Um…

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear me…eee, happy birthday to me.

Whatever.

Update: My birthday started off with a bang. More like a chill. My furnace stopped working and I haven’t had any heat since 8 PM last night, which is the last time I can remember the heat coming on. Oy! It’s 55 degrees in here right now and I’m waiting for my landlady to come with the repairman. It’s always something.

Another update: It’s 12:30 PM and I still don’t have heat. I called the gas company and they said they don’t ‘do’ furnace repair. Fuck. I just took a burning hot bath, thankfully I have hot water, to warm up. The furnace repairman hasn’t called my landlady back. I need to vent…

What the fuck, furnace repairman? It’s January and it’s fucking cold. I have a hat, scarf, and gloves on..INSIDE. It’s also my birthday. I have other things to do, if you don’t mind. Call back and get out here so I can go have fun. I’d leave and let my landlady handle the shit, but the last time you were here this happened. So, I’m staying to supervise.

Another motherfuckin’ update: It’s 3 PM and still no heat. I just called my landlady and she says that she left another message for the repairman. Seriously dude. Call back! I have a feeling I will be spending the whole day here bundled up waiting for some fucking heat. I’m getting choked up about it. This is my life. I would like one outstanding birthday, is that too much to ask. I’m going to do some yoga and make bagels. The oven will warm me up hopefully. And I will probably have a real good cry because it’s my birthday and I’m sitting at home freezing my tits off. Oh, and did I mention not ONE of my real life friends or sister has called me or emailed me happy birthday yet. I need a new life.

Crying sobbing feeling sorry for myself sad wanting a new life update: My feet are blocks of ice. I did yoga and the sweating just made me colder. I had better get fucking heat by tonight or I am going to lose my shit so hard that I may have the ambulance called on me. White coats, come on in…make sure you have fucking gloves and a hat. THIS IS OFFICIALLY THE WORST BIRTHDAY IN AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER. Please forgive me while I sob into my 5 blankets with poor little Roslin who has been attached to me all day cause she’s cold. Stella’s got enough fur for a blizzard. Oh, and I just noticed this is my 500’th post. Woofuckinghoo. Shit, I’m not even going out to dinner for my birthday.

I’m finally warm and over my temper tantrum update: The heat is back on. The furnace just needed to be serviced. All is warm. The bagels turned out amazing. Dinner was good, I made this veggie white kidney bean stuff.

Thanks for listening…

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Grrrrrrr, I’m fierce UPDATED!!!!

HAAAAAAAAAAA! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAA! HAHAHA!

Who’s a silly nilly?

Me. I’m in a goofy mood. I felt like I hadn’t laughed in ages. And then the dam broke…I got the giggles.

First off, here are some pictures of my birthday prizes.


My mom and stepdad got me the Tori Amos box set I’ve been wanting.


Something I’ve been wanting to read.


This has many recipes for my foxy mixer. I’ll be a baking fool.


The now infamous “I lost one” earrings.


A book I’ve been wanting to read for a long time.


Earrings from my gay boyfriend, Tim.

I want to thank those of you who sent me gifts. You have no idea how much I appreciate these treasures. You all are too generous. To the people who sent me cards, thank you so much. They meant so much. I love you all.

Now onto other things…..

I’m kind of pissed off at my sister. Let me rephrase that, I’m livid with my sister. Her retarded doctor told her that she could go home on Friday for a week if she promised to do nothing but lay in bed. Instead of being smart and opting to stay in the hospital, she’s going home. To her asshole annoying demanding husband, her 7 year old stepson, her 80 pound dog…..I swear she always has the need to be a hero. I don’t believe that she will stay in bed. She has no sense. She won’t listen to my mother. My sister is behaving like an asshole.

