Thats just how I feel.




Two rants in one day? Oh it’s either totally glorious or something so totally craptastic has gotten right up my nose that the rage cannot be contained. Benadryl? Hell no! We’ve wandered in Xanax territory and not just one bar, I’m talking the whole friggin bottle. Or all the bottles in the largest drug store I can find. Oh and I’m on the hunt. RX be damned, I’m doing a dine and dash. If caught I’m pleading either temporary insanity or diminished capacity, depending on the tox screen levels.


So FB Messenger, I get the feeling you’re trying to drive me past the brink of sanity, which is precarious even on a good day. With you in my life, it’s a bad day. When you fuck with me it’s a homicidal day. Mark if I knew where you lived, man you’d be in trouble. I’d tie you to a chair in a silent room with nothing but the sound of a slow drip. For. The. Rest. Of. Eternity! Or until this madness stops…. Or you starve. Whichever comes first, problem solved. Unless you’re second in charge is just as big of a dick… On second thoughts, I’m taking all FB executives, developers and computer doer people hostage till this situation is resolved!


We all know my complete loathing for messenger. Privacy issues ect ect ect. No need to rehash, my nose is bleeding just thinking about it. Pass me a box of Kleenex. Actually pass me a few, cause I won’t stop till those fuckers are crying tears of blood.


Anyhow, revenge aside. Why the LIVING FUCK are you making me install the messenger app EVERY DAMN DAY? With that galling welcome message and making it seem like I had a choice, and I made a smart choice? Stabby, it makes me stabby. If I didn’t need my phone it would have become a projectile by now. Unfortunately I need it, so I need to find other shit to smash…. It’s like a Greek wedding, without the joy and well wishes. More voodoo chants than I like to admit to knowing. Yeah I’m constructing a MZ voodoo doll. I don’t sew, ever. So you’ve inspired me to take up a temporary hobby. If I suck at it, the OCD perfectionist in me is likely to get its whole own personality. Legal defence noted please, I’m no longer responsible for my actions!


So I’m forced to install your stupid app. On random occasions I can uninstall the app and proof it’s gone from my life. Until the next random chipper message tells me I need to install it. Today? This morning I had to install. Uninstall? Nope please reinstall. Argh! Instant craving to smash some skulls. Now? I deleted it, just to see. Magically, now I don’t need it. I’m titled so far that if I was a fault line, which I’ve often suspected, the Richter scale is about to spike. Along with my blood pressure and the elaborateness of my plans for revenge. Die fuckers, die, just isn’t cutting it anymore!


So what is going on? We know you have a SVEN group who HAVE to have messenger. That’s bad enough. We know you have the blessed group who don’t have to have messenger. So what?! Am I in a third group that you intend to mind fuck till the end of time. Granted it’s not beyond the realm of possibility your software is glitchy, actually that’s expected. But to have a mind fuck group? Oh man you picked the wrong “FB Pleb” to taunt! Cause I’m all kinds of crazy. That Xanax consumption won’t curb that, it will just slow me down enough not to exact revenge too swiftly, buying me time to best work out how to give it back to you in kind, so bend over!


I am not a good “test group”. In fact I fail most tests. The psychopathy test is a great example. I prefer to see the high scores as not failing but overachieving. The morality high score keeps people safe. Unfortunately FB, you’re not people. So morality be dammed. The psychopath killed it, it’s laying next to the unicorn.


FB you’re fucked. Messenger you’re fucked. You think we NEED you? Well we don’t, we only think we do because you tell us so. But you lie! Lie! Lie, lie,lie! MySpace thought we needed them too and where are they now eh?! Exactly. You’re not sitting on the lofty perch you think. I hate to break it to you but anyone with half a brain knows Google has plans to sink you, they WILL sink you and I sure as shit will dance naked in the street that day comes! That’s a promise; get your video cameras ready!


