The outside, it burns

I’m not known for leaving the house. Not ever. I don’t like being around groups of people, its starting to get really hot outside, and I like not having to wear pants. Alas, a friend of ours birthday party was this past weekend, and we went. I was responsible enough to take my xanax beforehand, however, that only stops the panic attacks. The flow of stupid and inappropriate words could not be dammed.

To prepare you, the time before this we went to a party, I explained in detail a vagina being waxed and having the lips possibly torn off because of the procedure (as a joke, as far as I know this never actually happened). We haven’t been invited back to that house.

I thought it would be fun to highlight some of the night in really badly drawn cartoon form. Again, badly drawn…

We're the people who spend the party with the animals.

We’re the people who spend the party with the animals.

The first attempt a mingling with the other guests.

The first attempt a mingling with the other guests.

No matter where Dianne trys to redirect me, I'm still going to make things uncomfortable.

No matter where Dianne trys to redirect me, I’m still going to make things uncomfortable.

 

Yet another failed attempt at making new friends.

Yet another failed attempt at making new friends.

 

I may have avoided a panic attack, I also managed to remind Dianne why I shouldn’t be allowed to talk.

I haven’t heard anything terrible about us from the party, so I’m guessing everyone else was plenty drunk and I will continue to pretend we were a hit.

 

 

Grumpies

I know this is something dumb to blog about. Seriously, I haven’t posted in like a week and I really should do this more often. The blogging, and writing, not having the grumpies.

Ok, so the grumpies are just that. I’m grumpy, restless, I don’t know whats going on. Maybe its because my migraines have actually been worse than usual (what? right). Ok, I’m writing like I talk sometimes, which is just not good. And I say seriously all the time.

So (I say that tons too) I was thinking of taking a xanax because of my grumpies. But, it makes me sleepy, which is not good, cause I feel blah already. Then, I shouldn’t take my xanax for anything other than panic attacks… and rage. Ok, its really for the panic attacks, but I have serious heavy duty rage issues. I should totally talk about that sometime. Actually, here.

So there are some things in my family I think are hereditary that are probably not, but all of us, or the majority of us, totally do it.

  1. Rage- serious, attack your car with a baseball bat, throw my laptop across the room and accidentally hit your foot with it rage. Ok, that was a remote. I wouldn’t throw my laptop, I’m way too poor. I do slam it around a lot and call it a douche face though.
  2. Mornings- none of us can get up before like, 11am, if you’re lucky. Its just not possible. And when we do its not good. I can do things, but I’m not actually awake until 1pm. I was in trouble my whole senior year for this. Partially my fault, partially my aunts.
  3. Work ethic- totally sucks. None of us are good at working, or like to work. I know most people don’t like to work, but this is like “I’d rather be evicted than keep this dumb fucking job. I’m going back to bed.”

Ok so thats all. I’m watching a dumb movie that is funny, and somehow that annoys me. I don’t like comedies or romantic comedies that are funny but just…. easy and stuff. Like my brain doesn’t have to think to process this movie. Its uh…. Friends with Benefits. I’m so lazy, I’m not spell checking this shit, or linking anything.

 

This is my dog Echo, she’s impersonating me in the morning

PS: I hate having to pretend I like kids. I seriously want a cookie every time I’m nice to a kid.

PPS: I might actually be published in something. I’m not sure if it will be a printed book or just an e book. It would be awesome. I think.

The Clock that Ticked Once

Apparently I am not like “normal” women. By this, I mean that I will never have human children. Ever. I’ve known it most of my life, and it doesn’t bother me one bit. Has it affected potential relationships? Yes. Does it make other people angry? Yes? Don’t ask me to explain that, I won’t get it. It’s like trying to tell me how much you like football, or…sperm. I have no idea, and I don’t want to try.

Now, I am going to be 32 in a couple of months. I just realized that this is about the time ten years ago that that biological clock I had heard so much about actually ticked for me. It lasted, I would say anywhere from a week to a month. I know it was there one day, and I remember when it left.

I was working for my girlfriend at the times cousin as a Nanny. She had 2 boys, one 6 and the other 9 months. I was there from morning until when their mom got home. I had never taken care of a baby full-time like that before. I would say, about a month into the job, I started seeing these kids in a new light. I started thinking “hey, maybe it is different if they’re your own. I might want one of these. Aw look he’s being cute.” I started talking to my girlfriend about it, which rightly freaked her out. There were three problems with me possibly wanting kids: one, I had never wanted them before, and said I never would. Two, my girlfriend did not want kids. Three, my girlfriend wasn’t in love with me and was basically using me and cheating on me. I didn’t know about that last one till some time later.

Anyways, I remember spending days muddling through taking care of those two kids, and finally seeing what everyone else saw. There was something comforting in that, in the normalcy I suddenly felt. I wasn’t into baby dolls as a child, I never wanted kids, I didn’t even really want to get married. If you have ever been not normal, you might know what its like to suddenly not feel like some mutant that isn’t made correctly. “Oh shit!” said the gods “we forgot to put in her biological clock!”. Yeah.

Then it ended. Those kids would scream, make messes, make me feel so exhausted that I couldn’t function. I couldn’t pee because the baby didn’t like to be left alone for two minutes. I had to get the 6 year old from school every afternoon, even in hail. There was vomit, drool, poop, and “oh god what is that?” slimy things. Some of you are reading this going, aw that’s cute, that’s how they are. You somehow find some of it endearing. Like muscling through the hard times makes the good ones so much better. For me, muscling through the hard times wasn’t enough, I started muscling through the good times too.

As these things happened and time went on, I became myself again. And when I look back at it now, it seems like some drug induced time, maybe a spell? I’m not sure. But I am back to my mutant self that does not, and will not, ever want children. Some will and do vilify me for this. Go ahead, everyone loves forced reproduction. I could give you the reasons why I shouldn’t have children. In fact, here’s an easy one.

 

That is how you see a baby, compared to how I see a baby. You see something snuggly, that smells like talcum powder and is full of giggles. I see a monster attacking me with its hands, mouth, and eyes, trying to give me botulism. They don’t go well with my germaphobia. Their noises make me tense and irritable. Don’t try to say it’s not that way forever, my oldest niece is 12, the youngest is 6. I’ve been around them plenty. And you can go pretty much anywhere and there will be throngs of teenagers there. There is no better for me. Well, better would be another dog maybe. Or a tortoise. Or a rat. I’m an animal person. Anyone in their right mind would not want me to have a baby. There’s not enough medication in the world for that.

To those of you who have children, yay for you. I hope you do well and your kid turns out to be a decent human being. You also probably don’t get this story. But that time you started thinking about having kids? I was right there with you! Then I went and had a beer and never thought about it again.