I had the following conversation with the little girl, Ashley, I read to every Wednesday:

Ashley: “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
Me: “I don’t know. What’s wrong with them?”
Ashley: “They’re yellow.”
Me: “Oh, well that’s my eye color. It’s called hazel and sometimes my eyes are green and sometimes my eyes are gold.”
Ashley: “They look like evil eyes. The devil has those eyes.”
Me: “Well, I’m not the devil or evil.”
Ashley: “Are you sure? They are really yellow.”
Me: “Do you like me, Ashley?”
Ashley: “Yes, you’re nice.”
Me: “Would an evil person be nice?”
Ashley: “No, I don’t think so.”
Me: “Shall we read now?”

First time in my life someone has said my eyes looked evil. I know I have weird colored eyes. I know that I wear dark eye makeup that sets the color off. I know that depending on my mood they can look very light, almost clear….so I suppose a 7 year old my think they look evil.

What do you all think? Evil?

My eye looks red and irritated in that picture. I suppose an extreme closeup with a bad camera can do that to a gorgeous eye like mine.

In others news, I have to bite it and join a gym. I like exercising outdoors and since the weather has turned colder and it’s still getting dark early…..I’m finding it difficult to go outside. And I’ve tried to do some of the workouts on Fit TV, but I hate them. So, I have to get to the gym. Because I’m not getting younger and I need to save it before it goes to shit. I like to eat too much to diet.

Want to hear a story from the last time I was at the gym? Okay, I’ll tell you. I was running on the treadmill and there was a guy running next me. He had those short runner’s shorts on. Anyhow, I’m jogging along when I hear him fart. LOUD. And then he yells, “Oh no” and hurries off of the treadmill towards the men’s locker rooms leaving a trail of watery poo behind him. I swear on all that I love that this is the truth. I halted the treadmill and after getting over my disgust, the giggles started and well….didn’t stop. I had to sit down on the treadmill because my stomach hurt. The woman who worked the desk made the guy clean up his own shit, which made me laugh even harder. I, then, had to run to the bathroom because I was laughing so hard I almost peed myself. Luckily, I made it.

Maybe the gym will be fun. Lots of potential stories and hijinks.

What else can I talk about? Let’s stay with the poo theme, if there is one, and talk about how I chased Stella Marie around my apartment the other night with a pair of scissors and a baby wipe because she had a big turd hanging from her tail. She wouldn’t stay still and kept fighting me when I tried to cut it out. I ended up pinning her down and holding the end of the poo with the baby wipe and, with ninja speed, cut the poo out. It wasn’t easy and I got some poo on my hands, but I got the poo off of her tail. Yay me!

More? You want more? Oh, I’ll give you more. Ready. Here I go.

Sike.

I’ve got nothing.

Oh wait. Hang on.

I forgot to tell you all something. I saw the Pilot out on a date. Yeah. That wasn’t supposed to hurt. Aren’t emotions weird? I don’t want him, but I didn’t want to see him with someone else. Especially when I don’t have anybody. It made me sad and pissy.

I need to get laid, ya think?

Okay, I’m really finished now. See y’all later.

THURSDAY MORNING UPDATE: Guess what? I’ve having a rough morning. My panties keep falling down. I just now had to stick my hand down my pants and pull them up. I don’t recall have this kind of problem with these panties before, but this is annoying. Oh, do you want to know what my outfit is today? Okay. I’m wearing an ill-fitting heavy black sweater with two shirts under it, baggy pants, and a pair of jeweled slippers that I keep under my desk. Wanna see the slippers? Here they are.


Are they in style? No. Are they pretty? Nope. Do they match my outfit? Not a chance. Do I give a shit? No way. They’re comfortable.

Alright, that’s enough from me. Back to work I go. Fuck yeah!

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What I’m thinking about right now….and some stroking….

…and what’s going on. I’m in a pissy, hateful, bitchy, skin you alive kind of mood today.

