Are you ready to have your mind-nugget blown? What I am about to admit may shock the living hell out of (some of) you. Go grab a box of tissues now, because this is very disheartening.
There have been rumors and speculation that I may not be of this planet…
Well, I’m here today to tell you that, I, am in fact, a human.
A purebred, if you will.
A living, breathing, eating, drinking, pooping machine that is thoroughly annoyed with my family right now.
Now, normally, I’m a “glass half full” kind of person. I could stub my toe, and in the process of leaning down to grab it, smack myself in the eye on the corner of the counter, then stand up and bang my head on the cupboard, and I’d just laugh it off, saying something like: “I really could have found a better way to try to get disability benefits. This isn’t going to get me shit! I can still see for fuck’s sake!”
I’m pretty sure that side of me stayed in bed, snuggled up with the dog, dreaming about doing dirty things with Mike Rowe.
God, I wish I was still in bed with the “glass half full” part of me. I’ll bet she’s all kinds of cozy right now…
“They” say that it’s the little things in life that matter, right?
It’s the little things that make a difference.
It’s the little things that drive us nucking futs.
All of the little, teeny, tiny, itty, bitty things.
Any other day, I’d be looking at all of the annoying things that have happened today and say something like: “Silly kids. Why would they put the Kool-Aid container back in the fridge almost empty?”, and then just make some more.
But not today…
Normally, I would look at these tiny frozen 2 x 3.5 inch blocks of frozen hamburger and laugh.
Tonight, I couldn’t…
Then I would look at the dog and say: “Dozer, scoot over”, and he would move so I could get into the pantry to finish cooking dinner.
Instead, he laid there like he was the King of the castle, and I was inconveniencing him by even breathing the same air…USUALLY, I would go pee, look at the empty tube on the roller, and then at the half used roll on the counter, and say, “Now, why in the world did nobody put this on the thingy yet?”
But not today.
I feel like I have what most women refer to as PMS.
But, you see, I’ve never had a problem with that before.
Yeah, whatever. Hate me because I’m a freak of nature. If it makes you feel any better, I get cramps that feel like there’s an alien trying to make it’s way out of my ovaries with a cane & a top hat singing “Hello my baby, Hello my darling, Hello my rag-time gaaaaaal…”, and it’s dumb.
It’s like I woke up with all the raging, psychotic hormones of a woman that’s 8 months pregnant! Everyone is annoying right now. Everything they say, or do, just makes me want to slap them. ALL of them!
“How was your day, hun?” fwap!
“Mom, can I have some cookies?” bap!
“Check out this video of a midget rodeo clown riding a unicycle with a monkey on it’s back while they eat ice cream sandwiches and juggle chainsaws!” junk punch!
“I can’t take this anymore!”, I thought. “If one more stupid thing happens today, I’m going to kill my family. I’m going to stab them, and punch them, and stab them some more. Then I’m going to chop them up into itty bitty pieces and feed them to Dozer, and the turkeys in Gary’s yard. Or at the very least, I’m going to sell them all to the Gypsies.”
“No good can come of this.”, I told myself.
I had to calm down. I needed to escape for just one fucking minute!
I tried breathing. I tried counting. I tried jumping jacks. I ran in place. I even did a few sit-ups, which just made me even more mad because sit-ups annoy the crap out of me! (Not literally though. That would be gross.)
I tried hiding in the downstairs closet with my laptop and a flashlight, but Stinkerbell (that’s what I call the 3yr old) found me. “Silly Mommy! What are you doing in the closet? Can I hide too?”
“VODKA! I have vodka!”, I yelled, as I rushed past her toward the kitchen. She (of course) followed me, asking what “bot-ka” is.
“It’s Mommy juice. Hopefully we have just enough left in the cupboard to snap Mommy out of this little funk before she goes to jail.”
“Can I go to jail too? I can be your helper! I’m a good helper and I’m berry strong. See?” she said, flexing her arm.
I got to the kitchen and found the bottle. There wasn’t much, but it was enough to get me to smile, for sure. Or at least get me to the point where I could read bedtime stories without wanting to strangle Curious George.
I went to the fridge to get some cranberry juice to add to my magic potion — but alas, it was gone.
Well, not gone. There was literally “a splash” left in the container…
…and then the phone rang.
Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. I’ll have to bring the other me some coffee and whisper nice things to make sure she gets up with me in the morning.
UPDATE: I was told by one of my favorite stalker/stalkees that I should enter something into the “DudeWrite” contest that they occasionally hold for Dudettes, so I am officially adding this one, because, why the hell not? Voting starts on Sunday, so get your asses over there and vote for me! I need a “Man Card” to paste on my blog because the one in my wallet has been soaked by juice boxes and is now illegible.