Things I don't like right now

• Designer toilet paper (we just had some with tiny blue snowflakes and snowmen all over it.) Seriously? We all know what we use toilet paper for, right? Does it really need to be festive? And I keep feeling the need to appologize to the snowmen. It just doesn't make me feel very good.
• Crazy Jesus freaks. Listen, I think it's super fantastic that you really, really like the guy, okay? Just please refrain from passing judgement on others in his name. Something tells me that he would not be pleased. And also, you're really creepy.
• Being secretly recorded by your seven-year-old. So, you play your recorder (thinking you're going to be listening to yourself making witty comments and telling fucking hilarious stories) and instead you are being verbally assaulted by the sound of your own yelly voice... telling the seven-year-old how she is perfectly capable of cleaning her room all by herself and, following some seriously annoying whining, proceeding to inform her that you do not have any help while you're stuck taking care of/cleaning up after/doing everything for: every. single. person. IN THIS HOUSE! It was not pretty. Sorry, Moosh! Love ya!
• A gynecologist who is also a stand up comedian. For real. Actually does stand up at comedy clubs. The Gigglin' Gyno (is what I call him.) Actually, I retract this last one as it makes the whole sitting in stirrups scene much more enjoyable when your doctor is saying things like "There's my contact... I've had to wear my glasses for years now and I hate these things!" Thank the dear Lord that he didn't leave his glasses in there!
• Dogs with diarhea and 50mph winds (with 75mph wind gusts) Now granted, this is outdated... I did not like this about a month ago. Now, it's actually kind of amusing when I pretend like it happened to someone else. Here's the scene (as originally written in an email to my mother): If you're ever wondering what happens when someone turns on a gigantic fan at 75 mph while a dog is pooing herself... well, wonder no more. It blows all over the fucking place. It's actually kind of funny now that I'm reading it but not while it was happening (isn't that always the way it is?) Anyway, when we came in the garage (after several scream-filled minutes of diarrhea) I had to wipe her off but all the towels were gone (due to the water in the basement and my husbands use of said towels) and all I had was swiffer refills. So I swiffered my dog. I'm not sure if that constitutes dog abuse but I think it would have been a LOT worse if I'd have left the wet, runny poo all over her body. Did I mention that David had fed the dog "dog jerky?" prior to her bout with the 'rhea? Seriously. God help us.