Infuriates me to the point of blood boiling over and out my ears in a sanguine mess.
Like if you were suicidal, and you just needed that one little push to take you over the edge, so you listen to Air Supply?
Like that, sort of.
Sweating like Hitler's pitts after he realised the Reich had fallen, he was hyperactive when I Skyped him. He has these, howshalliexplainit...bursts.
Let me explain. Dad is
He's amazing for it. And everyone who meets him thinks he's the shit. He is, yes, yes, I don't deny that for a second – but having him as my Dad can be very frustrating sometimes.
No one gets why. But then they're not his daughter.
His concentration span isn't his strongest point – and last night I lost my rag. From whence does this hail? I'd had a long day. Full of meetings, the barking down of telephones thereof. Not to mention dealing with Pretty the maid being in a rather foul mood. (Yes....plenty of wine glasses....judge me! Not even bovvered!)
Dad I suppose exacerbated this, when I was desperately trying to get hold of my uncle (his brother.) And he'll talk about everything but what I'm trying to get from him: a telephone number. He'll excitedly recite movie lines, saying hello to my dog which barks/yaps down the telephone receiver....that sort of stuff. Whilst I'm frazzled.
It weighs on my patience. On the upside, he's a talented pilot, politician (back in the day), writer, photographer, businessman, computer geek, meteorologist. He's done a lot of good stuff.
But hell's bells above.
PS: A few pearlers I've heard come out of guy's mouths...bringing me to the reason men are driving me fucking beserk lately:
1)Have you got a black eye? (No?) Oh, maybe you should get some more sleep.... (Do you want a black eye, dickface?)
3)Why don't you get married and have kids? (.......) (I have no words)
1)You have nice legs
5)Even though you're 26, you look like you're 21 (this was the best by far).
But boys still irritate me.
In so far that after an extremely emotional episode of Grey's Anatomy (Third season starts! Hooray!) last night, I nearly lost it.
George's girlfriend: “I'm making dinner for a guy I love, who doesn't love me back – I'm socially retarded.”
McNotsoDreamy: Tell her you love her, George. Before you die of the plague.
George: “Well I'm not sure if I do. But maybe...soonish.”
McNotsoDreamy: Soonish? You'll love her...soonish?”
And George doesn't tell her.
Strikes a chord. Makes me cry. After failed attempts to find love two relationships later.