Minor Meltdowns

Sometimes I get mad enough at inanimate objects that I yell at them like they actually have real life feelings and can understand my nonsense.

And I don't just mean a swift swear word in my head. I mean out loud like a six year old who can't watch any more Spongebob until he eats his string beans. It's quite ridiculous. And I'm quite sure my neighbors can hear me.

At least they can't see me going bat shit crazy ripping the hair out of my head...

While cross eyed mind you. Because that would just be real embarassing.

But these things are truly hair riping/scream out loud worthy.
For instance, yelling at the empty toilet paper roll sitting next to me after I run like a two year old to the bathroom who's hoping for a tootsie roll after successfully peeing in the potty.

Empty toilet paper rolls ruin lives. And leave you with too many options.
Do you do the wiggle and air dry?
Do you waddle with your undies around your ankles to the extra rolls in the closet?
Do you use your hand?

Kidding about that one. Totally kidding.

Or how about screaming bloody murder at my god-awful laptop charger cord that seems to be covered in vaseline the way it wiggles itself out of my god-awful Dell laptop that automatically turns off unless it's plugged into the wall therefor causing me to lose everything I'd been perviously working on.

A true "pretend to shoot yourself in the head" moment...

Obviously the cute scragly hair follows suit after almost ripping it out of my head.

Guess that's what I get for continuing to use the same laptop I received in 2007 as a High School graduation gift.
(The crap attack is old enough to not even have a camera in it to Skype or make Vlogs with.)
(Not that I'd do either of those things even if I did have a camera)

 And I guess that's what I'm going to stick to until Apple decides to sell products at a price lower than the cost of buying a brand new house.
P.S. where's my iPhone 5, Apple? Gimme. I peed in the potty successfully ya know, I deserve it.

Oh and then there's that time you want to drop kick murphy the edge of your coffee table every time you stumble home (at 3am with more than one Blue Moon in your belly) into your pitch dark living room (because you already cursed out the light bulb for blowing out earlier) and whack your shin to smithereens.

And of course cry out in pain with your hands in some sort of awkward butt grabbing pose...

Yup, my shins could easily compete with a two week old bruised banana.
And I'd win that gold medal.
And then I'd bite it. Because that's what all the cool kids did in London.

Or what about when you simply just can't hang up that slippery slimy dress on a crappy clothes hanger in your closet?

Like come on, that's one of the more easy tasks in life. Yet the darn thing acts like it actually is alive and the hanger had an affair on it with another less slippery dress and now slippery dress wants absolutely nuh-thing to do with that damn cheating hanger.
We sould call that hanger K-Stew.
And then snap it in half. Ahh  a brief moment of satisfaction.

Cheaters suck. But I don't seem to yell at those scream-worthy beings.
Just toilet paper rolls.
And computer chargers.
And coffee tables.
And clothes hangers.

Happy Twofer Tuesday, I'll take two twofers (that equals four if you're the type to scream at math problems) thanks.