1. My CPT textbooks that are staring me in the face right now, demanding to be opened and studied. Screw you guys, I’m tired. It’s Saturday Night Neflix and No Pants time.
2. Grammar. I know the name of this post is wrong, and ending a sentence with a preposition is bad. Whatever. Judge me.
3. The super great people at my super great restaurant who had less than super great attitudes when they came in and even though I bent over backwards to serve them– INCLUDING, and not at all limited to: accommodating their off-menu order, which also included special modifications, their SECOND off-menu and super complicated order, listening to their complaints that they did not like WHAT THEY SPECIFICALLY ASKED FOR, fixing their problems with EXACTLY WHAT THEY ORDERED, cleaning up and serving their very messy and indecisive child who changed his order twice, and doing it all with a mother f’ing smile while serving four other tables. Table 67. You know who you were.
4. My bank account. I try to so hard to keep it fed, yet it is never satisfied.
5. The TV, who refuses to show Sex in the City on any station.
6. My bank account again, because I can’t afford to purchase the Sex in the City DVDs or rent them online. I just want to hang out with Carrie, why is this so hard?
7. My feet. I already gave them ibuprofen, what more could they want?
9. My freezer, for it’s lack of ice-cream. It should know better.
10. The commercial for my aforementioned restaurant that just popped up on TV. Get out of my life, nobody invited you into my home.
BONUS: #11: Safari, which just crashed on me for the second time, and lost all of my saved pictures, links, and half of this damn post and worst of all– my place in the Cristina/Burke marriage episode of Grey’s Anatomy. F*ck you, I’m going to go download Chrome.