My Nerves and What's On Them

Stuff is getting on my damn nerves. You want to know what? No? Well, I'm going to tell you anyway.

Olivia Newton-John is coming to town. That's great. It's really excellent that her 70 year old ass is going to sing about getting physical and how Travolta better shape up cause she needs a man. My real beef with her arrival is that all of the local radio stations announce her upcoming visit every 3.2 seconds.

I think one DJ interruppted Ozzy's "Ironman" with an important bulletin that Miss Newton-John was only 478 hours away from making her appearance. I certainly hope Jesus gets as much attention when the trumpets sound one day.

I picked up a pop culture magazine at the hospital last week and the breaking news on the front cover was "Look! Justin Timberlake loves Jamba Juice! See Page 24 for details!"

With so much excitement spewing forth that my hands began to shake and I could barely hold the magazine, I turned to page 24. Yeah, there was a picture of JT in a stupid ass beanie hat drinking Jamba Juice.

I was left wanting, needing more. Was the Jamba Juice poisoned? Was Justin Timberlake writing a new song about Jamba Juice? Had Justin filed for bankrupcy and was now working at Jamba Juice? What the F is so important about freaking Justin Timberlake drinking damn Jamba Juice? Who paid for the ink to print such an un-important story? Did my tax dollars fund this? Isn't there more important things going on in the world besides an ex Mousketeer drinking a mother-effing smoothie????

Aren't there some starving kids somewhere? Rapists, murderers, batshit crazy women cutting the crotch out of their husband's slacks? Don't these stories have more pull than the fact that Effing Justin Timberlake drinks Jamba Juice?!

Holy shit, that kind of assanine bull-sha-nit pisses me off.

A "religious" woman with her long mane pulled into a tight bisuit (bun) on her head and a denim skirt dragging the Wal-Mart parking lot plowed into my car last week. When she stepped out of the car, with her "religious" attire, I felt a sense of peace that this lady would be apologetic and her words would be kind and caring.

Turns out she lost her religion when she noticed the tail light on her Geo Speck was cracked. I drive a 42 million ton SUV. If you back into me, something is bound to get dented, Honey Boo Boo Child.

Her horns poked through the heavily applied Aussie kangaroo hairspray that covered her head, and she spoke to me like I was an inmate at San Quentin. I didn't know if I was more appalled at the words coming out of someone wearing a floor length denim skirt, or at the fact that she accused me of "flying down the parking lot aisle."

I didn't know that 0.8 MPH was flying, but oh well.

When the cops showed, Nutjob did a complete 360. Her horns disappeared and she had the nerve to speak in baby gibberish to my toddler. How are you gonna cuss me like a dog and then speak infant babble to my 2 year old? I think my son wanted to clock her in the forehead with a Thomas the Tank.

Hey, and get this. Several days later, she parked next to me at Wal-Mart again. She was no where in sight, but I wanted to hit her windshield with a baseball bat just for the hell of it.

Speaking of Honey Boo Boo child, that big mother with her neck rust, gnat covered forklift toe, and over abundance of bodily gasses is the stupidest crap I've seen on television since Temptation Island. And I don't know all the big hooplah about the Series Finale. It's not like we won't see Honey Boo Boo on Teen Mom in a few years.

Sometimes I watch the women on "The Real Housewives", (which the title is a damned lie because I am a real housewife and I have yet to see any of those spoiled bitches scrape hardened, spoiled milk from a sippy cup or spray Shout on their husband's skid marks)-and I think, is this drama for real? How can a person deal with this kind of psychotic he said/she said crap on a daily basis? I thank God Almighty in Heaven that I don't have to encounter such batshit craziness.

Well, I was suddenly approached by a chick that's crazier than Danielle Staub. Seriously. Borderline mentally insane. And I was in awe at the mentally challenged things that can come from an otherwise normal looking chick's mouth.

If I had to deal with this kind of psychotic female on a daily basis, I would probably rob the local Walgreens of Lithium. All I needed was a sneak peek into the world of psycho, and I was relieved that I am not a "real" housewife. And much props to those spoiled bitches for somehow dealing with drama on a daily basis and being blessed enough to not have to spray Shout on fecal matter. Kudos.

My mother called and said a Rattlesnake skin was behind her house. I laughed out loud because she lives in town, miles away from any kind of poisonous reptile.

Then I drove to her house, still laughing, and thinking my mother is exaggerating. How does she know the difference in a Rattlesnake and a large earthworm?

Well, Mother knows best because I nearly fainted at the sight of the 4 foot long skin and little rattler thingies on the end. In fact, I screamed, ran in the house, and double bolted the back door. The double bolt was for extra measure.

Damn you, slithering bastards. How can I let my children go to my mother's house when damn Anacondas are lurking around? That slimy little asshole has robbed me of a babysitter now. I don't take that lightly at all.

Hey DJ, shut the hell up. Olivia will get here when she gets here.