Archive for the ‘Bringing home the bacon’ Category

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It’s my fourth day on vacation and I’m already bored. I am one of those people that can’t relax when I’m alone. If someone were here, I would have no problem snuggling on the couch or sitting and reading. But I feel like I should be doing something when I’m alone. Like cleaning or something equally productive. So, I’ve decided to post about my vacation so far, even though nothing exciting is going on.

Friday: I woke up early, had breakfast, checked my email, and laid on my couch where I fell back asleep for a few hours. Got my lazy ass up and went out to the pool where my lazy ass stayed for 2 hours. That was enough time to feel a bit like a raisin. Got myself together to work out and after my workout, showered and watched TV. I would have listened to music outside, but my Mullet neighbor and his Inbred nephew were in the backyard playing who can get drunker. In addition to being completely grossed out by Inbred, I’m also a bit scared of him as he’s followed me up the stairs of my apartment several times over the years and always tries to touch me. He is usually extremely drunk on these occassions which scares me even more. And then there’s the fact that he has admittedly beaten his ex-girlfriend (and mother of his child, cause it’s not complete without an illegitimate child is it?) when they were together and even after they broke up. So, suffice it to say I steer clear of him when he’s here. It pisses me off, since I pay to live here and enjoy the property.

Saturday: I woke up in a bad mood. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world for me. I went outside to hang by the pool and after about an hour I was ready to come in. I decided to take my friends up on their invite to their famous Independence Day barbecue since I had no other plans. I got there and was horrified to find that it was only married couples and me. I’m not kidding. ALL of my friends are married and most of them are housewives or stay at home moms. Most of them married lawyers. So, it was that and me. I wish I could say it was a rip-roaring good time, but I was disgusted by the alcohol selection, Arbor Mist (in all of its varieties), low-carb beer, and Mike’s lemonade. My friends used to have taste. I picked up a Mike’s and hopped from group to group trying to find someone that would talk about anything other than the following: lawyer talk, mommy talk, or uptight bored wife talk. And these people aren’t perfect. The things we used to do. The things I know about all of these uptight frigid bitches. I used to be sisters with these women. Now, they are so full of their own shit it’s embarrassing. They are so fake. I left early and came home. After an hour boredom sunk in and I made my famous brownies. So, now I’m desparately trying to give the brownies away to anyone who wants them because if they are here I will eat them. They are that delicious. And I really don’t need to get any fatter.

Sunday: Got up and went to the pool. My neice and nephew came over, so I spend the whole afternoon outside in the hot sun with the kids. Then I worked out and when I came home I noticed that I was feeling a bit worn out. I took one look in the mirror and realized why. I was lobster red. I was in the sun way too long and realized that I didn’t drink that much water. I spend last night trying to hydrate myself and a marathon of a History Channel series The Revolution, which is very good.

Today: Oh, I’m pathetic. I woke up, had breakfast with a friend of mine, came home and went back to sleep. I decided not to go outside today, as my skin needs a break. And I haven’t done a damn thing since I’ve woken up. I am watching a What Not to Wear marathon on TLC and trying to keep myself out of the kitchen because those fucking brownies are still there. I sure hope the night isn’t as pathetic.

So, I know that the best is yet to come for this vacation and I’m impatient for it. I wish I could tell you all what it is, but I need to keep this a secret. But trust me, it’s a good one and worth the wait.

uPDATE: shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Don’t tell anyone. I was at my neighbors a few houses down and we were drinking and shooting off some serious fireworks, well I wasn’t my neighbor was. Well, they were fucking awesome. And then some fucking bitch was drving down our street asking people what the addres of the ‘fireworks’ house is and we said ‘fuck off, what’s your \address” and then the next thing you know the cops were there telling my poor neighbor he would have to stop or they’d arrest him, so he stopped. An hour later his son came home and said he found the bitches car and she lives one block over from us. I went home. About 5 minutes ago, my 76 year old next door neighbor called me and said she egged the woman’s car with a dozen eggs. She walked. I almost pissed myself laughing, but I’m under control now. Fuick I’m drunk. Bye.

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I don’t have much to say today. I’ve been super busy at work trying to wrap up everything nicely before my vacation. I will say that I’m sick of summer already. The humidity is killing me. My hair, already thick and curly, is beyond help this morning. I had to pull it back for fear it would suffocate me. I’m uncomfortable in my clothes and I feel miserable from the heat. How many days until autumn? About 100.

Yesterday, while walking to get some lunch at my favorite burrito place, I saw a woman standing just next to the door of the Starbucks next door. I recognized her as one of the regular homeless/crazy people that frequent this part of the city. As I get closer to her I notice that she keeps pointing to her crotch and talking to random people walking by. I get closer and I notice that she’s only talking to the men on the street. As I walk by I hear her say to the man next to me, “Hey buddy, I’m juiced up here.” (points to her crotch) “I don’t’ know how long it will last.” So, I chuckled and went in to get my burrito. I’m standing in line and I started giggling. Then I started laughing. And I couldn’t stop. Because everytime the shop’s door opened I heard this woman announcing that she was juiced up. By the time it was my turn to order, I was crying and holding my pained stomach. The woman behind the counter takes one look at me and says, “We don’t serve the crazies. You’re not crazy are you?” This made me start laughing all over again and after a few seconds I got some control over myself, ordered, and left. And yes, the juiced up homeless woman was still there pointing at her crotch.

And did I have my camera? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Update: I went to get Indian food for lunch today (I’m having an ethnic week, huh?) and the same homeless/crazy woman was on the corner near my building saying the same damn thing. I would have told her to go underground to suburban station to find someone who would be appreciative of your juiciness, but then I remembered that those men down there only like to fuck men.

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