Attitude: Adjusted. Also I Might Still Be Buzzed.

After the shit-fit I threw over things of zero significance, it was abundantly clear that I needed – nay, deserved – our little getaway to drink wine and eat good food and drink more wine with a cheese chaser.  And let me tell you: I feel much better now.  Pretty sure Ed also feels better now that his wife is no longer a tightly wound ball of fire-breathing stress but you’d have to ask him.

(I’m also not sure what it says about me that while we were enjoying lunch at a winery a man sat down at our table and within seconds I realized it was an old friend I hadn’t seen in probably close to 10 years and I practically jumped into his lap and shrieked like Lucille Bluth when she recognizes Gene Parmesan and Ed just kept on eating like, “Eh, yeah, my wife is hugging some dude in a bar.  Whatevs.”  Or maybe I do know what that says about me and just don’t give a shit.)

I know it sounds like life is so awful that I need to escape our home and drown myself in booze in order to decompress or enjoy myself, but that’s honestly not the case.  There’s just something about uninterrupted time and nowhere to be and good food and no nagging feeling of “I should do some laundry now” or “Maybe we should hit the grocery store.”  Just some straight-up fun and shirking of responsibilities.  We earned it, yo!

Also, we were not only asked if we have kids, but if we are planning to have kids no less than three times in two days so you’re goddamn right I’ll have another glass of wine thank you very much.  I never really know how to answer that, you know?  I usually end up sputtering something like, “Uh, sure, YES we’d like that very much!” like we were offered an extra complimentary dessert.  And then I worry about conveying the appropriate level of enthusiasm, like if I’m too eager they’ll think I’m some baby-hungry lady from a Lifetime movie who snatches babies from hospitals, but if I’m not eager enough I won’t be a good mom and OH SWEET JESUS JUST PASS ME MORE WINE.

In totally unrelated news, today I talked to a guy who told me his last name is “Albert.  You know, as in ‘Fat”” and now I think he may be my new best friend.

Oh, You Know, Just Spreading Sunshine and Shit

Things That Have Filled Me with White-Hot Rage This Week:

• Motherfucking bug bites all over my feet and legs.  We sat outside last Friday to enjoy our yard and some wine and oh, isn’t this so lovely and romantic OHMYGODMYLEGSAREONFIREHELPMENOOOOOWWW.  The itchiness turned to straight-up PAIN and after some crowd sourcing for some relief in the form of drugs, voodoo, whatever I think my magical combination of Benadryl and aloe vera has helped with the itchy-burning feeling (sexay!) but my legs still look like a horrible connect-the-dots game (super-sexay!).
• I am convinced that the Jergens Natural Glow I had been applying religiously is basically mosquito food, so I have had to abandon Operation: Don’t Be So Fucking Pasty. Pale, bite-covered legs really bode well for my plan to rock a mini dress and be all cute and elegant like I’m Jackie O or Kate Middleton when we leave town.  Fuck it.  I’m wearing yoga pants this weekend.
• NBC cancelled Best Friends Forever and Cougar Town hasn’t been on because of Dancing with the Stars and this is all unacceptable bullshit.  BULLSHIT I SAY!
• I somehow managed to rip the back of my favorite black work pants (and no, I have not gained weight but this didn’t do great things for the ol’ self confidence) and was left wondering a.) when did this happen and how many people saw my butt? and b.) what the HELL am I supposed to wear to work at least three days out of the week?  I’m happy the tear was on the seam, but not really looking forward to that trip to my tailor. 

I am, however, buoyed by the knowledge that there are 30 bottles of wine fermenting in my kitchen and it already tastes pretty good so things have got to get better from here, right?

And I Only Know Chris Pine Because I Love Star Trek So Much

Today I ate lunch at my desk and – like the genius I am – didn’t make sure I had a napkin or any common sense and proceeded to get hot sauce all over my keyboard.  My lame attempt to clean up the mess was the stuff of shitty romantic comedies as I grabbed useless tissues to smear it all over everything like the Adorably Klutzy Protagonist Who Works in Advertising or Maybe Publishing until realizing “Uh, perhaps the canned air used to clean keyboards would be more effective here.” 

This was not the most embarrassing thing that happened to me today.

Unlike the Unfortunate Sauce Incident (dibs on that band name!), which occurred with zero witnesses, I managed to make a dick of myself in front of the only co-worker I like.  The worst part?  I thought I was brilliant.

Me: “You know what I recently figured out?  Chris Evans, Channing Tatum, Liam Hemsworth, and Chris Hemsworth are four different people.”

Her: <Hysterical Laughter>  “Are you KIDDING me?  They don’t even look alike!”

Me: “They’re all just so generic and unremarkable to me.  And I figured Chris and Liam Hemsworth were the same guy who used two different names, which seemed pretentious as shit but whatever.  And don’t they all kind of play the same roles?  Action movie or love interest in a Nicholas Sparks novel come to life?”

Her: “OK, I can see that.  Good point.  And I think that Liam Hemsworth is kind of famous for dating Miley Cyrus?”

