Oh, are my pregnancy hormones making me irritable, Fucktard?

Well excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me!

This post is hereby subtitled "Jeff the arrhythmic drummer part 52."

Okay, so I'm sure I've mentioned how difficult it can be to get simple concepts across to Jeff, particularly when he's stoned. Last night, we had this conversation.

Me: [plays bass line]
Jeff: Hey hey hey. What's the rule?
Me: Is it 'tell the drummer what we're playing'?
Jeff: Yeah.
Me: Well kiss my ass, this is brand new, so just give me a beat.
Jeff: But I don't know this one.
Me: [still playing] I know. It's new. We're writing it right now.
Jeff: But I don't think I've ever heard this one.
Me: That's right. It's an original. It's new. We're writing it. You said you wanted to jam, so here we are, jamming.
Jeff: It's an original? By who?
Me: [under breath] Fuck.
Jeff: Is it one of ours?
Me: Yes!
Jeff: Have we done this one before? I don't recognize it.
Me: No, it's new. It's ours. It's a goddamn original -- that's what original means!

Deep sigh.

So even though we've sort of established that we won't bring other people to band practice, Jeff does it every other session or so, usually friends that I think he wants to impress with the knowledge that he's a real drummer, with a real band. Because they're often there on the pretense that they're doing something else (looking at the deck was last night's excuse), but then he'll encourage them to have a seat and listen to the band. Ugh. (And just in case this point has been lost, if he wants to impress people, drumming for them should be very low on the list of what to do. He is a sucky drummer.) So last night, Dewey or whoever is sitting listening to the band. We finish up, and Dewey and Jeff go in the kitchen and are talking as we pack up. I'm a fast packer, so I sit down on my amp for a minute. I hear Jeff and Dewey talking, and I hear "she's pregnant, so she's dealing with all those pregnancy hormones..."

Well. If I had been dealing with pregnancy hormones, I wouldn't have been able to pretend to ignore that. No, I'd have ripped his eyes out and skull-fucked him. But I ignore. He's an idiot, and not worth it.

But then as I'm leaving, he comes out to say goodbye, and gives me this speech, like "I won't see you again until after school has started, so have a good school year, and I hope something in your spirit touches those kids, and this is going to be a challenging time, blah blah..." In light of the pregnancy hormones, the clear subtext I hear is "I know you're feeling irritable, so don't take it out on the kids." Well FUCK YOU. I don't generally get irritated with the kids because they're not retarded* potheads! If they were as hard to get through to as you, I'd schedule a meeting with their parents. Furthermore, I like them better than I like you!

And since this post, I realize, sounds so incredibly irritable, I'm going to ask for confirmation -- the three people who are closest to me and spend the most time with me are Sweetie, Mom, and Monkeygirl. Would y'all please step up and tell the world that I have not been irritable?** If anything, I've been a little weepy and tired, but not cranky. I was cranky with cause last night. And that's not pregnancy hormones, that's pothead retards.

* I don't often use the word "retarded," because I realize how un-PC it is, and I would never use it in reference to someone who actually has special needs. In this case, think of it in the musical sense -- a retard in music is a slowing down, and Jeff, who is a retard in music, slows us down.

** I realize that if they post comments saying "no, she hasn't been irritable at all," all it proves is that they might be too scared of my irritability to piss me off. But seriously, I swear I've been in a good mood.