My sister was admitted into hospital yesterday and will be staying there for the duration of her pregnancy. She was bleeding again, worse this time. They say she had a contraction in the middle of the night and that caused the bleeding. Her placenta is pulling away from the uterine wall which is a sign of labor. If she has more contractions she could hemorrhage and bleed to death, so she’s where she needs to be so that if need be they can take the baby whenever they need to. Which means that my nephew could be born anytime now. Hopefully she can hold out until Feb. 16 when she was originally scheduled to have her C-section.

This Sunday is my birthday. Whatever. All my friends…I’m sorry did you not hear me…..ALL MY FRIENDS are busy. ALL OF THEM. Sooooooo, I have to figure out what the fuck to do this weekend to celebrate. If I don’t have plans by tomorrow night, I’m going to egg and toilet paper every single one of my asshole friend’s houses. I think that is more than fair, since I didn’t miss anyone’s birthday this past year and wait….let’s add up the dinner’s, presents, and drinks I went in on because I’m a good friend and care for people….yup, I think they’re getting off easy.

Do you know what one of my biggest pet peeves is? People drinking hot coffee through straws stuck in the sippy hole of the coffee lid. When I see this I want to knock the cup of coffee out of their hands. I’m not sure why this bothers me so much, but it does.

Why does everyone think Scarlett Johanson is such a good actress? I see her in a film and I want her to blow her nose (she always sounds like she’s stuffed up) and get a fucking personality. She’s a charisma bypass. She has the same dead stare and monotone voice in every fucking film she’s in. She’s one of those people who is lucky she’s pretty.

Remember that guy I told you all I had a crush on. Turns out that he’s in the hospital for a little while. Want to know why? Apparently he has genital warts and had an outbreak. To sooth this outbreak he started using a new cream which caused him to have a severe rash. Instead of going directly to the doctor, he let it go figuring it would go away on it’s own. Well, let’s just say my friend was surprised he didn’t need skin grafting to get things back in order in the crotch region. That’s just beyond gross. Don’t people wear condoms?

Did anyone watch Scrubs last night? No? Losers. They had a song on there called Guy Love and it’s the best thing I’ve seen in weeks. Go here to view and I dare you not to laugh.

Before I get to the stroke, I want to let you all in on an idea I have. I think one day each week I’m going to let someone “hijack” my blog. Meaning that someone can send me a post and I’ll put it up on here. The only rule is that it has to be funny. No politics or religion, unless it’s funny. Shit, I’ll even let you do a parody of me if you want. I’m doing this because I know I’m going to be insanely busy for the next couple weeks and I thought this would be fun. So email me your posts.

And now the stroking….

Sector-9: Miss Sarah is one of my first readers. She came from Marcia’s blog. Sarah is like the punkrocker of my blogroll. The anarchist. But with heart. She’s living in Israel and it’s quite amazing to read about current events from someone who lives there and isn’t getting paid by anyone to water it down. She’s a great read and you should go over there and leave a comment. She also posts some yummy recipes.

So this is my life!?!: I work with this lovely lady. She’s a personal friend of mine. Her desk is one row over from mine and if I talk loud she can hear me. Actually, I can hear her talking now. She’s funny and has an adorable 3 year old daughter who talks like she’s 30 years old. This lady knows my sense of humor and oftentimes we get laughing about something so hard that I almost pee my pants. Mostly, we’re laughing at LJ (cubicle neighbor) cause she’s nuts. Go check her out. Her blog is pretty new and she’s just getting into posting often. Leave a comment and say hi.

Softball Slut: The name of the blog makes me laugh. She loves softball. Even more than I ever did. I love her stories of softball games and family and trips. She’s got an adorable kitty. She’s freakin funny. Go check in regularly and you won’t be sorry.

The LJ Hour: This is not my cubicle neighbor, but someone I found in the weirdest of ways. I won’t get into it. But, I love her blog. She’s funny and a seriously talented photographer. Her dog is the cutest little thing. She writes about her life in NYC and her trips everywhere. She’s a big traveler and it’s cool to see the pictures of all of the places she goes and read the stories. Go over there now.

