The Power of Screaming

This is a story about me and a hot dog. Sit back and relish in the fact that you are not me and for that....you should be very grateful.

So. Some pile of shit decided to rain on my parade. I don't like people who rain on my parade. Sure. I may be the only idiot in this parade but that is bygons. Moving on..........

So. Let me start over. I was hungry for a hot dog. Yes. Me and a hot dog equaled LOVE today. Usually, I gag at the mere thought of hot dogs (meaning the actual hot dog....not the hot dog smothered in my husbands underwear....I like that kinda hot dog.). But today, I got a unsuspected craving for hot dogs. *Gag*

And because we were at Sam's Club and we hadn't had lunch yet, we embarked on their cafeteria for a quick grub fest. And I was salivating. I was frothing at the mouth. I was ready to munch on some wieners. I had just got done making it all purdy with some ketchup and mustard and it was looking mighty fine. Bow-chicka-bow-wow.

This is were the old bastard decided to educate me on what hot dogs are made of. And I was ready to belch up everything that had been in my stomach within the last 24hr period after his lecture. And I could not bring myself to put the plump wiener in my spit pooled mouth. Even though I wanted nothing more than to eat a hot dog....I couldn't eat left over pig guts encased in pig intestine.

I held back my urge to give this old dick a good ass kick. I wanted to karate chop his eyeballs out. I was so pissed that he ruined me giving into a pregnancy craving (NO. I'm not pregnant. Apparently when I joke to people that I am pregnant they forget that I have no equipment to make or house a baby.). I wanted that wiener shoved in my mouth!!! GAWD.

So, instead I gave the old geiser a dirty look and sarcastically thanked him for informing me of the dynamics to hot dog making while throwing my lunch (and money) in the trash. He got the clue I was really not that thankful. I wanted to yell: "Seriously, your so old you remember when the Dead Sea was just sick, but in all the years, you never figured out to shut the fuck up when not spoken too?????"

His wife gave me "the look" like "Yes...I married this schmuck!" and I gave her a sympathetic look back. The look that says: "Miss, I know your pain." Men need to learn to shut their freaking face-holes. And let me tell you what. I moaned and groaned and bitched and complained until.....well....until now really.

I should learn to get over things quicker. It might help my moods.

Then again, it may not. So screw it.

And may I add "Go Packers!" Actually, I can add that because it is my blog so "Go Packers"