I am SO RELIEVED.
The head of the Laryngitis Beast has finally been lopped off. Still hacking up bits and pieces of my lungs and other assorted innards but I HAVE MY VOICE BACK (for the most part) and have been using it to yell at LOTS of assholes today.
The balance of the universe is once again restored.
I am SO TIRED.
When the Laryngitis Beast’s head was cut off, another TWO heads popped up in its place. I like to call the first one “Really Fun Urinary Tract Infection” and the second one is affectionately known as “Blinding, Shooting Neck Pain That Will Not Let Me Sleep or Turn My Head.”
Clearly the universe LOVES ME and appreciates all I do to help it maintain peace and harmony.
I am SO WEIRD.
At the moment I can’t stop listening to two albums: Paul Anka’s Rock Swings, in which PAUL FUCKING ANKA offers covers of songs like Black Hole Sun and Smells Like Teen Spirit (I’ll give you a moment to process that — no, I’m not kidding) and also William Shatner’s Has Been, which he wrote and performed himself, arranged by Ben Folds with special appearances by people like Joe Jackson and Henry Rollins (again, no — not kidding).
I love Shatner. I want to marry him and have little Shatner babies. Is that wrong?
I am SO LUCKY.
Despite the fact that I have been an incredibly self-absorbed, whiny bitch lately, my BFF has checked in with me every day since I’ve been sick, treated me to lunch, and offered to help with whatever I needed, including looking out for the Bean, if I needed time to recuperate. Even though she’s got her own considerable amount of depressing bullshit to deal with, she’s listened to all my drama, given me a shoulder to cry on, and never judged me — not even once — for being such a moany, whimpering sucktard.
Friends like that just DO NOT come along every day. They just don’t.
I am SO OUT OF TOUCH.
To pay her back for her supreme awesomeness, I am taking BFF on a “Girls’ Night Out” this weekend – because honestly we could both use a little fun right about now. But after I suggested it, I realized that I have no idea what a “Girls’ Night Out” actually IS. Happy hour? Dinner and drinks? Dancing? My god, it’s been so long since I was just a girl, I honestly have no clue.
I am SO OLD.
I was complaining to someone the other day (I know, I know, it’s hard to believe, because that is SO NOT LIKE ME!) about the fact that Purple Rain was being played on the oldies station, and a 24-year old kid (yes, in my world 24 still qualifies as a “kid,” so suck it up and deal, whippersnappers) happened to overhear the conversation and asked, “What is Purple Rain?”
It took everything I had, people. Everything I had.
And if you are, right now, asking yourself “What IS Purple Rain?” you must leave my blog immediately and never come back. At least not until you can accurately recite every word to Let’s Go Crazy, including (or maybe especially) the intro “Dearly beloved…” part.
Hint: It’s “Punch a higher floor,” NOT “Honeychi-ald” dragged out for a long time. I learned that one the hard way.
I am SO IMMATURE.
I tend to bring random weird stuff into the office and then forget about it, so my desk is constantly littered with miscellaneous bizarre stuff like squirt guns, a voice distortion machine that’s never been opened, a punching kangaroo and the famous “Wheel of Excuses.”
But of all this crazy stuff, the one item that sparks the most conversations is my Miss Piggy coffee mug. By FAR.
I find that fascinating.
I am SO ANGSTY.
Remember that post where I talked about how upset I get when I email someone and they don’t email me back right away? Well, yesterday afternoon I sent an email to a friend that was remarkably gut-wrenching to write, and I STILL HAVE NOT HEARD BACK FROM THEM.
Listen, I understand that you’ve got a life, you’re super busy, the world doesn’t revolve around me, yada yada blah blah. (Well, actually I’m not *entirely* on board with that last one.) But busy or not, you can’t find 30 LOUSY SECONDS to email me back and say I understand, I get it, it’s okay, let’s talk, or at the very least Fuck off and die, bitch? Really?
What IS that? Who DOES that? It’s sort of heartbreaking.
If I didn’t already have my buddies “Really Fun Urinary Tract Infection” and “Blinding, Shooting Neck Pain That Will Not Let Me Sleep or Turn My Head” to keep me company, my old pal “I’m a Fucking Loser and Nobody Loves Me And Why Should They” would be happy to step in right now. We’ve spent many hours together in the past, he and I, and I think he’s looking to catch up on some quality time.
I am SO WHITE.
When the BFF was in New York on vacation a couple of weeks ago, she came across a Harlem hair salon called the “Sho Nuff.” Now every time I say something to her that she agrees with, she responds with “Sho nuff.”
And my reply is always “Fo sho.”
And then we giggle uncontrollably, like the incredibly lame white girls that we are.
I am SO BORED.
I found this web site over the weekend and became fixated, and I have now wasted countless hours pasting my head into weird situations and sending the photos to people I know who don’t care and will not find it funny at all.