Daily Rant  Big Rants

Mornings.. ick beep beep beep beep beep SLAP. grumble freakin alarm grumble grumble hack cough cough wheeze freakin asthma grumble grumble Fling myself out of bed and stumble towards the bathroom. First order of business? Comb my hair. Now this may seem strange to you, but you'd understand if you had 30 inches of ponytail that somehow EVERY SINGLE NIGHT manages to get wrapped around your head, shoved up your nose, and crawls into your ear. Talk about snarled hair, mine normally looks like an LA highway at 7:30am when a herd of emus have just stampeded across the road and the "gawker slowdown" extends into the next dimension. After 5 minutes of yanking, pulling, twisting, bribing, threatening, swearing, sandblasting, waterpik-ing, and general hair destruction, I can finally see out of both my eyes. "Why the heck doesn't Sarah have to do this every morning?" I ask myself without fail. You see, my wife has FORTY inches of ponytail yet she wakes up every morning and it's almost perfect. Beeatch. Next up, find some clothes. Stumble stumble.....WHACK.....OUCH!!!! $^%ING BOXES!!!! (we just moved into our house and have a little unpacking left to do, you know that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where they show the warehouse? That's the spare bedroom of our house) limp limp stumble stumble grumble "I wish my clothes would just leap onto my body so I wouldn't have to worry about it" grumble grumble grab some clothes and put them on, and if I'm lucky, my pants aren't on my left arm and right leg and my shirt isn't wrapped around my ankle. Back to the bathroom we go. Apply anti-odor gel to junction of arm and shoulder, spread anti-germ paste to mastication organs and scrub, activate automatic facial hair removal device and move over parts of face until no hair can be seen, splash alcohol-based babe-attraction scent to neck, fasten lower clothing slippage preventer around waist, slip feet into portable man-size tires with aquatred, kiss still-sleeping naked wife goodbye, grab outer garment fashioned from dead cow hide and apply to upper body and head out to work. Of course, that's if my morning was normal. Unfortunately, that's not always the case. Those mornings where you wake up thinking you've slept a half hour on a bed of pissed off porcupines get a little more... interesting. Stumble out of bedroom, take wrong turn end up in the garage trying to comb my hair with a tire iron while applying anti-odor gel to my face and shaving my still-sleeping wife with toothpaste and an aquatred tire. Figure out where the hell I am, apologize to my wife for the removal of her left eyebrow, stumble back into the house, land in the bathroom, fasten belt around my teeth while slipping my feet into some alcohol-based babe attractor, wrap my leather jacket around my head to prevent my pet love rhino from slipping while beating my hyperactive razor to death before it shaves off all my butt hair and leaves me with a shorn scrotum. (quite exhilarating I tell you) One of these days, I think they're going to fire me. Note to self: never masticate in front of your boss, especially if all you're wearing is a leather jacket around your head and you've just had your privates forcibly shaved by a Braun electric.