Suck It

Oh, man, I just spent the last 40 minutes writing a blog that sucked big time. Days like this are the worst. It’s gotta be my mood, which is looking about as dark and evil as ...something. I suck at similes, so kiss my ass.

I get up every day earlier that I’d like by a good 3 hours so that I can let Milo out, only for him to decide that rain is LIQUID DEATH that is sure to destroy him. So back inside he goes, usually to take a big fat dump on the floor and then eat something that was never intended to be ingested.

And then I’m getting ready for work and nothing fits right because I’ve been spending my nights making sweet, sweet love to a pile of Easter candy that is 4-times bigger than it should be because I have two divorced parents, a boyfriend, and a boyfriend’s family that are all collaborating on ways to make my ass so big it needs its own zipcode.

And then I drive to work among these animals who have either road-rage or are in commute-induced comas because we all hate our jobs and we all hate each other and it’s raining AGAIN which adds a suicidal overtone to the whole thing and to be quite honest, I’m drifting a little closer to the edge every day, and it’s probably a good thing that I don’t have a semi-automatic weapon at home.

And work is always the same and I sit here and use about 2% of my brain to educate healthcare professionals on non-life-threatening conditions like edema and diarrhea and pump out sentences like: “Angioedema is caused by a complex system of histamine- and bradykinin-mediated physical responses” when inside I’m all “maybe I can throw myself down the stairs and get another 6 weeks of disability, because that was pretty sweet last time.”

And finally I get home after flipping off some [insert racial/sexist slur here] driver who doesn’t understand the “right on red” concept and delayed my drive by 2 minutes (which should be punishable by the death penalty). And I’m SO FRIGGIN HAPPY that I’m home with Brian, but at the same time I have laundry to fold and a puppy to wrangle and only a precious few hours until I have to get up and do it all over again.

So I’m thinking I either need a vacation or a bottle of Prozac, like, yesterday. Or maybe the rain just needs to stop for ONE GODDAM DAY so I can get some sunlight and fresh air and remember why life isn’t just one seamless commute of ass-hat drivers and cubicles and endless housework.

And all in all I love my life, I really do, but on days where it’s been raining for a week and my creativity is in the toilet and my pants are so tight that I’m losing circulation in my bottom half, I just want to go medieval on someone’s ass.

LIFE FAIL.
Try again tomorrow...