Has this ever happened to you?

There you are, minding your own business, when you feel a nasty, nasty fart coming on. Looking around, you see that no one is in your immediate vicinity and so, as discreetly as possible, you let it rip. Thinking that you’re getting off scot-free you leave ground zero and walk towards some fellow workmates you see standing around the water cooler. And it isn’t until you’ve joined the group and laughed at some inane joke made by your boss, or made a pass at the cute receptionist, that the stench of your gaseous doomsday device hits you and you realize that somehow your fart has followed you and soon everyone will collapse into a death-like coma knowing that you can destroy life at 10 paces.

How the hell does that work?!

I had plans.

This weekend I was going to go out with HoBiscuit and enjoy life. It was a beautiful weekend; perfect for walks in the park, early dinners and late night movies, but once again all my plans were laid to waste as the evil Allergy Monster slithered into my life and kicked me in the nutsack and knocked the fun right out of me.

Damn you Allergy Monster. Damn you to hell.

At first, tissues were my friends, but after several hours of constant blowing and wiping, my nose became so raw and bruised that the mere thought of using a soft tissue to blow my nose would make me cry. Medication was my second defense, but that too failed since all it did was make me sleepy and grouchy which in turn made HoBiscuit grouchy which made my life even more miserable than it already was.

So, to sum up; I fricking HATE allergies.

Someone sold me out.

I don’t know who it was, but someone out there who thinks they know me, who thinks they know what I want and need in my life, has sold my contact info to marketers who in turn have begun sending stuff to my home address. It’s so obvious that it was some internet store that sold my info and that these people don’t know the first thing about me that I can’t do anything but laugh when I receive their letters, postcards and pamphlets in the mail addressed to, “HoBiscuit & The Mighty Geek”.

Yeah, it really says that. I’m not kidding.

I mean, if an actual human being was double checking these mailings they might have realized that name was bogus and then they’d remove me from their mailing list because anyone with even a quarter of a brain would know better than to send their stuff to someone named The Mighty Geek. And HoBiscuit? Come on! What the heck were they thinking?

Stupid, stupid marketer. No cookie for you!

I hate flip-flops.

Especially on women at the workplace. Now, I know that many people, HoBiscuit included, absolutely adore their flip-flops and love wearing them every fricking day until it gets so cold that their toes turn to icicles, but for the life of me I can’t see why. I find them so uncomfortable and impractical that I’d rather walk barefoot over broken glass, rusty nails, salt and juiced lemons than wear flip-flops in public. I’d rather wear my own tongue on my feet and walk through the monkey cages at the zoo. I’d rather lose my toes, one by one over the course of several months, in horrific bear trap accidents and have to cauterize the wounds myself using nothing but some moose droppings and a faulty Zippo lighter.

I’d rather watch a full season of “My Awesome Sweet 16”.

Don’t get me wrong. I do understand that flip-flops have a place in society and that wearing them at the beach or on a really hot summer’s day can be both comfortable and practical. But it’s when the stupid things become your footwear of choice, when you own more pairs of flip-flops than there are days in a month, that I start losing my patience and begin looking for a book depository and an old rifle.

I’m not kidding.

Let me break it down for you. First, flip-flops aren’t comfortable. The stupid piece that sticks between your toes to hold the damn things on your feet is constantly rubbing, rubbing, rubbing the webbing between your toes and after only a few hours of use you’re almost guaranteed to have a nice, ripe blister when you take them off. And don’t even get me started on what happens should you trip on the street, or someone steps on your foot, or if you drop something heavy/sharp on your toes.

See? Just thinking about that made you wince.

Secondly, you can’t possibly run, fight or even move quickly while wearing the silly things. I mean, honestly. How are you supposed to play a nice game of football wearing flip-flops? Have you ever tried to ‘go long’ while wearing a pair? If you haven’t, don’t bother. It’s impossible. And heaven forbid you’re at the bank when a robber bursts in demanding money and you’re the only one who can stop him and save the day. Springing into action is very difficult to do when your footwear keeps falling off mid-step.

And there is truly no possible way to look dashing in flip-flops.

Now ladies, please don’t send me hate mail about how wonderful your flip-flops are and how comfortable you are while wearing them. I already know you like them because every single one of you reading this out there owns a pair or twenty. And I also know that you’ve all gone too fricking far with how much you adore them because this past weekend I actually saw a woman walking confidently down the street in a mother-fricking Armani business suit with a pair of cheap, plastic-and-rubber, dime store flips-flops on her perfectly manicured feet!

ARGH! Flip-flops drive me nuts!