Me: “Which would be a reason for me to block any details about him from my mind because I cannot stand her or her face.”

Her: <Wiping tears from eyes from laughing so hard at my idiocy> “Oh man, I needed a good laugh.  Thanks for that.”

Me: “Do I get any credit for knowing that Chris Pine is not one of those guys?”

Her: <Smiles Kindly> “Sure you do.”

The First One is in Reference to a Rooster, You Pervert

Is there anything more annoying than thinking it’s Thursday when really it’s Wednesday?  Probably.  But that’s not stopping me from being weirdly pissed at myself for not being able to read a fucking calendar.

Nothing of huge note going on currently, so you’re getting one of my famous, patented,* cobbled-together posts.  Enjoy!

• This morning my mom and I exchanged seven emails and possibly set a record for use of the word “cock” in one day, if not in one continuous thread.  I love that my mom isn’t easily ruffled by cussing, but I wonder if every mom looks at her little girl and thinks, “One day, we’re going to jokingly use the word ‘cock’ and it’s going to be hillaaaaarrrious.”
• Speaking of my mom, we had a delightful Mother’s Day weekend that included the traditional stuff (brunch, flowers) and the non-traditional stuff (roller derby).  She decided to go for the all-you-can-drink champagne with her brunch, which is shocking because she’s not much of a drinker and this place refills your glass every 2 seconds or upon each sip, whichever comes first.  Basically: you will be super drunk by 10am if you aren’t careful.  Anyway, after awhile, my mom said something unintentionally dirty and seeing my raised eyebrows looked at me and said, “That’s what YOUR MOM said!”  I’m calling it now: best Mother’s Day ever.
• You’ll notice I added a “subscribe to my blog here” button at the top of my homepage, as a way to make it easier to have my stories of dunken stupidity words of wisdom and humor delivered directly to your inbox.  I mean, it’s not mandatory, but I’m all about laziness so you can see why this would appeal to someone like me. 
• We have booked a little getaway for Memorial Weekend and I could not be more excited.  It’s nothing crazy-extravagant by any means but the thrill of packing mini bottles of shampoo and planning outfits and writing a packing list (yes, for one night shut up) is in full force.  I am also slathering myself in Jergens Natural Glow to help take some of the glare off of my painfully pale limbs so I can wear a sundress as I sip wine on a patio without fear of blinding other people.  It’s called being selfless, y’all.  Look it up.  We both admittedly tend to fall into a we-should-spend-every-waking-moment-with-family trap, which can spiral out of control quickly, as we discovered last year upon looking at our calendar and realizing we had not spent a weekend alone in over two months.  I was feeling slightly guilty over not spending the weekend with some branch of the family tree (or better yet: driving all over the state so we can see everyone in the interest of fairness and also making me want to die), but I figure if we blow off everyone then no one’s happy and if we’re shooting for fairness then I think we nailed it. 

 

Have a happy Wednesday (or whatever the hell day it is – obviously I can’t be trusted to know for sure) and may the rest of the week be filled with references to cocks.  AS IN ROOSTERS.  Oh my God you guys, you’re so gross!

 

 

*These are not patented at all.

Reunited and It Feels So Good

Last weekend got off to a rather inauspicious start when I tripped over my suitcase and fell into it, resulting in some nasty scrapes and a bruise.

“Well that settles it: I’m definitely wearing pants to this thing” I announced to Ed.

This Thing was my 20 year school reunion.  Elementary school/junior high reunion to be exact.  Every time I’ve told people what I was going to the reaction has been either “Why would you want to celebrate THOSE awkward years?” or “Who the hell plans that kind of thing?”  People who fully embrace the awkwardness and fucking love it, THAT’S WHO.  It was like my childhood, Facebook feed, and earliest memories collided into one bar and I kicked myself for thinking about ditching earlier in the week.  Oh Social Anxiety!  You are such a mercurial little whore, aren’t you?  Knowing I would see Lili – who flew up from San Diego and would strangle me if I didn’t show – calmed my nerves and reminded me that I was home.  Plus, she handed me a glass of wine and we put on our makeup and got ready together.  Like we were on our way to a dance in 8th grade.  Minus the wine, of course.  Back then it was strictly tequila.

Within seconds of arrival I was having the time of my life.  Over the course of several hours I danced (poorly), reminisced, drank my weight in wine, laughed so hard my stomach hurt, confirmed that I am really only funny in writing/on the Interweb, had wine spilled on me, screamed (see mentions of “wine”), tried to coerce people into moving up here/visiting so we could DO THIS ALL THE TIME OMG IT WOULD BE SOOOO FUUUUNNNN, lost part of a toenail in a tragic dancing incident, got uncharacteristically teary while watching a video our 8th grade teacher made, introduced my husband to people who – cheesy as it may sound – were a huge part of my childhood and who I am, and told myself “Don’t you ever think about missing out on these things again, you idiot.”

I mean, what’s the point of being an idiot if you aren’t going to do the running man in front of a group of people?