I had a shit day at work. And I’m pissed off that I’m still in a shitty mood, two hours into my own time.
You know what else shits me?
Listening to the bullshit that goes on in Parliament as the Opposition tries to score points on asylum seekers. They’re desperate people. Pull your head out of your fucking privileged arse (yes, Julie Bishop, I’m talking to you – not only have you played the immigration queue jumper card, but now you’re saying the Sri Lankans on the Oceanic Viking will jump the public housing queue. You are making me very, very cross).
People who think asylum seekers are queue-jumping terrorists rolling in money.
The sales people at work who are never on the phone selling anything and then go shopping at lunch because they earn a shitload more than I do, yet I’m the one creating the product they sell (or don’t/can’t sell, as the case often is). And then when money’s tight, the journos are the first to go.
People who blame women for violence against women.
That the snails aways get to the strawberries before me, no matter how many snail pellets and beer traps I use.
And that the neighbour’s cat shits under our window. And it got in last weekend and pissed in the living room in a bag Man Friend’s step mum brought back from France for us. I hate that cat.
Got something you want to add? Go on, let it out.