Things That Are Painful To Do (By Elyse)

22 Feb

So after sharing Elyse’s rant, I could tell you were feelin’ her…as it was reposted on Facebook over a hundred times in a matter of like 3 hours. I was pretty pumped that she wrote another for me this evening, and I wanted to share it with you before I pour myself a draft sized glass of wine. And without further adieu…

Things That Are Painful To Do

By Elyse

There are certain things that you have to do that suck. All the fucking time. We do these things everyday. Everyone has them and their nuances.. but here are mine. Fair warning this blog entry is most suitable for da ladies.

Scraping my car off: I really can say I do a half ass job of this 90% of the time. Which probably isn’t a good thing since I just started driving at the age of 23 and visibility is crucial to being a good driver. But hey, its 7am I am going to work and IDGAF that my passenger side or back windows are covered in ice. It will melt (probably by the time I get to work).

(For the ladies) Getting ready: Getting ready sucks to do know matter where you are going. Shower, shave, deodorant, perfume, make up, blow dry, straighten/curl/style hair, shoes, accessories. There are two things in particular in this category that make me homicidal – #1. Mascara: I am already shaky as fuck as it is so this is comparable to the T-Rex making a bed meme. On top of it, the lashes are never fucking straight or they’re stuck together. By the end of it I wonder why I don’t just fucking rip em out and glue fake ones on. #2. Choosing an outfit. I am going to try on a million fucking things because I am fat, or its too summery, or its not right for the occasion, or I don’t match my girlfriends…continue on with a million other bullshit reasons. After about an hour of this a huge pile of clothes accumulates throughout my house (because clearly I can’t fold/hang them back up when I am rapid fire changing). I have a nasty bitch attitude and its everyone else’s fault I can’t find that fucking strapless bra or blue shirt. Inevitably I end up wearing the first thing I try on. I have a philosophy on this now which I preach to my sisters/girlfrans “you are going out to get whitegirl wasted and no one is ever going to remember what the fuck you wore anyways”. But we all still go on living life like we are hitting the fucking red carpet (in this case the red carpet is a strip of bars in Q Center).

Pumping gas: This is a tricky one because the only time I don’t mind it is when I don’t need it. But we all know when we have shit going on and “like I should of been at the bar 20mins ago” but I have to stop and get fucking gas!!!!!!!!!!! It doesn’t help that prices keep going up and I feel like I am being robbed fucking blind by a goddamn gas pump. I have a personal vendetta against an inanimate object because that is how rational I am at this point.

Taxes: You fucking take em out automatically why don’t you give em back automatically.

Cooking: I love cooking. I watch food network all the reg but there are just sometimes where I don’t want to cook. At all. Ever. For like a week or maybe two. But I have to cook because I have to eat and I am hungry. My boyfriend was at school when I got out of work the other night and I was so dreading cooking that I sat on my couch staring at my kitchen. Staring as if a fucking 5 course meal is going to miraculously appear on the counter. I believe this is a mirage of the lazy fat fuck variety. Oh, and don’t even get me started on doing the dishes after. I know you’re thinking, “Really? That lazy? Throw that shit in the dishwasher!” .. oh no my friend, these pans are nonstick they must be hand washed or GASP they will lose their nonstick quality. Hand washing dishes is for the birds.

Working out: I do understand why people love working out. It feels great after and it is good for you. However, the second I hit a treadmill or elliptical the only thought going through my mind is “how much longer?”. This could be comparable to the road trip “are we there yet?”. I am staring so hard at the timer working out I could burn a fucking hole straight through the machine. Then I switch tactics – maybe if I cover the timer it will go by faster. That doesn’t last long because of course I have to peek at the timer once I feel I had exerted enough self control and enough time has passed. Then I realize its been 3 fucking minutes. Someday I hope I am one of those fucking freaks who works out for the fun of it.

Dry Cleaning: Fuck that shit.. I am throwing it in the wash because IDGAF!! And crossing my fingers my sweater doesn’t come out the size of a baby tee. The only things worth of dry cleaning are: Winter Jackets, Suits, Military Uniforms, Formal Wear.. and that’s all I can think of.

Bikini Wax: Literally Chinese torture and I am paying for it. “Take some advil an hour before” …???????? NO! I need a shot of morphine.

Putting on nylons: Let me start by letting you know I pulled my fucking back out the other morning doing this. You would think I am disarming a bomb I am so concentrated on not getting a run when I put on nylons. I swear a bead of stress sweat is running down my forehead and the fate of the world rests on my shoulders. Then when I have to pee and pull them back up I look like a fucking wavy wacky inflatable tube man maneuvering them back on. All that, just to take a piss.

To Summarize: Have you ever worn something that is way to small for you and it is so uncomfortable it takes a conscious effort not to tear out of it like the fucking hulk. That is the exact feeling I have when I do these tasks.

(Note from Molly: I just wanted to add to the getting ready bit that the absolute WORST part of getting ready besides the self loathing while I scream at my double chin in the mirror, is straightening my hair. Usually when I am getting ready, I am also drinking, which gets my body temperature up as is. Once I turn that straightener up as high as it’ll go, and it’s running through my damaged split ends, I burn up. Sometimes I have to walk away from the straightening to stick my head in the freezer. And when I am this hot, I get bitchy FAST. Ryan walks into the room and is like “Smells like dead hair in here.” and I’m like “DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” in an Emily Rose post possession voice. Yeah, straightening my hair fucking blows. Also, the nylon thing, totally agree with Elyse. I always buy two pairs of nylons in case of a rip, and one time before a wedding I tore both pairs. My sister laughed at me after the second tear and it’s the only time I’ve ever contemplated suicide. It’s always the small things in life that make me contemplate suicide, I guess.)



4 Responses to “Things That Are Painful To Do (By Elyse)”

  1. Anna February 22, 2013 at 2:33 am #

    Hello just letting you know that I don’t need anymore the information on my email from the Doll Molly! So you don’t have to send it to me! Thank you

    Enviado desde mi iPhone

    El 21/02/2013, a las 07:27 p.m., Because Molly Said So escribió:

    > >

    • Molly February 22, 2013 at 2:35 am #

      You will have to unsubscribe for the emails to stop. If you subscribe the emails are sent automatically. Sorry!

  2. kb February 22, 2013 at 2:54 am #

    I think elyse is my long list sister from another mister. Glad I’m not the only girl who thinks this exact same way

  3. Joni February 22, 2013 at 2:59 pm #

    Can TOTALLY relate to the ‘clothing too small and wanting to rip it off like the Hulk’ – Oh yeah, I know that absolute rage feeling! Thanks for cheering me up; I needed that.

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