The 100 Days of Misery Project: Chunk One.

So as promised, here we go. To any ‘followers’ who are not ‘Facebook Friends’: Firstly, I welcome you. Secondly, I doubt your existence. According to my page ‘statistics’ there are already over 500 of you, on which I call Shenanigans. I have received about seven emails alerting me I am being ‘followed’ and all of them are from people I know. Irregardless (not a word) let me give some introduction to what you possibly existing folks are about to read. I did a little project on Faceboook called #100daysofmisery. I’d been seeing #1000daysofhappiness pop up here and there, and naturally it pissed me off. The Bride says “Why don’t you write 100 days of misery?” And I said “Like I’ll ever keep up with that” and then I did, which surprised no one more than me. About twenty-five days in, the pressure starts. ‘What are you going to do next, what are you going to do next?’ Well, this, I guess. Is that proper comma usage? I doubt it. I am a serial comma abuser.

That was my way to lengthy introduction. Here are the first ten days of misery, all in one convenient place.

1.) 100 days of this? Are you sh*ting me? I can barely imagine getting out of bed for the next 100 days.

Day 2: In yesterdays post, I used a * symbol instead of an ‘i’ in the word ‘shitting’. Now I am filled with shame over my cowardice.

Day three: Comcast.

Day four: I like to put “shower” on my daily to-do list, because most days I can cross it off without lying.

Day five: People say “it takes 37 muscles to frown and only 12 to smile”, as if they have a doctorate in facial physiology. Actually, I don’t know much of anything particularly about the muscles needed to frown or smile. It’s the sentiment I hate.

Day Six: My dog snacks out of the cat box. According to the ASPCA website “There is no apparent reason for this strange behavior.”

#100 Days of Misery# Day 7: They say “You can never step in the same river twice” and that’s supposed to be meaningful in some way. Once, twice, whatever, you’re going to get your shoes wet. I guess you could take off your shoes first, but then you have to wait for your feet to dry before you put your shoes back on because have you ever had wet feet in shoes? Awful. Awful.

#100daysofmisery #Day 7: Yesterday I was my daughter’s dance recital. The man who sat in front of me was steroids. I do not mean he was a steroid user, I mean he had used so many steroids that he been completely replaced by them, the way minerals replace organic matter in the process of fossilization. His neck was, no hyperbole, seven times thicker than his head. Instead of kids dancing all I saw was an enormous neck topped by a tiny head, like an orange sitting on a cinder block.

#100daysofmisery #Day9: So I’m on my ninth day and every day the wife’s all “You’re doing the hash tags wrong, you’re doing the hash tags wrong”, so I keep trying to do it the way she says to and she’s still “You did the hash tags wrong” and then yesterday I do it yet another way and the damn things get little blue boxes around them, which I guess means now they do something. I’m pretty sure they don’t take me to dinner or tell me everything is going to be all right, so honestly? I don’t care what they do. I don’t care. Hash tag? It’s the symbol for number. I can barely tolerate it being the ‘pound’ sign on the phone. Friggin’ thing has more identity issues than me. Plus which? I did two god damn day sevens instead of doing a day eight.

#100daysofmisery #Day10 : So a lot of people don’t ‘get’ why I’m doing this. Well, I’m fine with not being ‘gotten’. I’m more than fine with it. ‘not being gotten’ is my damn wheel house (and no I don’t know what a ‘wheel house’ is and yes I could look it up very easily and the hell if I will.) This is either a joke or a cry for help and it isn’t a cry for help. Get it now? Jesus. If I knew I was going to have to do all the heavy lifting I’d have skipped the whole damn thing.

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