So, last month’s round of PMS was brutal. Bruuuutal. It ranked among the top five lowest periods (no pun intended, okay maybe a little) of my life. No shit. But this month I seemed to have cruised right past PMS altogether. Yay, mostly. But still. These inconsistencies sometimes make me feel like my body’s doing things behind my back.
Happy birthday, Fritz. I would watch Oprah AND The View, just for you. And for some reason, I didn’t even mention the youngest nephew’s birthday on the 18th. Here he is, sporting a completely heteronormative tattoo I gave him. People need to cool it with the mating in late June, sheesh.
You know, Girls Gone Wild commercials have really soured my opinion of the steel drums. Before, I was fairly indifferent about them. But now, any time I hear them, I automatically want to throw up.
Me: [to Sally, who has her face planted in Jack’s ass] What are you doing? No! We don’t lick butts in this house! Jack: Meow! (translation: and why the hell not?!)
Hint: It’s in her mouth! Someone I know turned 27 today. I’m not sure, but I have a feeling that she spent the day in a terrycloth robe, painting her nails harlot pink and snacking on oysters and melba toast, watching reruns of Home Improvement and Designing Women, and occasionally tapping out nuggets of brilliance on her keyboard. At least I hope that’s how she spent the day. Also on the birthday bonanza front, Harmony…
The allergies are worth it. I shit you not, I just sneezed while writing that sentence.
Just suffered through a round of “Obama is the antichrist!!! It is prophesied, omfg!!!” at the family compound. Chewed holes in my tongue but managed not to get worked up or say a single word. Never realized how effing paranoid my family can be. Ho. Lee. Shit.
“I like early spring, but it’s just still kind of ugly. It’s like a wintertime fart.”
I broke one of my great-grandmother’s awesome striped drinking glasses Friday night. That makes two of the total stash that have fallen victim to the hardness of my floors. I didn’t break the other one myself, but it’s still just as broken. My own clumsiness is going to turn me into one of those people who always subconsciously looks for glasses just like these when she goes to flea markets and yard sales, and will…
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