My commute was hot as usual, because the air conditioning in my car didn’t work because my arms didn’t feel like rolling the windows down. So, of course, I was exhausted and didn’t want to do anything but park…myself on the couch. But then I was hungry, but there was no plan on the table about dinner. So I did what most people do when there is no plan and look in the frig for leftovers. So we pulled out yesterdays haul and started working that microwave like it was the Back to the Future Time Machine. In other words, it was going 88 miles per hour. Then leftovers got me thinking. I have all kinds of post ideas either in my drafts on written on sticky notes in my phone that never make it to air, because they are lame, or are too short, or aren’t quite bitter or funny enough to make the major leagues of bitterness. I think it is a shame not to annoy people on a constant basis, so even though I don’t have a full on bitter rant, doesn’t mean I can’t annoy you with the little things more often. So I decided to have a Leftovers “segment” in which whenever I feel like it, I will include short little bits of bitterness. A bitter version of a Saturday Night Live Short if you will(without being funny or meaningful in any way).
Today’s Segment – The noises you make in the morning
This morning I was going through my routine of looking horrible for work. Even though I try to be just loud enough to wake everyone up at 5 in the morning, the rest of the family still sleeps soundly right through it and that makes me bitter. But, I also realized that there are lot of the same sounds every morning. The alarm clock, the throwing of the covers off in disgust, the bitter sound of my pounding feet on the floor; the squeaky floor board I inevitably walk on. The spray of the shower turning on. The dropping of the shampoo. The yell of agony when the shampoo drops on my feet. The turning on and off of the faucet over and over. The buzz of my toothbrush. The swish of mouthwash and then the splatter of me spitting it out. The huccc huccc of my tiny hairbrush as it organizes the two or three hairs I still have left. The walk of bitterness across the floor towards the door, again hitting the squeaky floorboard. The sliding of the door that holds my keys, Ipod, and wallet. The buzz of my phone staring up. The ringing of my keys. The slamming of the door announcing that “I’m leaving, feel sorry for me!” and the inevitable peel out as I leave for yet another bitter day.
Are you…Flight of the Bumblee?…
I was thinking that all those noises I make start sounding like the soundtrack of my life. Are you a symphony or a Nickelback concert? Are you a Flight of the Bumblebees or Gwar? Let me know what kind of concert you leave in your wake when you get ready to leave your house. What solo artist, concert pianist, boy band, rock band, death metal band are you when you leave for the day? Let me know in the comments.
…or Gwar?
ARRRRRGGGGHHHH
Bitter Leftovers Again? Ben
Ben's Bitter Blog 
My mornings are like bouncy flutes if whimsy that turn into the best and most technical freeform jazz you have ever heard. I love mornings! I hate having to go bed.
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I not a fan of mornings, or night, or afternoons. I am a fan of being asleep.
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“my routine of looking horrible for work…the throwing of the covers off in disgust”—LOL. So true. So, so true. My soundtrack is just me sort of whine-sobbing at the fact that I am awake and have to do things. I guess it would be like a whale noises tape.
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My soundtrack would be a worst seller. It would be like Jim Carey’s most annoying sound in the world mixed with the sound of an alarm clock, but slower and never ending.
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ahahahaaaaahahah. Mine would be in the $.25 bin at a garage sale.
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People would get to my first track and would bury it in the earth with all those Atari ET cartridges in New Mexico.
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I’m definitely a Bartok concerto – all atonal, bitter minor keys, and many abrupt starts and stops. Look him up, listening will make the bitterness thermometer top out.
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Yes, I’m very familiar with that one. It’s the one where the music play notes, and there is that bridge, and sometimes the notes are flat and other times they are sharp and sometimes a C is played.
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Ah, a Slayer, angel of death. I was thinking a symphony for you. I guess I’m really bad at reading people.
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Oh yeah, that’s exactly what accompanies me in the morning. A frickin’ sympathy!!
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A sympathy no. I’ve got no sympathy.
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SYMPHONY!!!!!
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Symphony, sympathy. I’m just going by the way you spelled it. One I don’t have, one I don’t listen to.
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Hey, did you get some work done??
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Yep, I’m a cartoon now. Kind of why I did that post the other day. You know Michelle from Life As I know it? She did that for me.
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I do know Michelle! Well, that was nice of her. I hope you thanked her bitterly.
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Of course I bitterly thanked her. My mom always told me to do that. See what good that has done me.
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Yeah, loads!
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Just made me more bitter.
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Didn’t think it was possible.
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It’s always possible to make me more bitter.
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