It’s no secret that RGB passed away last night. Over the course of the day I have, as a result, nuked two friendships and I’m not currently on speaking terms with my uncle.
Things I’ve heard over the course of the day:
“I hope she burns in hell. She killed 30 million babies.”
“I hope that she repented in the days before her death and atoned for her role in the death of so many innocents so she can spend eternity in heaven with Jesus.”
“I’m so glad she’s dead, now we can get a Republican in her place that will teach women and non-Christians their place.”
“Thank God she’s dead.”
“I don’t know why women look up to her. It’s not like she did anything special.”
“When did you come such a radical feminazi libtard?”
I’m sorry, what? I told one “friend” (kid I used to work with) to go to hell and then I unfriended him, told another good friend to shove it up his ass and then promptly blocked him, and hung up on my uncle twice. (And did people not realize that the woman was JEWISH!?)
How the hell has the country come to this? Has it always been there, just simmering under the surface, and the influence of the Cheeto in Charge has just brought it all to the surface? The worst part is – I knew all of these men were conservatives and Christians, I just didn’t realize that they actually thought these things.
So you know what? I’m done. They’re totally cut out, along with a few others on Facebook that I was “friends” with, but not really friends with. I’m fucking done with this bullshit.
In other news, I’m never sending my husband shopping or to Sam’s Club unattended ever, ever, again. I gave him a very specific list which we discussed last night. Yeah. Total deviation from the list. We’re on a damn budget, here! And he got the wrong vape juice. I’m highly irritated. Especially because now I’ve got to figure out how to go the next week on almost $100 less than I had anticipated. Can’t take anything from his account though – he’s currently got a long commute and needs the extra cash for gas money and tolls and whatnot. And then (and then!) when I got home he was so proud of himself because he “cleaned up and got a bunch of stuff done.” Bro. Literally everything (including the empty beer cans!) is in the same, exact place that it was this morning. So now, instead of being able to maybe relax a little when I got home, I’m now cleaning up the living room and dealing with the dishwasher and scooping the litter boxes and making sure the cats get fed. I’m so irritated it’s not even funny. I’m sitting here trying to figure out how best to dispose of his body.
I’m kidding. Mostly. He tried. He tried to help me out. And I’m trying to be appreciative of what he did, but it’s so hard when once again, I don’t get to relax because I still have to shower, dry my hair, and be in bed early because I have to be at work super early in the morning.
Deep, calming breaths are clearly the name of the game tonight. I don’t think I have too high of standards.
I’m so irritated right now. Time to clean, I guess.