See FB your irritating, you have no regard for you consumers and somewhere along the line developed a god complex. Since it’s arguable whether god exists at best or at worst you’re a false deity, your fall will be great. You’re the annoying relative everyone puts up with because they have to, until they decide they no longer have the patience for you. Google is the cool cousin, who everyone likes but fails to live up to their potential. Well until someone lights a fire up their ass. Consider that fire lit!


To be clear FB you’re not cool, not at all and we will never be cool again. Google on the other had, cool! Effortlessly cool. You know this; you should have taken this into consideration. So FB my message remains, die, die die!


To Google? We want to love you, we are cool. Get it together, sink the Gonzo’s and let’s get this party started! Fireworks and all!


Oh yeah and I read the article:


I don’t believe for a nano second you’ve let this glitch last this long. You’re dumb but not that dumb. It’s a smokescreen, cleverly constructed but totally transparent. You get to fuck with us under the guise we all know your stupid. It’s a stroke of genius. The fact remains that while genius, it’s also far too convenient. It would be the first time ever a “glitch” has lasted so long. Even you aren’t that dumb. So stop lying, making out it’s just a glitch and not some convoluted plan to gauge users patterns. It’s pretty obvious most people hate messenger. Can you read? Do you read the things posted about you? If not can you get someone to read it to you? I’ll summarise to make it easy “People hate it and those smart enough WILL work out a way that we don’t have to use it. After that we will work out a way we don’t have to use you”…


I wonder if I search for that enough on my browser whether I’ll get targeted ads for Google +?! Somehow I think not. Again, fuckers!



carl P

Cue song : Am I Wrong?  by Nico & Vinz

Performance Anxiety…..



I discovered today one of the biggest problems with having a blog. You know what it is? Not writing to try and keep up with other blogs out there cause honestly I don’t care much for bloggers or blogging, no offense to other bloggers but on the whole I’m just not that into you. Nothing personal, or maybe it is I’m not sure, but you tend to drive me a little round the bend. I will expand on this further, when I rant about blogs that make me itchy. The kind of itchy that Benadryl wont fix and leads to the spilling of blood, normally mine from all the insane scratching. Of course there are exceptions to this rule, there are always exceptions to the rule, that gives me wiggle room!

It’s the pressure. Like real pressure, just trying to keep up with yourself and make sure each post is as good as, if not better than the last. OMG, that’s a lot of pressure for someone with OCD and a perfectionist streak a mile long. Pass the Benadryl, this post is making me itchy! Even I have limits to how witty, sarcastic, caustic or quirky I can be. Sure a lot of this is carb dependent, if you catch me on a carb high make sure you take a picture, because it’s always going to be epic. If you catch me on a no sleep caffeine high, run and hide. I think I’m hilarious in this state, others not so much so. The word “mean” has been used, but seriously I just think they are being oversensitive. So I find you funny, that’s a good thing, not many truly funny people out there. Well not that I want to be friends with, cause they are generally funny due to stupidity and with that though I’m chugging/swallowing handfuls of the Benadryl again. Don’t worry its OTC (over the counter) so no real harm can come from it presumably.


So for a perfectionist, OCD individual trying to write to keep up with yourself is a total mind bend. I’m competing WITH myself. The funny thing is in any competition or argument, Id back myself every damn time. Though when I’m pitted against myself? Woah it’s crazy, past self suddenly becomes the victim and present self the attacker, which seems fine in my head but in reality I have a feeling crosses a indefinable line between sanity and not quite right. I’m not sure trying to sink my past self is healthy and the fact present self doesn’t really care that healthy either. Yeah Freud psychoanalyze they crap out of that, lets just assume it comes back to some sort of parental complex or sex. Keeping those two ideas COMPLETELY separate or I’ll need to drink the entire bottle of Benadryl to cope.

muddled brain

So where was I? Oh yes that’s right, performance anxiety… Ok giggle, get it out-of-the-way…. Done? Good…. Lets continue.