The Pink Shoe: Well now….there would be no Fresh Air Lover if it weren’t for Marcia. She’s a former work colleague and she’s the one who told me to start a blog. And she’s the one who told me to keep on blogging, even when I thought I had nothing to write about. So, if you love this blog you need to thank this little lady. She’s got crafts, food, and wit…oh and shoes…and she’s a good time. I think you should go over there now.

Have a good weekend.

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Onions, peppers, and marshmallows

I’m getting over my cold. Thank you all for your well wishes. I appreciate it. I’m at the stage now where I’m constantly blowing my nose. I’m not sure where all of the snot is coming from, but I must have expelled a pound of it from my sinuses today. Gross? Yup. My cubicle neighbor, L, asked me what color it was at one point. I told her it was light yellow. She almost fell off her seat laughing. She didn’t expect me to tell her.

I’m extremely busy at work right now. In addition to my 3 monthly publications, I have 2 supplements that will be publishing in March. So, that’s 5 issues and 700 pages that I’m going to have to edit, manage, proof, and get published. That’s not including ad layouts and all of the questions and bullshit. And I love it.

I went to a diner with my mom tonight and as we were sitting there I got the overwhelming urge to pick up the squeeze bottle of ketchup and squirt it at someone. I told my mom and she looked worried. We both ordered chicken cheese steak wraps. As we’re eating, my mom asks me if I like it and I say, “Chicken, cheese, onions, peppers, and marshmallows. What could be bad about that?” My mom is looking more worried. I ask what’s the matter. “Marshmallows?” she says. I start giggling and say, “I did say marshmallows, didn’t I?” We start eating in silence and I get into a really good stare. You know, the kind where you’re not thinking about anything–you’re just staring. My mom says my name and I yell (it was pretty loud), “What’s going on, Mom?” She starts laughing at me. She asks if I’m okay and I say that I’m tired. This makes her feel a little better.

I got my first birthday presents this weekend. My friend Tim gave me a pair of pretty earrings and a bunch of really gorgeous fairy figurines. I also want to thank Danielle from Maryland for the book. It was really sweet of you to send me a present and I’m very happy you like this blog. I can’t wait to get reading that book. Thanks again.

I’m watching American Idol just now and I’m worried about Paula Abdul. There’s something wrong with her. I don’t even think she’s taking good drugs. Fucking space cadet. Aside from her, this is my favorite part of the show….the auditions. These people are great.

And what’s up with people saying like after every word they speak. I can’t even imitate it here because it irks me so much. And other thing, what’s up with all of the muffin tops I’ve been seeing lately. For those who don’t know what a muffin top is, click here. I see them everywhere. Just buy a bigger pair of pants. It’s got to be uncomfortable.

Okay, here’s what a contestant just said to the judges on why she should be picked after she acted like the Cowardly Lion and sang ‘If I Were King of the Forest” exactly like said lion, “Because I’m like the mostest different person here.” I worry. I do.

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I’m sick of this cold, I’m sick of weirdos emailing me, and other things

I’ve been sick. I’ve been getting ass raped by an evil sadistic cold the past couple of days….

I woke up on Thursday with a stuffy nose and a tightness in my chest. I went to work and did my usual things like work my ass off and ran errands after and worked out. These things only made me feel worse. I updated the other blogs and then logged onto MySpace to see, I don’t know….because I was bored. Honestly, I’m starting to wonder why I have that page. I don’t ever really write anything to anyone and I basically ignore most of the messages I get and deny most friend requests.

sigh….

