Thursday. Its now Sunday. I think I was abducted by aliens. NaBloPoMo excuse #5572
I’m down two glasses of wine. Everything is ready for the oven, the turkey is actually done, and at my sister’s behest, I have called my grandmother. I am cooking for the kids, the ex, and the housemate. When I say that, I get this weird eyebrow response. Yes, I’m awesome. I’m not only making a turkey, against my moral fiber, but I’m making it for people, with the exception of one or two, who could really care less. Why? Fuck if I know. That’s why I poured my first...
You can ask around, and most people will tell you that at one point or another, I have totally done something bitchtastic. Probably to that person, but, whatever. Bygones! I even have a jacket that proclaims my bitchitude, courtesy of my mama. Its a well known fact that when you have apparel with words on it, you are officially an important member of that word club. Look it up. But, first, you must all read about me… because, sometimes, blogging incessantly about myself just isn’t enough....
Even as I sit here, at almost an hour past when I wanted to lay down and fall asleep because I have been writing for two days straight and instead worked on a website and a client’s frantic call for help, totally ignoring my plan to edit that pesky thing that needs to be edited… I am completely, totally and utterly grateful to you. Somehow, even though I am terrified of what is ahead, and even if you make me crazy on a regular basis… today, you kept me sane. Thank you
…and rambly! Yay! I joke a lot about being without guilt or remorse. I embrace the Virgo exterior I am supposed to portray – emotionless, logical, full of blank stares and meh. People, dear readers, stalkers and haters, I have a confession: I am, indeed, heartless. Why? Because a whole lot of mother fuckers have broken my heart into bits and there is NOTHING left. So, fuck off. That being said, I hate hurting other people. It kind of kills me in a way that I am extremely uncomfortable...
