Best book ever, by the way.
Anyway, my life sucks right now. Not like "the world is ending, Jay was fired, and now we have to live in the trailer park" horrible. But shitty nonetheless.
It all started when I was getting ready for an outing with my family. I wanted to dress nicer than the flannel pajama bottoms and sweatshirt-no bra needed-attire I had been in for the last 2 days. And I decided I might as well go all the way and shave the prickly forest off my legs. Jay had made the "ow, I think I have a splinter" comment that he does when I have waited a touch to long to shave comment earlier, so I thought shaving would make him happy. Then I decided to wear make-up, and I can't remember the last time I did that either. And I did my hair, kinda. I made sure to curly style it, since I didn't really have time to break out the dryer or straightener. I was thinking I would get a little va-va-va-voom outta the old ball and chain later. And I was very excited about that. You know you start to feel sexy when you know you look good.
And then my period started. Wa-wa-wa-waaaaaaaaaaaaa. I was pissed. I shaved my legs for nothing. The only highlight was that I could go from wearing my sexy booby bra to my normal booby bra because I stopped caring if Jay wanted to motor boat them later on.
And then the cramps came. Fucking cramps. The only time I wish I had balls is when I have cramps. Guys never get cramps like menstrual cramps. Fucking douchbags. They walk around like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders, but those cockshiners don't have periods, babies, or cramps.
Later in the evening, we were at Evan's school at a meet the teacher thing and barbecue put on by the good old PTA. I used to want to be one of those bitches until I actually attended a meeting. You know what PTA meetings consist of. Gossip. And a little school shit on the side. But mostly it's gossipy goody goodies with their perfect hair, perfect nails, and perfect size 2 frames in perfectly matching outfits. I hate those bitches. Now, I may be a soccer mom, but I am the soccer mom that has her hair in a ponytail and in windpants because I am busy. I prefer sleep to waking up bright ass early so I can impress people in the drop off line at school. Let's get this straight, though, I am not a slob. I dress appropriately for things, but I don't think soccer games in the pouring down rain requires kitten heals and perfectly pressed khakis.
Anyway, I stood in line with Evan to get his and Kenzie's hot dogs. We were in line forever waiting for HOT DOGS. Finally they are done, and this PTA droid gathers all the hot dogs and instead of going down the line, goes to almost the end of the line and hands them out to people she knows. Since I am on the Red Rage, you know it took all I had to not beat her with my paper plate and tip the dish of hot dogs on her. I said, after she had handed out the hot dogs to her clones, "I don't care if the hot dog is perfectly grilled or not, my son and daughter have been waiting to eat and we've been standing in line for 10 minutes. Please just give my kids a hot dog." and she huffed a little and got us some hot dogs. Fucking whore. I hope she pokes her eyes out with her mascara brush.
Finally, we are home and I go to make our dinner, while my husband sits on the couch and fondles the remote control. He never helps make dinner, but I am, again, Red Raging, and it pisses me off. But I go on to actually dish up his plate and bring it to him. Dinner was good; garlic chicken, garnet red mashed potatoes made with garlic, tarragon, and thyme infused sweet cream, and steamed asparagus.
Then I got a craving for a KitKat blizzard. And I just had to have one. So I had Jay look up the closest Dairy Queen, and even though it was over 5 miles away, it so felt necessary to get a KitKat blizzard into my system right then and there. So in the car I hopped, taking the dog, to haul ass to the Dairy Queen. After getting lost, of course, I found it. It was like a haven. That big sign seemed to shine just for me. I pull into the parking lot, and bam, a fucktard hauls ass, almost hitting me, mind you, to get into the drive through line ahead of me. I laid on the horn, and yelled out the open window, "I swear to God if you order anything but a blizzard I will let my killer dog eat you" and luckily, he only ordered a SODA (who hauls ass into line to order a soda? OK, so I've done this, but I was Red Raging, so I had that right). I get to the order box, and say clearing and concisely "I would like your KitKat blizzard in a large, please. With chocoalate ice cream. Thank you" (I firmly believe in being nice to the drive-through line people. You can't see what they are doing to your food.) And this stupid shit tells me they no longer sell KitKat blizzards. I was like "what?" and he said he was sorry (liar!) and that I could chose from one of their other selections. And then I said "But I don't want those, I want a KitKat one" and he said he couldn't help me, and I almost started crying, and then I said "So if I go get you a KitKat and bring it back, can you make me a KitKat blizzard?" and he said no because it was against health code blah blah blah and I said fine and that I would take a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup one in a medium. And then I tried it and it tasted like peanut butter ice cream, and I HATE peanut butter ice cream, so I was like "Redo" and ordered an M&M one. But once I took a bite, I realized I couldn't eat it without my tooth hurting. FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was ready to head to the nearest bridge and drive me, the dog, and the Durango right off of it at this point. But, I headed home.
The reason I can't eat hard things right now is because I had dental work done on Thursday and it hurts to chew. If I can't eat it with my front teeth, then it's a no go. See, see why my life sucks stinky sweaty balls right now.
And to make matters worse, Evan woke me up BEFORE 7:00 because he wanted to play X-Box, and now he can't play all day, because I am sick to damn death of hearing from the minute I stumble out of bed about the stupid X-Box. Then I stumble to the bathroom and realized that praying for my period to end and actually ending are 2 totally separate things. And then, stumble back into my kitchen to make coffee. I dump out the remaining dribble of coffee from yesterday, rinse it out, add the amount of water I need to the base, then pull out the metal liner to clean out yesterdays grinds into the food scraps container, laying it on the counter after I rinsed it out to dry. Then I go about grinding my beans, and dump in my first scoopful. DIRECTLY INTO THE SPOT WHERE THE LINER GOES. BUT THE LINER IS ON THE COUNTER. So I start the pot, hoping with all hopes, that it will clean out the grinds because I found that sticking a spoond down in there only pushes the grinds down farther. That was over an hour ago, and I'm still getting the grinds out. I tried using napkins, a knife, every-fucking-thing I can think of. I am very very very very sad.
And I am going to kill something if I don't get coffee soon.
And my cramps are killing me.
And I still want a damn KitKat blizzard.