So, Thursday night I logged on and I see I have a message from a guy on my friend list. This guy asked to be my friend when I first signed up for MySpace and I accepted his request because he said he read my blog and liked it. He seemed kind of normal. He would occasionally send me messages regarding a particular post I’d written and I would write him a little message back. I mean, I felt his messages were no different than what you all leave in the comments….accept they were long and would include things about his personal life. But still, I didn’t mind. I’m a nice person by nature. So, here’s the message:

Deb,
Ok I just went through your blog. I am sorry again and let me apologize for the male of the species. I will never understand why some men think that showing a picture of a woman with cum all over her face would turn you on. Especially since you’ve never met them. It’s a diiferent thing if you’re in a relationship, but not until then…lol I would love the chance to talk to you on the phone but I guess my chance is not going to happen because of the freaks that you meet online. I would love to talk to you because we share alot of the same likes and dislikes (ie:Food, Wine, Rome…lol). I know that I gave you my phone number and that’s not something that I usually do. I didn’t really expect you to call. I was just feeling a bit rowdy from a few beers and it being around my birthday and all…lol. I would usually ask for a number and then call. I’m sorry if that turned you off to the idea of talking to me. I feel like I write to you about my life and I read about yours on your blog. When you write to me, it’s never more than just a few lines. I read your blog and I want to talk to you about cetain things or ideas (non sexual) and it just seems like a one way conversation. I only want to talk as friends and I don’t want to fuck you. I don’t even really know you. I like to meet someone and know them before I ever have sex with them. For me I need some sort of feeling for them. I would love to get to know you better to just be able to call you and talk to you about “Rome”. That is one of my favorite shows. I also have a strong interest in Rome in general. I am reading a book on Julius Caesar right now. It’s pretty cool because it mainly focuses on his miltary career. It was written by a man who fought in the civil war (our civil war). That whole period of time fascinates me and I think I am well versed in the subject. I know you said that you like Vorenus but I am a huge fan of his counter-part and wife Indira Varma. Huge crush over here..lol. I almost had a heart attack when she killed herself. She was in a movie called “Kama Sutra”. If you ever get a chance to see it please do. I love the soundtrack. Anyway it’s a shame that hosers like the “cum picture guy” and the rest of them get a chance to talk to you and I don’t. I think you would like talking to me because I think I’m pretty smart and have experienced much in life. I have a broad base…lol. It’s ok I guess if you don’t want to get to know me but I think you’re just not giving me a chance for some reason. It’s your reason whatever it is and I can respect that. You’re just missing a chance to have a good friend to have in your arsenal. Fuck…I can even spell…lol. Ok enough trying to convince you why you should be my friend on a more personal level. I hope you do but if not my world will still be intact and I will still write to you. Now I’m going to go make a nice dinner and drink a nice little Malbec I found. It’s called “Kaiken”
and it’s from Argentina.
Have a great night Domina

I wasn’t happy about this. This man doesn’t know me. I don’t know him. Yes, I was a little weirded out that he gave me his number but I just ignored the number and wished him a happy birthday. I had hoped he got the idea that I’m not the type to call without knowing someone. I mean, how many of you have my number? Some of you have been reading my blog for over a year and I still wouldn’t give you my number and you probably wouldn’t give me yours. There are some readers that I’ve never had any contact with outside the comments of our respective blogs. And that’s okay. You all get it. Only 10-15 of you have my number or have a chance to get it. The to the rest of you, although I do sincerely care for you, I’d rather stay “Debbie from Fresh Air Lover” if that’s okay.

The problem with people like the man who wrote that message is that they mistake ‘blog life’ with ‘real life’. The only reason I have a MySpace account is to connect with people I haven’t heard from in a long time (and that’s happened) and to get more traffic for my blog. That’s it. I don’t have time for all of that other MySpace shit. I have a life.

Anyhow, I’m sick of typing about this. I just wanted to post that email to let the people who read this blog know what is going on. I also told my father about the email in case it becomes more than what it is. I don’t think it will, but I can’t trust that. I think that the email was fucking inappropriate, crazy, and obnoxious. Feel free to give me your thoughts on it. I’m probably over-reacting but I just get paranoid. I know that it may seem cruel that I’m saying all of this knowing that this man reads my blog, but I see it as a way to let him know that sending women he doesn’t know messages of this nature makes him seem scary, even if he happens to be a nice guy.

