"A Festivus for the rest of us!"

And so, as is traditional with Festivus...it is time for
THE AIRING OF GRIEVANCES...

Now - for those of you that don't know the history of Festivus, get off my blog. Or, in the spirit of the holiday, you could go here and read all about it. For some of you, this may be hard to take, because I'm going to publicly air my grievances with you. Suck it up, Sally - here we go.

First let's define grievance so we're all clear:
a wrong considered as grounds for complaint, or something believed to cause distress
Good? Good.

Eileen. This one is very near and dear to my heart, so I'm going to purge it first. Quite simply, you're a Diet Pepsi drinker. Now I realize that you have a lot of other extremely redeeming qualities, and so you are still my BBFF.

Jbrave. You complain too much about my blog being too long and "I don't have time to read it." P-shaw. You're not MAKING time to read it! Get on the train, sistah! Sometimes I'm longwinded (sometimes? Okay, a lot...but still!) ... but it's still worth the read. Well usually. Sometimes not. Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah, you must read the blog more regularly.

Tigger. You? You got yourself knocked up (okay, that didn't sound so good...I mean you are, after all, married and trying to conceive a wonderful spawn of love with the hubby)...but seriously? Just before the next "Keg Security" party??? Honestly...your redemption is that you will have this baby cooked by the time we'll want to be drinking on the porch. And while I'm at it...I'm airing the grievance of you being on maternity leave during the summer months while I'M AT WORK. Simply not cool. And the lurking? Has to stop.

Jimmer. Where the hell are you man? "My computer has a virus..." Wah. Wah wah wah. Blah blah blah wah-cakes. I mean, you were a GUEST BLOGGER and now...phhht. Nuthin. Get the shit fixed and get your ass out here. We miss your wit and ever so clever use of tags.

Sugar Snap Pea. Your general happiness is unnerving. You and your "I'm getting married" and your great deals on furniture. The nerve! And then to top it off you're all happy about not being in an office any more while the rest of us churn away like Dilbert want to kill "the pointy haired man." You know I love you, but I have to air this grievance. Phew! I'm feeling so much better!

Young Kathy. You're my work wife and you know I love you. BUT you're enabling of my bad behavior has to stop. I mean seriously, it's one addiction after another with you. First thai food...then Heavenly Ham...Rob Thomas...Ani DiFranco...OH YEAH - you totally got knocked up and burned me, too! There was that concert we were supposed to go to and be all militant and female...and then phhhhhht. Nuthin. Now there's Jamba Juice and ebay. You are single-handedly killing me.

Joy. This is a tough one...you are the mother of my best friend, so I find it difficult to yell at you. But I'm on a roll....so here goes...ummmmmm....huh...I got nuthin. So I guess THAT's my grievance. Yeah, I'm complaining that you give me nothing to complain about. so there.

Mega_joker. Two words. Spell check. Now I love you like you're my very own sister...wait, that's not a compliment. I love you like you're Julie's very own sister...but seriously?? Seriously. You are killing me.

My adorable loving husband, Kev-head. Your complaining about my use of swear words has to stop. I talk like a truck-driver. I blog like a truck-driver. I pick up lot lizards like a...wait...no I don't! Who am I kidding? But honey, I cuss. Get over it.

Carol. You live too far away and you're not coming for Christmas this year. I pout in your general direction.

Scottish. I have boobs. I talk about boobs. In general...boobs are a popular topic amongst most men and women...except you. You need to find your inner boob and learn to love to talk about it.

Lurkers of the world. Use your words!

Those who are not named. This means you're CLEARLY not commenting enough for me to have a grievance with you. Fix this immediately.

And so ends the airing of grievances. At least for me. Whaddya got? Bring it. I can take it.
And when that's done, we move on to the Feats of Strength, where the head of the house is wrestled to the floor and pinned. It's my blog. I'm the head of this nuthouse. Come and get me...if you dare....Bwah ha ha ha........