Dead? You should be so lucky.
Well, hi there!
Apparently, it’s been over five months since I’ve been on here. So much for that writeablogaday idea. I was honestly thinking of just deleting this whole blog, since I’ve failed so miserably, but after reading through the previous posts, and being seriously amused (Me: easily amused, especially by my own witticisms) I’ve decided to let it proceed. So, you, me, everyone: Get over it. Here are some of the high points of the past few months:
High Point 1: My old, cobbled-together desktop computer died a sudden, explosive death (seriously. It was probably just the grace of the Guardian Angel of Silly Drunks that kept my house, cats and meager possessions from experiencing similar explosive deaths). Thence, I bought a laptop. A super sweeeeet laptop. It’s the love of my life. Except for this goddamned touchpad. Its motherfucking schizophrenic antics make me want to cut a bitch. Here I am, typing away, minding my own self-involved business, when all of a sudden, mid-word, the cursor jumps three lines up and continues typing in the middle of something I’ve already painstakingly typed out. Aaaargh! What the fuck?! Am I to take this to mean that my lower thumb knuckles are so undisciplined that they can’t be bothered to not even fucking touch the middle of the platform that my wrists are resting on? Of course. It’s me. Not a ridiculous fucking design flaw. All me. My bad! A thousand apologies for my duck-footed hands.
High Point 2: I got a raise! Wheee! Which also means that I’ve now got more responsibility. And more frayed fucking nerves. The things I could bitch about right now, hooo boy! If ever a girl needed a blissfully anonymous forum to spew spiteful bile all over, this is it, and I am her.
High Point 3: My romantic relationship is in the crapper. It’s not even hanging on by a thread; no longer is it exhaustedly treading sour water, there is no hope for redemption; the horse is dead and beaten down into a pulpy mire of mud and blood and miniscule crackles of bone. Yeah, that’s all well and good, glad I’ve finally managed to admit that, but how the fuck do I get out of it? This relationship has been my first experience in the wild world of cohabitation, and I’ll be goddamned if I know how to end it. There are many ridiculous reasons for this dilemna, but the only one I feel like sharing is this: I tell my significant other (henceforth known as S.O.) I want a “divorce”, I’m moving out, so long, goodbye, thanks for all the fucking giggles, then what? I don’t have any where else to go. I’ve got friends who would let me spend some time cruising their couches and cable television, but what about my cats? S.O. isn’t a known abuser, certainly not of animals, but he has proven to be ruthlessly mean and spiteful in the past, so how could I trust him with my four-legged kids during a between-homes interlude? Plus, there may be a custody battle over them, as silly as that sounds. Jesus H. Christ-on-a-motherfucking-crutch, just typing that out makes me realize how stupid and spineless I’m being. Whatever his honorable qualities, I need to get the hell out of this horseshit. Blah blah blah, love sucks, move the fuck on.
High Point 4: I am wearing my oh-so-cozy pajamas, a well-worn-and-broken-in hoodie, and a straw cowboy hat. Why? Because I fucking felt like it.
High Point 5: I’ve stopped smoking pot. Kind of. For the time being. Many angles converged into this decision (various aspects of High Point 3 were major factors, along with financial considerations, et cetera), but rest assured, I shall return. Every relationship I have, romantic or otherwise, might crumble and fester into putrid obsolescence, but I will always love my sweet Mary.
High Point Epiphany!: I ventured into the touchpad properties on my sweeeeeeeet new laptop, and lo! What’s this?! “Tap off when typing”?? I will just be goddamned. Life has just gotten eons better.
Drunk: Trying.
Hearing: Stayin’ Alive, the BeeGees. Hah!Hah!Hah!Hah!
Drinking: The ol’ Peeber with a heavy assist from Jose.
Smoking: Camels.
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