To that man, don’t contact me again. I’ve blocked you from contacting me on MySpace and please don’t email me. I’m not interested.

And for more fun stuff:

My birthday is one week from today. I still don’t have any plans. My gay boyfriend Tim is visiting from NYC and was supposed to take me out last night, but I cancelled because I’m too sick. He’s coming over tonight to give me my present and champagne, and said not to be offended if he’s wearing his Hazmat suit. Bastard.

Other than that, nothing has been going on. I’ve been flat on my back from this cold. At one point yesterday my right nostril and my right eye were leaking. My nose is chapped and red. My voice sounds like someone sandpapered my throat. My back hurts from lying down all day. I did cook a nice big pot of soup yesterday and it was divine.

I’m out of energy. My eyes are watering and I just want to close them.

Smooches.

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Mmmmm, I’d love to lick Vorenus from head to toe

Two weeks until my birthday. Hooray! My family has asked me what I want for presents and I’ve shown them my Amazon Wishlist. How much do you want to bet that I don’t get one thing on there? My family never listens to me. I know I sound like a spoiled brat, but I’m really not. Last year I got decorative floral boxes (I’m not a decorative floral box person) and plastic place mats for my kitchen table. All of these are stored away in my closet. Oh, I forgot to mention the flannel wrap with fringe. I think it’s much better if I just tell people what I want.

However, I did get a fishing pole last year for my birthday. There is hope, I suppose.

My downstairs neighbor’s have been so loud this weekend that I’m going out of my head. They’ve been yelling at each other, slamming doors, listening to their TV’s so loud I can’t think, and oh dear….the arena rock….makes me homicidal. To make matters worse, last night I came home from meeting a friend for dinner and my apartment smelled like cigarette smoke (they both smoke). I sprayed the whole place down with air freshener and then lit a bunch of incense to get rid of the smell. They are yelling as I write this. It’s damn irritating.

Is anyone else really excited about the second season of Rome? I love this show. They’re rerunning the first season just now. It’s unlike any other show there is. And I must confess that I’ve had plenty a fantasy about Vorenus having his way with me. In every way imaginable. And I have a very good imagination. There is something about the way Kevin McKidd plays the character that is so savagely passionate. And those togas. Makes my thighs quiver. Dear lord he is beautiful.

I learned how to crochet yesterday. I’m making a scarf. We’ll see how it goes. I’m not one for hobbies (blogging being an exception), but I need something to make me relax. I’m wound up. I need something to do until I get laid. So, there might be lots of scarfs and other knitwear coming out of this. Don’t be surprised if you find one waiting for you in your mailbox. Even if you live in Texas. It’s either that or send me a lover.

Yeah, that’s all I got.

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Fresh’s Ego Stroke Part Tois—UPDATED

It’s black friday and guess what Debbie won’t be doing…what? You don’t know? I won’t be shopping, silly. No way. Those people are crazy.

I just realized that my birthday is in less than two months. Shit.

I went to a new level of dorky when I made a page for Stella on Catster. Yeah.

I will be updating Coquettishly later today, as I actually have two questions to answer. Love it.

I’m watching What Not to Wear and I think I might need to be nominated. I need Stacy and Clinton’s help. I do.

Thanksgiving was good. And kind of fun. Dinner was really yummy. And I had my favorite dessert….hot apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Yummy!!!!

