What can I say. Only two measly, last kid to be picked for teams, scrawny posts this weeks. For SHAME, for utter and complete despair and total gloom and dourness.
In a reality check moment– my life is actually not that funny all the time, and while my internal voice has been yacking non-fucking-stop about things we think are funny, it hasn’t been translating well. To be fair there were a couple of post attempts…
Failed Titles Include:
Harvesting Organs is a Great Way to Make Money for Shoes
I May be Addicted to Violence
My Kid Needs a Prozac
I’m Most Likely Going to Suffocate My Husband With A Pillow
DHL Ruined My Bob Damn Life
Mother-in-Laws Make Life Cringe Worthy
When I Grow Up I’m Going to Try to Be Nice
So you see, I really was thinking about, and half starting to write some great posts. But they just weren’t coming together. They would start funny and end really tragically. In the midst of rolling around in pure mirth and enjoyment there would be a total downer of a moment. Like the time I turned in an essay in Zoology about nothing in particular and wrote “and then the dog got hit by a bus, his innards were smeared across the road and bits and pieces of him scattered everywhere and stuck to everything causing most bystanders to be traumatized for life,” and still got an “A” on it (experiment to see if my teacher was actually reading the papers we turned in–> apparently not). Just sort of “oh, you’re so not funny, and that was awkward and inappropriate” moments instead of my casual wit and frothy banter. Not that this is really any better, but at least it’s not sooo painful to read, right……. RIGHT.
So in lieu of a life altering post on why “The CryBaby has a Better Backhand Than I Do,” perhaps just a quick catch up is in order. You know, in case you were actually wondering what I do all week, in between not posting….
DHL ruined my BOB DAMN Life all last week and it carried into this week. Sensitive work materials had to be shipped from the US to Europe. Not only did they re-route the package to the WRONG DESTINATION, when it got there instead of holding it for pick-up (as confirmed by numerous calls and emails), they simply sent it BACK to US office. FUCK YOU DHL, and your mind games. Our relationship is SOOOOO OVER. Anyway, after much wailing, weeping, shouting and threats, said package did get to the right person in the right country, eventually….
I had a fight with the phubster. It was over something inconsequential like why I can’t get on a full on tummy tuck, boob lift, and skin rejuvenation treatment package right now (<– that's not what our fight was about actually, it was just up there in the "what the fuck are we fighting about this shit for" category), but it was a total MOOD RUINER (oh fancy that, another word to add to the lexicon). Mostly because we like to fight over the phone. We get pretty hot and heavy with severe finger jabbing at the screen and exaggerated taps to "the end button" to hang up. It's ok though because once the red mist receded from my eyes and the brain thing started thinking logically again I realized that FUCKING SHIT, that BASTARD is RIGHT AGAIN. GAH. So, the fight passed.
Little Monster–> It’s a hit or miss with the sleep walking. Nights she doesn’t walk she talks A LOT, a WHOLE LOT in her sleep about random/disturbing things. I’ve been collecting said items for show and tell…
“I don’t want to share. Go play with the fire.”
“Stop it. Stop it! You’re making me breathe, and I don’t like it.”
“I told you, no more dinosaur soup. It tastes bad.”
“My mommy says you’re not supposed to say bad words like shit, or damn.”
“Santa sees you all the time, even when you’re being bad or going to the bathroom.“
I know right, WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT. THE. FUCK. None of it makes sense really. She seems perfectly fine and adjusted during the day… but these night time ramblings have me locking up the matches, not cooking soup, making sure all dinosaurs are safe, watching my mouth, explaining how we need to breathe and instilling the fact that Santa doesn’t see you when you’re in the bathroom….
I also hit a pretty good sale at Ralph’s. No coupons. I am over coupons. But the sale didn’t require any so I was in the clear.
So you see, my week has been pretty eventful… really.
I also may be dying from walking pneumonia, but that’s a whole other can of worms. I might even have to go to the doctor and take medicine. But only if someone is going to buy me an ice cream after….
So that’s it Snarksters, the wrap up. Not the pee yourself funny you were expecting, but hey! Sometimes I’m just regular old me, Becca. (See that, see that VampireS, GAH).
How was your week, sum it up, wrap it up, and let it go……and if you happen to find my funny bone while you’re out and about, can you send it back to me–> just don’t use DHL. They will fuck you up.