Fuck You lskdjfin

Word verification, how I loathe thee. The utter humiliation of not being able to comment ON YOUR OWN FUCKING BLOG. I glance at the swirling letters and attempt to convey your convoluted message to my trusty fingers, laughing with glee when the odious task is complete. Alas, my comment stares boldly back in my face, mocking my brain for the fucktard that it has become. The shame of having to attempt a second time, knowing that a tiny, retarded, in-bred child with a frontal lobotomy could conquer this task with ease. I hate you.

I would now spew forth foul streams of excrement about the evils of blogger spam, however I covered that topic with this post. Fuckers. All of you spammers and verifiers and everyone else that has ever sent a mass mailing or called me on the phone to offer me the fucking San Diego Union-Stupid-Assed-Tribune. I am waiting for a check to come in the mail, a check that would result in a Sam Happy Dance from the girl that does NOT dance. However, I am inundated with fucking advertisements and offers of dirty sex with pool boys.

It appears that I am on a rampage of gargantuan proportions. I am cranky. This crankitude has reached a level of spite and hatred that has amazed me. Today I was watching Oprah give a house to a needy mother with 10 children. Instead of being touched and wanting to hug everyone, I wondered if anyone had ever told this women how babies are made and to just STOP FUCKING RIGHT NOW. Then I learned that she had adopted seven of the children because they were her nieces and nephews. Instead of being contrite, I thought to myself "Well someone should have told her sister/brother to STOP FUCKING" and then I was marginally ashamed of myself as the aforementioned sibling is probably dead. But only marginally ashamed.

I think that I have spent too much time on my blog being the sweet mommy Sam and not enough time venting. Therefore, I have become a total fucking cunt in my real life. Or, I've always been a cunt but RIGHT NOW even I know it. Tomorrow I'll probably forget and go about my life as usual, wondering why people are staring as steam and small sparks come out of my ears.

Note: At the insistence of Chicken, I just read him this post without realizing that many of the words/meanings he previously did not fully grasp he probably now does. I just have one request, can I be a pretty, pretty princess in hell?