1. Went out to breakfast with my mom and stepdad at a classic NJ diner. The waitress was about 70 years old with a deep cigarette voice and a beehive featuring a huge red bow in the back and wearing a gingham Santa apron. This is what I love about NJ diners. There is always one waitress that is like this.
2. I love going out to breakfast. It’s my favorite.
3. My mom tells me that my asshole stepbrother (remember, he’s 38 living with my mom and stepdad for free because he refuses to pay rent and treats both of them like shit) won’t help my stepdad rake up the leaves in the backyard. My stepdad is 64 and is about to have knee replacement surgery. I volunteered to help out today.
4. Got home from breakfast and laid on my couch. Huge mistake. Fell asleep.
5. Woke up and went over to my dad’s for dinner. I was pissed at my dad because the night before he was giving my pregnant sister a hard time about all of the complications she’s having with the pregnancy. He says it’s in her head. Typical dad.
6. Dinner was really good. One gross thing happened. My dad’s girlfriend’s daughter put a pile of turkey on her plate, got up, and brought a jar of mayo to her plate, then proceeded to smear half of the jar all over her turkey. I gagged.
7. We played board games after dinner. One thing that irritates me about playing board games is that when you play a difficult one, the people who can’t answer the questions or have to think really hard about the questions always want to give up and play something else. I say, step the fuck up. It’s not my fault you don’t read, or educate yourself, or know things. I wanted to play Trivial Pursuit and we only got halfway into it.
8. Why do I always get the sports questions right when I never watch sports or care about sports? Weird.
9. I had two pieces of pie, pumpkin and apple. I was so stuffed I felt sick. I’d say that it was a successful Thanksgiving.
10. Got home last night in time to watch Grey’s Anatomy and it was a very good episode.

Now the stroking:

Boobs, Injuries and Dr. Pepper: I can’t remember how I found this blog, but Crystal is hysterical. Honestly, she cracks me up. Right now she’s pregnant and I didn’t know that pregnancy could be so damn funny. Her stories about her neighbors, kids, husband, and job are well-written and I think it’s her writing ability that makes her so easy to relate to. I love her Burger King stories.

Captain & Coke with a Lime: April is a rockstar. Really. She is. She’s sexy, beautiful, smart, strong, and funny. She’s been through a lot and yet still has her sense of humor. Oh, and she attracts the same types of guys I do. She’s another woman who I know I’d be friends with if she lived closer. Go check her out.

Clumsy Cajun: Another sassy lady who is pregnant. I love her dogs. They’re so cute. She has a baby blog which is really good too, go here to read it.

I should probably go get dressed now. I don’t feel like it. I’m feeling so lazy. I have to be at my mom’s at 1PM to rake those leaves. I want to stay in my snuggly jammies for the whole day. Oh, the dream’s we have huh?

UPDATE: I spent 3 hours raking my mom and stepdad’s backyard by myself because my stepdad is really sick. This means I not only raked, but had to bag the leaves myself because the township already picked up the leaves by the curb. And my stepdad’s leaf-blower is broken. I get no breaks, huh? Three hours, sixteen bags of leaves, two blisters, and one sore body later the yard was finished. I did half of this shit without gloves because I didn’t know there were any. My stepdad told me where the gloves were after I places a particularly wet and slimy pile of leaves in a bag. My mom couldn’t help me because she’s just had surgery a month and a half ago. Oh, and where was my fucker stepbrother? Up in his bedroom the whole time. I hate him. So, I’ve decided I’m buying my stepdad a new super-duper leaf-blower next year and shove the his old one up my stepbrother’s ass. Sounds good to me.

I just took a hot bath to calm my raging muscles and I’m in my fluffy robe. Now, if only I had a masseuse here. Oh, the blissful state I would be in…I wouldn’t even be able to put words to it.

Coquettishly is updated. And now I’m going to relax and do nothing for the rest of the night.

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Paying for it today.

Last night I got shitfaced. I didn’t plan on going out or drinking. I wanted to curl up on my couch in my jammies with some tea and forget about how unlucky in love I am.

And then my cellphone rings.

It’s my mom’s friend. My mom was at a party, a 60^th birthday party for a good friend. I knew about it. The birthday guy’s son’s band was playing, a really good band that has won many coverband contests. There was going to be loads of food. There was going to be loads of alcohol.

