“Are you there, Google? It’s me, Smug. Are swollen glands normal during a woman’s menstrual cycle? This is new for me.”
“Hi, Smug. Of COURSE they are! Isn’t womanhood wonderful?”
…Well, fuck you, Google. (Nah, I’m just playin’, baby, I love you.)
Shopping for dishes and realizing I will never be a fine china type. $140 per 5-piece place setting? Oh, OK. I’ll get right on that, Kate Spade. See also: blow me.
I need to buy dishes because I’m a giant, spazzy klutz and I’ve broken most of mine. Even if someone else bought them for me, on the cold day in hell I ever get married and have a registry, I just can’t be trusted. That’s all I need is to break a teacup and envision $28 of Great Aunt Millie’s hard-earned retirement money in tiny shards on my kitchen floor.
I am the person for whom they invented Corelle.
From the department of “I’m going to hell”…
I just said something looked “more forced than buttsex on an altar boy.”
(Does it need to be said that I don’t actually find child molestation funny, nor do I have any qualms about religion? I did not invite that metaphor into my brain — I’m not sitting here thinking of pedo jokes as a habit. But I did think it was too good not to share. If you like, just substitute ME for the altar boy, because I don’t want that nonsense in my ass, either.)
Doctor’s orders to exercise more came not a moment too soon. First, it’s 100-and-ball-sweat degrees outside, so I’ve been living in dresses, and the insides of my thighs look like I have fucking scabies. (And there’s still a whole lotta East Coast summer to go.)
But also, someone just sent me photos from the family barbecue — there’s one of me holding Baby Cousin, and it looks like I’m ready to birth his next playmate. Nope. Nooope.
(I mean, I did get hit on that day, so I couldn’t have looked THAT bad. But dude also seemed very surprised I didn’t have kids, so maybe I just have a stereotypical “Mom Bod” now? Outstanding.)
I don’t know how it’s even possible I’ve never heard this song before, probably because country usually isn’t my angst. But oh, I am downloading this immediately and singing the SHIT out of it. There might even be a playlist, or as we fogies call it, a mix tape.
Today I got the best prescription ever from my doctor: yoga, sunshine, reading, and Lexapro.
Well, yes, ma’am! *salute*
Happy Daddy Issues Day!
What? Is that not what we’re doing?