Just like everyone else I have limits to how whity, sarcastic and full of quirky ideas. Well at leat ones I can publish that won’t land me in jail, get me divorced, have my kids taken or have bombs mailed to me. Can I write that last part? Postal bombs are no joke and I’m not mocking them at all, but if you were me you’d understand that they are a pretty legitimate concern. In my head at least. Note well to self, husband must check mail in future. No damn it that won’t work, how will I hide my internet shopping obsession? I need a mail fetching robot. Anyone want to build me one? Lets call him SVEN, just as a tribute to the Gonzo’s at FB. Hmm, maybe in 5 years when FB is sunk Mark can collect my mail? Solid plan. Jot that down. Ta!


Ok so back to my issue with coming up with ideas, good ideas. You know ideas that are good enough not stop me braining myself with the keyboard or trying to chase the computer mouse, cause damn Xanax cat isn’t getting that job done anytime soon. Maybe I need to put it on a plate like I’m going to eat it? That seems to get her attention.


So I sit here wracked with self-doubt. What if I peaked too early? What if my first post was too good? Maybe I should have started off crap, then that’s way the only way is up. Rather than down the proverbial crapper. My ego dislikes this, a lot. I like my ego, my ego loves me. See my problem? My ego doesn’t know whether to love or hate me anymore or to turn on itself. It’s a mess. What I do know it plays to win and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of its wrath. A pissy ego means I’m earning myself a very bad day. Which in turn means to feel better, someone else needs to have a worse day at my discretion. Any show of hands?


I suddenly know what it’s like to be a man, well sort of. There are a lot if things I’ll never understand, fart jokes, penis obsessions (their own not others I hope, but I’m all for freedom of choice), vagina obsessions (I’m assuming not their own, again I’m all about free choice), weird food choices, brinner (breakfast for dinner), had to be invented by a man. Also the song Africa by Toto, staple man favourite. God knows why?! Maybe cause he blessed the rains down in Africa? Whatever, it’s weird. Rum, adult cartoons (oxymoron anyone?), computer games, even worse online gaming oh and Journey. You know “Don’t stop believing”. Which was a manly staple until it became a Glee hit, now it’s totally uncool for a guy to like it…. Until you get them drunk. Ahh liquid truth serum, you make life so much more interesting. So cheers to that!


But my point is, the fear of peaking too early and then ruining it for the rest of our relationship. Well actually, I’m sure if a man peaked a bit later the next time around then things might improve. That’s if there is a next time around. But that’s a big what IF? You peak too early and lets just say to be putting out on what’s our second date, you’re pretty damn lucky, the criticism is going to be harsh. Though damn you who are you to judge, you put out on the second date? Yeah think about that for a while.


So now I have performance anxiety. What if I don’t perform, live up to your expectations. What if I don’t float your boat, what if you decide I smell funny? Hey I guess its possible, is there a smell app out there yet, it seems someone should have invented a smelling fart app. OMG what if my post is too small? How long is the average post? What if you don’t like the way I use it (waving to the grammar police out there and then giving them the middle finger, yeah you can Bite My Bark frankly, we are not friends, ever… well unless you are my friend and I tolerate this abomination cause you have some overwhelming redeeming feature I’ve decided I like. Though don’t rule out it’s just I like picking on you for being the grammar police)…. Targenting, you’ll need to learn to go with it. Swig the Benadryl, you’ll catch up soon enough!

scrambled eggs

So back to comparing myself with other blogs generally and then specifically that are my blog, not to be confused with random blogs. Confused yet? Welcome to my scrambled egg mind, actually brinner sounds good right about now….How many hits do they get and where do they rank? On Google obviously, but there are millions of blogs. God it’s like having a hooker rank clients, can I buy your good graces by tipping well? Scrap that, I never pay full retail for anything, so buying you would end up having you call me cheap and that’s not something that’s helping my performance anxiety. How do I compare to other blogs you read, do I rate in the top 10? Will you remember my name 10 minutes after leaving my page, let alone the next day. Will you want to get down with my blog again? Will you bookmark me? We all know bookmarking is the speedial of the internet world…. Hang on, back up a bit, your bookmarking me after our second date and after you put out? Yeah I really know how men feel, the pressure, bookmarking = future plans. Eeek!. No you can’t meet my parents, but don’t worry my husband didn’t meet them till a year of dating. I also didn’t put out on the second date, so overall you’re doing better than he did.


