50 Shades of Cray In BR

Baton Rouge bridge traffic problems ranked 19th worst in U.S., research institute survey says | State Politics | theadvocate.com
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Due to my severe social anxieties I’m pretty much an agoraphobic by nature. I only leave when I absolutely must (doctors appointments, food for the kiddos, etc). I don’t like getting out one fucking bit, but especially as a parent one sometimes MUST.

Yesterday was one of those days. I had an appointment with my Neurosurgeon at 10:30am. The ride from my little rural town right outside of Baton Rouge was mostly interstate and mercifully uneventful at that time of day. As I pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex where all of my specialists are located I noticed hundreds of people. Outside. “What in the fucking fuck,” I muttered to myself as I got parked, grabbed my purse and headed for the building. As I got closer I asked a super sweet, chatty, older African American lady what was going on. She replied with “Lord, child some stupid ass young ‘un done called in a bomb threat.” “To a medical facility?” I asked incredulously. This sent Miss Gladys (as I later learned her name was) into the most hilarious rant about the chirren these days didn’t get dat ass beat nearly enough. That’s why they ALL acted like assholes. I was so caught up in her story and doubled over in fits of giggles, I didn’t even notice or mind the medical complex officials herding us back into the building. I of course sat by Miss Gladys as she was there for Neurology as well. By this time it was 11:20am and those fuckchops at reception told me that I was late for my appointment. You fucking think?!? Perhaps it was because you had 300 of us sick and hurting patients milling about in the hundred degree scorching heat with ninety percent humidity. Want to know what that feels like. Go wet a wool blanket soaking wet, lay it over your entire body including your face and try to breath. I was so enraged I threw a full fledged, stiff armed bug stomping fit. Right there in the check in line. I was sweating, swearing and ranting to such a degree they had to call security to calm me down. I think the two twenty something rent-a-cop’s were a bit intimidated by me because all they did was bring me a glass of cold water, a cool rag for my livid, feverish brow and gave me a few soothing words and hand pats. I shit you not, I got a standing ovation led by my new BFF, Miss Gladys, cheering loudly, ” You tell ’em, baby!”

Good thing she and I were having such a grand ole time because it made the hours pass much more quickly. It was nearly 2:00pm before either of us was seen.

The real fun didn’t start until I finally got on the interstate to head back home.

This is what I drove into. Remember I’m a shithouse rat CRAZY BITCH who had already had an unsettling fucked up day (except for meeting Miss Gladys, with whom I exchanged numbers so we could keep in touch) and as MY luck would have it drove into one of the biggest traffic cluster fucks of all time. People with BPD don’t do well with aggressiveness. In any form, and Baton Rouge drivers are the biggest road assholes on the whole god damn planet and I am their Queen. Queen of the Motor Assholes. The more aggressive other drivers became with me, the more I lost my shit! I mean seriously, I was going fucking beserk. I tried to run a semi-trucker AND two little old ladies off the road in less than half a mile. After two hours of inching along at a snails pace (I could have literally parked my car in the middle of the interstate and walked briskly home and I would’ve gotten home far more quickly than from sitting in that shit). By the time I made it home I was beside myself with rage. When I saw the house (remember I’m an OCD neat freak as well) and saw my fucking house in shambles from teenagers being home for the summer, I briefly contemplated murder but quickly realized that horizontal stripes make my fat ass like doubly wide AND neither black or white is on my color wheel.

Soooooo I did the only thing a raging mother fucker can do without being arrested……I went at my heavy bag in the garage (with my ex-husbands picture secured in a clear pocket I had so thoughtfully attached to it) until I puked. Just another day of 50 shades of CRAY in BR!!!

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16 Comments

    • Lol! Thanks for the compliment, honey!! Several of my faithful followers and I have become lifelong friends and every single one of them said they were drawn to my blog because NOTHING is sacred and/or off limits….that I just go ahead and say what most people think but have too much dignity and far too many social graces to actually say.
      I’ve always had a knack for saying the most shocking, inopportune things at the worst possible time. Finally around the time I hit forty, I decided to become unapologetically myself, screwed up situations, cuss words and all. So many people on social media these days try to make their lives look oh so perfect, their meals are perfect, their kids are perfect….it’s all a bunch of bullshit. No person or family is that perfect. As a matter of fact I’d loathe even being half as perfect as those same people try to make their lives seem. It would be a complete and utter bore in my humble opinion😊
      I’d much rather be happily, crazily myself with take out food, asshole teenagers and all.
      Chaos is my comfort zone and I wouldn’t have it any other way♥️

      Liked by 2 people

  1. I have no words. With respect to how crappy that day was and how hard it was for you I just have to laugh at the way you tell it.
    “Fuckchop?” Holy shit you made that one up! But it’s great

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Oh damn. We all need a Miss Gladys in our lives, cheering is on when someone needs to step up. I am darn near there, and I cuss out, flip off, and wish permanently wet flatulence on the other ball gargling cocksuckers on the roads. Put the fucking phone down, quit fiddling with the damned tablet/call list/map thing in the dash and fucking drive as if you are accountable for high velocity and 1800 lbs of metal and shit. I think I may need a punching bag….

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The picture on the heavy punching bag is a nice touch. If that truly is a picture of what you drove into I would have lost my shit too. I hope the teenagers were safe after you finished puking. The heat and humidity down there by itself is enough to make anyone cranky

    Liked by 1 person

    • It truly was a shit sandwich kind of day. I was glad to end the day last night but as luck would my luck would have it, I had terrible insomnia and didn’t sleep a wink.
      I’m quite the pleasure to be around today, let me tell you! Haha!

      Liked by 1 person

    • Lol, thanks my friend. If it hasn’t already been done, perhaps I should patent the idea. I’m a sharer…..then we’d all be rich instead of so damn good looking😊😊

      Liked by 1 person

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