That this guy might be missing an essential male body part?

Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.

-Oscar Wilde

We here at Mushroom Printing have decided that what we need is not cowbell. It’s more Shut Your Whore Mouth!

Also: more Vodka.

Obviously.

So what we’re going to do is this. We’re going to throw a blog party. A WEEKLY blog party. Here’s what we’re doing: Each week, we’re all gonna rant. About what? Doesn’t matter. Can be a small post, a big post, whatever. If you write a rant on your own blog, we’re adding a link-widget so you can put your blog link to your own rant for us. If you have no blog or would prefer to write a rant in the comments, feel free. So grab a badge and let’s begin:

I like to believe I don’t hate anyone.  I may be annoyed by or dislike someone, but hate?  That’s a very strong term.  So let’s just say I have very strong unfriendly feelings about you.

I seriously do not know what your issue is with me, or why you’ve made getting along with you so damn near impossible over the past year.  We volunteer at the same place.  We’re on the same team.  We have daughters who are the same age.  We could have ended up friends.  But no.

Somehow, I think you see me as competition?  I volunteer to take pictures at an event, your husband takes better quality pictures with his expensive camera.  You feel the need to add Bible quotes to conversations when we’re talking to our mutual devoutly Christian friend so you will sound more “godly” and educated.  My daughter takes therapeutic riding lessons, so does yours, PLUS paid lessons.  You’ve taken over the Facebook page for the organization we volunteer at.  You dominate volunteer meetings.  And most of all, you seem to want to compete to prove who is the better friend to a mutual friend of ours. Basically, you do anything you can think of to be better than me, while I’m not even in this make believe competition.

Some may suggest that I talk to you, try to figure out what actually makes you tick, figure out if I’m mistaken.  They probably don’t realize you won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me.  All over something I posted on Facebook?  Yes, I called you out on in a comment.  I politely asked you to lay off a girl – no, actually a young woman, an adult, as she’s 18, because in your quest to control and be the best of everything, you were mothering her in every comment you made.  Letting her know how disappointed you were if she wasn’t studying when you felt she should, etc.  It finally really got to me, and I let you know, but as I said, politely. But suddenly your oh so good name was tarnished.  Someone said something negative about you!  Your image of perfection you had created for yourself had a tiny crack in it. You sent me private messages, you called me, asking me to take that comment down NOW.  I didn’t.  And I ignored your messages.  And you can’t handle that. You can’t even bring yourself to look at me.  Your daughter won’t approve my daughter’s friend request on Facebook.  What do the two of them have to do with your insecurities??

What I don’t understand is why this bothers me as much as it does.  I don’t even want to volunteer at the same time as you anymore, and I find myself not even wanting to try.  Why take pictures, plan events, etc., when you’re just going to one-up me anyway?  If it’s so important to you, fine.  Be the best volunteer, the better friend.  I give up.

Photo Credit

If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Then go find someone whose life gives them vodka and have a party!

You know what? I have chronic hives. Which means I have hives All. The. Time. I am aware that I have hives. Really? Oh yes, really. So you, attempting to be helpful by pointing them out, are shockingly not actually helpful to me. Nor are your suggestions for minor league over the counter drugs that beginners take.

I’m beyond those tester drugs. I’ve had hives so long; I qualify for the Allergy Olympics. I could win a gold medal in tissue tossing, and at least a silver in liquid drug chugging. I could run circles around your $10 OTC drugs with my overpriced prescription meds that keep me up at night. So the next time you want to point out how awesome I don’t look, or how you can cure me with your miracle nose spray, maybe try asking how I’m holding up instead. It’s insulting that you think I live like this on purpose. No one chooses to have fire ants attacking their skin 24/7 because it sounds like an awesome adventure. A nice big print to you do-gooders.

I’ve read so much about the evils of drinking & smoking that I’ve given up reading.

You fucking little cunt, you baseless whore.

How could you stomp on his heart like that? He bent over backwards to love you, support you during your bizarre family shit, and you repay him by fucking cheating on him?

You didn’t have to decency to breakup, but you had to sneak around his back?

You crushed my brother. You were the first person he dated, he loved, first kissed.

I swear to God if he runs off to join the Armed Forces because he is so upset, I will hunt your ass down. I warned you when you first started dating that I would get all over his case if he mistreated you at all. But in the same breath I told you I would kill you if you ever hurt him.

What does the old Knight say in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? “He chose poorly.” So did you.

You have such a wit! Too bad we’ve only seen half of it.