Man, this blog thing is rough. I guess the plus side to all of this is I have boobs. Yeah sure it’s not related, but it’s a plus to everything really.


Start Here…

Well first things first, the per functionary welcome. So welcome. Now we have the formalities out of the way, let’s begin.

This is a blog, specifically a rant blog. So of you like all things ranty, you’ve found a safe place! Safe being a relative term I guess. I originally wanted to title this blog “Things that irritated me enough to get up this morning”. Then I realised irritated or not I can post from the comfort of my bed, so it would be slightly misleading. We can’t have that, starting off on the wrong foot is hard to recover from. This I know. You know the brain to mouth filter? I didn’t inherit one. Makes for interesting times. Interesting of course is the kind word for it.

So I guess a you’re wondering who I am? That can be found in the FAQ section. Well if I had one, which I don’t. The problem with frequently asked questions is you actually need to answer them. So that’s an issue. I’m happy to have a FAQ that go unanswered section. That reader I will leave up to you. See? I am amenable when I want to be. Though generally this is only when I’m not hungry. If I’m hungry, unless you’re some carb laden goodness, we can’t be friends. This is a temporary glitch which I’m happy to own. I’ll save the low carb rant for another day, it’s worth the wait.

So I guess a lot of you are wondering why a blog with the word bark and bite in the title has Grumpy Cat as their main picture. Well let me tell you that cat has a way about him I just adore. He, in one glance, can sum up perfectly how I feel about a lot of people a lot of the time. In ONE look. That’s impressive! So much so I decided a wonderful addition to my life would be my very own Grumpy Cat. I could just whip her out as needed. Now see this is where the real problem starts. My Grumpy Cat? Sweetest little white fluff ball you will ever meet. Totally social, very loving and addicted to all types of human affection. I blame the breeder, who breeds a not grumpy Grumpy Cat? Someone who doesn’t respect the pure genius that is Grumpy Cat, that’s who! Some would call her a good breeder, I call her a dream smasher!

So my white little ball of fluff, follows me everywhere. Talks to me constantly. Wants to sit in my lap and shower me with love. She wants to sit on my keyboard and not to chase the damn mouse like normal cats do. Oh no. She just wants to be close. In fact, I’m convinced she is now permanently attached to me by a half inch invisible string. Well at the times she’s actually not physically attached to me.

I’ve yet to get one look of disdain, a slightly raised eyebrow or even a WTF look. Trust me I’ve tried. Humanely of course. Nothing put pure adoration and affection. Even when I tell her off for trying to eat my food. No one eats my food. Rule, the end. Not even craptastically happy Ms GC!

She’s nothing but love, which most people would love. Me? Not so much so. Maybe I’m damaged, my mother didn’t hug me enough or some other deeply imbedded psychological excuse I could dig up because if it’s convenient. Let’s face it, those gems are gold. But I digress.

If I wanted constant annoying bids for my attention, snuggles and licks I’d have gotten a dog. Cats are supposed to be aloof and independent, I’m certain of this, I read it on the internet somewhere. Mistake right there, since when does the internet tell you the truth? Again, another rant for another day.

So I have this almost Xanax happy “Grumpy Cat” who follows me around all day. Honestly?! It makes ME grumpy…. Like really grumpy. Take THE Grumpy Cat on his worst day and that’s about a 100th of  what I feel. Grumpy Cat, you sell out! Your’e a bastard for your false advertising and spectacularly grumpy ways. I hate you as much as you hate the world!

As for my “Grumpy Cat”…. Yeah I got grumpy, not the cat. All I can say is, well played cat, well played. I’m sure under it all she’s an evil genius and licks her claws after she’s sharpened them on my favorite shoes… While I’m sleeping of course.


If you “awwed” or “ohhhed” even internally at this picture, this place became just a little less safe for you!