 days of labour, each. This still does NOT give you the right to be a rude, condescending, cunt to a customer (that would be ME, ho).

My money is just as good as anyone else's and I'm there at your place to spend it. Quit acting like a fuckhead and squeeze some Customer Service out of that shiny vagina of yours, why doncha?

Bah!

Well, I'm having a crap-fucking-tastic day. Seriously. My life has sucked llama arsehole for 3 months now.

I have a gorgeous new son, who is doing fab; he's not the problem (or, indeed, A problem). It's me. I suck. I can't seem to organise myself. I don;t seem to have enough hours in my day. I can't seem to lose any fucking weight despite not eating anything. Fuck, if I eat I don't lose, if I *don't* eat I don't lose. Would that make it a lose-lose situation? Obviously fucking NOT.

I need to clean my house (it makes my head hurt to think about it), but I need to work on my shops. I need to work out in the barnyard, but I can't leave the house (wee people running about loose). I want to just get in the car and drive off sometimes. (But then I miss my kids so badly when I do go anywhere which is always the fucking grocery store. That's it. That's the only place I ever go. The grocery store. Where I buy food that I CAN'T FUCKING EAT. How sad is that?)

I wish I could just teleport myself to the beach for about 20 minutes. Just sit on the sand and listen to the ocean. Just be left alone, by myself, for 20 minutes.

Ahhhhhhh.

But, hey, I've been watching a new British telly show that I must recommend (I'm on a recommendation tear). It's called Black Books and is funny, light, and charming. If you like Britcom, you'll appreciate it, I think.

Ohh ... I also found this. I laughed so hard that Bud Light shot out of my nose. And that shite smarts. I am stunned at the overweening stupidity of which some humans are capable.

And to end on a penis note, 'cause I heart me some penis, I have decided that I am against excessive penis piercing. Honestly. I speak from my penis-loving wee heart. I hate to see something as fucking gorgous as a fine johnson disfigured by too many piercings.

(Now before any of you blows a seal, let me remind you that *I* am pierced, so I'm not anti-piercing. Pay attention.)

Check out this (really well done!) FAQ on penile piercings, here.

It's OK. I'll wait.

Hmmm. Hmm. Hmmmmmmmmm.

OK, are you back? You OK? You look a bit green around the gills ...

Shake it off! Did you see that first John Thomas? That was a lovely member! But all that hardware just detracted from the overall look. Maybe a Frenum ring (or barbell, right), or a Pubic barbell or a Scrotal, if you must, but leave that lovely long lad alone after that!

Thoughts?