If y’all are sick of all my gratitude and happiness… Ew.
If you have to read one more post about my brilliant, hysterical children… Gag.
More matrimonial bliss… Puke.
Life is all about balance, so let’s bitch.
We’re runnin the heat in May. You know I don’t mind these temperatures, but it IS May. With the cool weather and the rain, I’m havin flashbacks to last May when it was too wet to till and the initial planting all washed out.
There was a municipal car parked on my street for about 30 minutes the other day. When I left, I overheard one of my neighbors talkin to the driver — and it was about the height of grasses! Well! I’ll have you know, our grass was the shortest on the block as The Mister had just cut it the night before in what turned out to be a few dry hours. But it is not right to ticket lawns when it had stormed for four days and there wasn’t a sunny day in sight. That’s just playin dirty. People still hadn’t even cleaned up the debris, let alone mowed. The only reason The Mister had done ours was because his riding lawn mower had arrived and he wanted to drive it all over. He might have done that in a lightnin storm, you know how men do.
The other day I had to turn around because the HIGH WATER sign was floating. Ducks swam around trees.
All this unholy rain means Broad Ripple has been flooded. I should be more concerned about property damage for those who live there, but really, I’m just pissy because my Target is over there, and my Target is where the goat cheese pizza is, and I could not safely travel to my goat cheese pizza, and we ate the last one Wednesday, and when I finally went there Saturday, they were SOLD OUT. FML.
Don’t you dare laugh at how I stock up. I went a few weeks without stockin up and look what happened!!!
Stop eating the goat cheese pizza! Target sells that for ME. Y’all need to stick to your meat crap.
Speaking of meat crap, I recently devoured a ten ounce prime rib like it was my job. I hadn’t done that since I carried Sassy. I worried briefly over whether I’d gotten pregnant, but it turns out I needed to store up iron for another installment of reverse puberty exsanguination. I literally do not understand how I am still alive. I am a miracle.
I wore Spanx tights over the weekend. Do Not Recommend.
I have other Spanx items because every now and again, I like to spend ten minutes doing the self-loathing interpretive dance of women who eat too much ice cream but still deserve to look good in white pants or a jersey knit dress cut on the bias. Those tights, though… My ovaries held their breath. I didn’t need the tension, I only bought them because they were on sale a dollar cheaper than my regular brand and they were reversible — navy on one side, black on the other. What a practical, thrifty gal, hm?
Over the course of the evening, the tights slowly rolled down to low rise, and let’s just say it was good I wore a peasant dress. My navel was cold anyway; I’da been better off with some knee-high socks.
I bought the right size. I’m a D. D is like, “You cute, but too short and chubby to get a better grade.” And now itty bitty Moomy has a new pair of reversible tights. Long may her ovaries breathe.
I got sunburn in the part of my hair. You have never really lived until your head is sore for unknown reasons. Clearly this is fatal. Prolly a brain lesion. Losin yer hairs to a disease that will be named after you. Damn sunshine. Damn anxiety disorder.
Fear almost as bad as when your kid hits her head on a lead pipe in the laundry room and you hafta watch her like a hawk, so you can’t sleep and creep in to check her breathing
and poke her face while she sleeps. Damn motherhood. Damn anxiety disorder.
My lip is lookin normalish and havin one red spot on it which apparently only I can see, but it hasn’t stopped tingling. It’s dying to break back out and ooze, I can feel it. I continue to balm the fuck out of it and pop Lysine like a junkie.
Spent about ten minutes last night havin a panic over the other side of my lip. I was dying of the thought that the herpes had spread before remembering — It’s a fuckin papercut. Damn envelopes. Damn anxiety disorder.
It’s raining again. Thunderstorms are due at rush hour.
How’s your Tuesday? Got a buncha stuff to bitch about?