Who is this asshole, and why does he get to write the laws.

Tell me where he lives and I will drive my spiked heel through his temple. Or spinal column.  He can choose cause I am nice like that.  Not like him.  Bastard.

Two days ago I was complaining about Summer (complaining?  Yes.  Surprising isn’t it that I would complain about something being the breezy happy chick that I am…) and I said:

“How about I fucking despise Summer, more than pregnancy hormone induced hemorrhoid’s and even more than when my coffee machine expired.”

(any English teachers out there?  Do I have to do quotations when I am quoting myself?)

Well guess what happened today?  Oh yes my lovely internets, the new just-an-interim-cheap-jobbie-cause-I-am-a-cheap-bastard coffee machine my husband bought in September, during that horribly expensive week of take out coffee 3 times a day, fucking blew up!

Well not literally.  It wouldn’t work.  It exploded into pieces when I hurled the heap of shit across the room.

Well not literally.  But I did give it a good smack.  Mums these days have to smack appliances to get out their frustrations.  Not like in my Mums day when kids were regularly belted around the head for the indiscretions of white goods.

My head is pounding.  My hands are shaking.  The washing is piling up (cause that is the coffee machine’s fault) and the kids are talking at me but I can’t hear anything.

Cause BLOOD is coursing through my veins.  Not caffeine. And my body can’t handle that shit.

I haven’t said anything to the kids.  They are still traumatised from the last time.  But they know something is up.  Mummy is not happy and I just announced that we are having take away for dinner.  On. A. Thursday.

‘Oooh what are we having?  Can we have Chinese or Subway?’ asked Too excitedly

‘I. Don’t. Care.’ I muttered through gritted teeth, my head pounding from the withdrawl and every word pulsing in my head.  The headache has started.  The shakes will happen soon, and they will have to lock me in the bathroom to prevent me stuffing coffee beans up my arse.

Cause that is the fastest way to get something in your system, idiot.  I am not that kinky.

I have eaten the coffee flavoured icecream in the freezer.  It was just flavoured, no freaking buzz from that.

I toyed with the idea of making an instant *shudder* cause I keep that shit for guests cause some freakshows don’t like the real stuff. Like those heathens that I gave birth to that prefer  easter egg chocolate and that plastic shit that they call chocolate in Advent calendars to real (caffeine filled) chocolate……..

HANG ON!!!!!!!!!!  OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HANG ON!

*sob* looks like the biatches will eat the good stuff if the crap is not available.

Oh Gaggia Gods!  Why have you forsaken me?

So is a broken coffee machine rendering me caffeine-less or Summer worse?

Ask me tomorrow.  Or maybe don’t.  Cause I will be even worse in the morning.

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