Anyhow, it’s my mom’s friend Lynn on the phone. She’s from Scotland and has, what she likes to call, a fiery Scottish temper. Her brogue is quite thick when she gets excited or emotional.

Lynn in a thick brogue: “Where the fuck are you girlie?”
Me: “I’m home.”
Lynn: “Get your ass over here right now.”
Me: “I’m in my pajamas.”
Lynn: “I don’t want to hear that shit. Get dressed and get over here. You’ll have plenty of time when you’re 80 to be in your pajamas.”
Me: “Um…”
Lynn: “If you’re not here in 30 minutes, I’m coming over to get you.”

**Click**

I sat there for a few minutes and got up to get dressed. I knew there was no use in fighting. Lynn would come over and get me.

I heard the band playing before I got into the neighborhood. When I pulled up to the house, I noticed that there were kids sitting in the middle of the driveway eating and gabbing on their cells.

I parked around the corner. I walked up to the house and saw my mom and Lynn coming out the door. To get me. As soon as they saw me, they rush me into the party. My mom takes me to the bar to get a drink. As we’re waiting for my drink to be made, this guy comes up to me and asks me if I needed a drink.

Before I go on, let me explain something. I’m not attracted to men who are shorter than me. I know this isn’t nice, but it’s how I feel.

This guy asking me if I needed a drink was about 3 inches shorter than me and to be totally honest, I wasn’t in any mood to meet anyone. I told him I was waiting for a drink and then went back to talking to my mother.

I got my drink and we walked out into the yard where there was a dancefloor in front of the band. My mom was dancing with her friends and I stood there and focused on getting my drink into my belly as quickly as I could. I went for a second drink and stayed in the bar area for a while. This strange woman who my mother sometimes hangs out with came up to me and started asking me a gazillion questions about why I didn’t come right up and talk to her. She has the crazy eyes, you know that wide-eyed wild look, and seems kind of drunk. I told her that I wasn’t in the mood for her shit and guzzled my drink. After getting my third drink, my mother tells me I need to eat dinner and ushers me into the garage that is filled with all kinds of food. I get a sandwich and inhale it, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

After eating, I went up to the bar to get another drink and there isn’t anyone manning the bar. So, I go behind the bar and start making my own drink and the next thing I know I’m the bartender. As I’m making drinks for everyone, the short guy who asked me if I needed a drink in the beginning of the saga tells me that I’m the prettiest girl he’s seen in a long time. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, at least I think I did, and thanked him. He continued to lurk around the bar for about half an hour before coming up to me again and asks me if he can ask me a stupid question. I say okay and he asks me if I’m seeing anyone. Now, since I decided to start my long term relationship with myself yesterday afternoon I didn’t have to feel bad telling this guy that yes I was indeed seeing someone. My mother choked on her drink when I said that because she knew about my new dating situation.

The night goes on and the following things take place:

1. My mom’s friend Matt, the birthday boy, puts $2 bucks in my cleavage for making him a drink.
2. An old man tells me that I’m the cutest thing he’s seen all night and asks me if I’ll give him a kiss on his cheek. I obliged.
3. I make a drink for some asswipe who then tells me that in order for me to receive a tip, I must show him my nipples. He said this right in front of my mother, which was a huge mistake because she lost her mind on him. I believe he is shitting out of two assholes today because of it.
4. A different man told me that he’s suck on my nipple if I let him. I ignored him, but kept asking me to come over to him. This time it was me that tore someone a new asshole.
5. Another guy asks me if he could have my phone number. I politely told him that I was seeing someone, but thanks for the interest. I found out later that he was married (no, he didn’t have a ring on) and that his wife was at the party.
6. The short guy lurked and hung around the bar the whole time I was there. After a while, I started getting a little freaked out because I was pretty drunk and didn’t think I could handle this guy if he got weird and followed me to my car or something like that.

My mom ended up driving me home in my car last night. I was too hammered. I got home and devoured a slice of cold pizza. I did manage to wash my face and brush my teeth before I passed out.

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