Parasites: The Ultimate Battle for Human Supremacy

Happy Monday, motherfuckers! I hope all of you had nice, relaxing weekends. SB had a nice weekend (it's always nice when I can be at home with my kitties and pup and my high-def TV), but it was decidedly NOT relaxing.

You should see my poor hands this morning! I have a blister in my right index finger from all the Lestoil mop water and from washing my hands literally hundreds of fucking times (UNTIL THEY FUCKING BLED) to keep flea transfer to a minimum. Also, there were the literally 30-some loads of wash I did. I went through two bottles of laundry detergent. If it wasn't nailed down, my ass washed it.

I hand-mopped all of the tile floors, and on Saturday, I ran up the road to the vet's office for a second can of the over-priced flea spray, JUST TO BE FUCKING SURE. I vacuumed each fucking room over and over and over and even went around the cocksucking baseboards. I spent about 10 hours on Saturday cleaning and at least 6 more on Sunday cleaning. Mr. Clean can kiss my fucking fat ass. I never want to see that smug grinning bald motherfucker's face AGAIN.

To top that motherfucking cocksucking shit off, I ran a brief errand Sunday afternoon, and when I got back, I found that Ginger the Diarrhetic Flea-Infested Wunderkind had gotten up and laid on the couch while I was gone. The same couch I had painstakingly swept (under cushions and in crevices and shit) multiple times earlier that day.

Normally, I put high school text books on the couch to dissuade that bony bitch from taking a nap there. Of course, I had forgotten in my hurry to leave the damn house to put the damn books on the cocksucking couch.

To say that my neighbours probably had their hands on the phone to call the PETA after the way I yelled at Ginger's dumb ass for said couch nap, would not be a stretch. YOU GODDAMN DODO MOTHERFUCKER! YOUR DAMN ASS HAD BETTER STAY OFF THE FUCKING COUCH, OR I WILL FUCKING GIVE YOU TO THE FIRST FUCKING PASSERBY! So there. Poor old flea infested bag of bones. And then I felt guilty after my little temper tantrum, of course. I will see you in hell--next to the bonfire--toasting marshmallows into perpetuity to feed to the good Christian folks in heaven who gave their retirement savings to PTL. There will be an extra chair if you want to help a bitch out.

If any of those parasitic motherfuckers are not dead or on their way to dead at this point, my ass will probably hang myself. I am only half joking.

The whole process wasn't as bad as cancer, obviously, but I think it ranks right under that. It was definitely one of the WORST FUCKING THINGS SB has ever been through in her pathetic life. I'd put it on par with my divorce. Seriously.

SB is the laziest motherfucker on Earth, and to clean like that, is just FUCKING TORTUROUS. It is soul-destroying. HAVE I BEEN DRAMATIC ENOUGH? Okay, enough already. You get it. I'll drop the pity party, but I must add that now, of course, I will have to go home after work each night this week and vacuum the entire house because I will feel itchy iffin I don't. Also, I don't know when I can safely stop vacuuming on a daily-fucking-basis, so it may be akin to that fucker in Greek mythology, holding the fucking rock into perpetuity. That is our word for the day, motherfuckers: PERPETUITY.

Thank Christ, it's a short week.