What?
2004-06-18
9:46 p.m.

Let me preface this by saying that I am what they might call in some circles: Drunk.

- If I hadn't miscarried, I would be about 8.5 months pregnant right now. Yes, I wanted the baby -- badly -- but the idea still makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit. Oh responsibility, I fear you.

-- I primed the guest room for painting and then got hosed. Will I paint drunk? Will I wait? Will I half paint and then pass out? Will I paint myself, forget to leave a patch of breathing skin and DIE, a la Goldfinger/ Gold Something Bond movie that I may not have even SEEN? It is to be seen, grasshopper. It is to be seen.

- My husband is in Vegas, at at batchelor weekend. First, what the fuck is up with this batchelor weekend? Back in aught one, we used to just get drunk and throw up so hard that we gave ourselves a black eye. We'd consume the culprit alcohol at The Squire in Revere. We didn't need no stinking Vegas. We just needed booze and ladiez and the possibility of an execution-style killing in our midst, thoughtfully lit like a seductive florescent bowling alley. We didn't need a whole WEEKEND at the MGM Grand. But I guess these young whippersnapper grooms do now. But whatever, because that means I can get DRUNK and PAINT.

- What?

- I love wedding invitations, because now I know that tough guy's middle name is ELMER. NICE.

- I should maybe not just be typing everything that comes to mind, for fear of libel or merely boring the reader.

- My friend and I went shopping today, and while we were out (kind of like the show), small child who comes with her as a package deal pooed in his Pampers. My car still smells. I know this because I just went and got a CD out of it, and lo and behold, poo stench, 5 hours later. Yay.

- I want a doughnut, but that involves stumbling to the store since I clearly can't drive. Damn you, doughnut withholders! Damn yoouuuu.

This entry was a bad idea, I think. Thank you and good night.