I went to dinner last night with one of my best gals. I’ve been out of the house a few times to run errands and see family and the like but I hadn’t been out out, you know, since before I got pregnant. So we were like let’s get food and one adult beverage each because we are both responsible adults and one of us is in charge of a small human and the other one is in charge of an entire department in a hospital plus two cats so let’s just be cool about this.
One beer after not drinking for 10 months and zero sleep will give you the munchies and the giggles. And turn you into a Chatty Cathy. And make you short laugh so that you choke on your red velvet whoppie pie because you’re laughing at your own jokes. Then you start talking shit about a girl wearing stilettos and an ace bandage on her foot and hooker makeup and you make comments about the guy she is all but fucking in the booth across from you is just trying to get some crotch. Loudly. For no reason. All while in maternity clothes. Still.
In which I feel I have been initiated into the Motherhood fold
While changing Declan’s epically disgusting diaper he felt the need to keep going. Which is fine by me. Who am I to tell my son when he is finished? So I frantically pull a clean diaper under him and wait. I look up at his sweet face and wonder why he is sweating. Oh no, just kidding, I think my ceiling must be leaking because theres something sprinkling on his….oh my god he’s pissing on his face! My motherly instinct is to wipe his face with the cloth in my hand- only said cloth was covered in poo from my previous attempt to clean him up. So now my kid is officially covered in piss and shit and its my fault.
I just made a Monday cocktail because fuck bitches get money, etc, and so forth.
I’m kidding, I made a cocktail to celebrate the THIRTY days I have left until I’m sitting on NONIE’S couch, drinking a cocktail, and saying fuck bitches get money (and by that I mean watching Jeopardy with my grandmother while she feeds me everything because I’m fat yet look “svelt”)
I’ve put on giant hot pink sweatpants, sprayed Febreeze on my person as if it were body spray, threw the humidity wretched mess I call hair on top of my head, and I’m throwing back a glass of wine waiting for my friends to get here.
And I just realized taking one cold, hard look at myself in my giant purple slippers and tank that you can see my floral brassier through, that if I was fucking single, I would date me. Hell, you would too.
“You know what’s sad about reading books? It’s that you fall in love with the characters. They grow on you. And as you read, you start to feel what they feel - all of them - you become them. And when you’re done, you’re never the same. Sure you’re still you, you look the same, talk in the same manner, but something in you has changed. Something in the way you think, the way you choose, sometimes, even the things you say may differ. But it all comes down to the state you go to after a nice novel. The after-feeling. It’s amazing, but somehow, you feel left alone by that world you were once in. It’s overwhelming. But it makes you sad. Cause for once you were this, this otherworldly being in… Neverwhere, and then you suddenly have to say goodbye after a few weeks from when you read the last page. When you’ve recovered from that state it’s just… quite sad.”—
Trying to plan a trip home for one weekend and realizing you’ve really put one hell of a dent in your savings being unemployed for almost a year…..opposite of priceless. Very, very pricey. If you will.
HELLO WORLD I HAVE MISSED YOU. GRAB A BEER. WELCOME TO THE UPDATE
Work is EXCELLENT, except, I have no time for anything aside from sleep, sometimes feeding myself, and gossiping with my coworkers
I….I haven’t been drinking?
That’s a lie. I haven’t been drinking on WEEKNIGHTS. I made you nervous, didn’t I? I’m sorry.
Lilly is still alive! And comes with more adorable outfits than ever before!
We’ve consolidated our debt so we can buy a house! That sound you heard was me vomiting at the thought of adult stuff.
But…the lap top is semi broken so I’m shoved next to the wall typing this….it only works plugged in :(
Wait, why am I an adult?
Almost my bed time….
Why did I cry when I read the Hunger Games in THREE DAYS?
Because I’m an asshole, clearly.
Have people died? Was there some sort of sporting event Madonna was involved in? She isn’t a linebacker? I don’t get it.
Out of touch with the world doesn’t even begin to cover it.
WHAT IS NEW WITH YOU PEOPLE?
Ok I should go to bed, I have a big day of lots of stuff tomorrow.
Which by lots of stuff I mean a 9.5 hour work day and then happy hour/karaoke with my broads because there’s nothing like ending a 50 hour work week with me screeching Love Is A Battlefield amplified…..
And then I plan to watch Vampire Diaries all weekend and obsess over chiseled abdominal muscles.
DO YOU MISS ME?!?!
I missed YOU!
And this whole thing just made me feel more sad and pathetic than I did twenty minutes ago. I wish I had something awesome to report, but alas, I’m still that same ole’ G.
Or any other friends, really. We’re having a Gasparilla Party so if you want to come and say wassup or just have some pirate brews with us gimme a shout out and I’ll give you my address and we’ll do this damn thing, ok?