Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Happy Tuesday... again


My back is wrecked today.  I feel like someone hit me with a baseball back across the lower spine. (what?  we played rough as children.  I also know what it feels like to get punched in the kidneys and the joyous feeling of breaking your face.  And I'm a very clumsy person.)

I also have bruises across my thighs.  You might think I had a battle earlier with a ninja or even that the husband and I got a little rough - in a good way.  You'd be wrong on both accounts.

My back just sucks.  When the weather changes I'm usually in pain.  I did the physical therapy thing for a while but finally settled on a great love of aleve.  Just 2 a day my ass... how about 2 every 4 hours until the hole in my stomach expands into a vortex to another dimension.  
And my thighs - did I mention I'm a clumsy person?  Add to that I think its funny to balance myself on the edge of my kids pack n play and fall forward into it to make him giggle.  

That and I bruise easily.

An example? My wedding dress was off the shoulder and it kinda cuffed each arm just below the shoulder. When we arrived to the hotel on for our honeymoon, I stripped off my shirt and my husband gasped (as he should because I'm glorious - but it wasn't for that reason) the bruises on each are looked as though he had given me a good shaking.  
He asked me to use cover up, which I did - because foundation on your arms in 90 Florida heat (Universal Studios rocks) holds up.  I think I wore t-shirts the entire time.
Thank god when we came home it was cold.
Oh, Ohio.

So, my back.  
Yeah, I took 800 mg of ibuprofen about an hour ago - and nothing.  AWESOME!
I should just go do yoga - but I'm tired and I want to go to sleep.  I'll probably just go crash on the couch.  Because it's not wrecked enough yet.  Damn things only 5 months old and it looks like it's closer to 10 years.
...maybe THAT'S why my back hurts today?

I can't figure it out. 

It's kinda funny to think I had a kid because BOY do I freaking hate pain.
If only I were a sadist.

Yet still, I keep getting tattoos.  I want another one so bad.  

And I'd like it to be warm.

I was in a funk most of today.  Earlier I was planning on calling this blog, The Funky Train to Shit Town - you know.  Cuz it's pretty.  
My mood just kept fluctuating between extremely angry to just a nice firm blah.  I started thinking, or should I say over analizing, things again.  I keep trying to find the end to the puzzle in my head, but I can't seem to see it and then I grew tired and withdrawn at which point I had to talk to someone about my taxes and updating my W4 - which lead me to wanting to breakthings.

I really wanted to punch that freaking chick in her freaking face.  
In my job there are certain things I just do because it's MY JOB.  I don't question it.  Not everything on this damn planet needs to be questioned.  
For real.  
But no. 
Not this chick.  
She was going to "help me" out by never shutting up and forcing me to end the conversation because I was now backtracking into oblivion.  So my W4 is still not fixed.  They are STILL not taking out the right amount of taxes and I STILL want to punch her in the face. 

I hate people.

I'm convinced I'm going to die alone, because one day I'm just going to snap and I'm going to start screaming and my head going to get all Linda Blaire and pea soup is going to shoot out my freaking mouth and a demonic voice is going to follow and then who knows?!  
Child services will probably come and take Xan or the Husband will grab him and run and then - as I'm floating five feet off the ground (and for some reason dressed like Dana Barrett in GhostBusters) and the walls and floors are covered in the pea soup and the evil demon voice in side me will only be quelled when they shoot me with a tranq dart and the next thing I'll know is that I'm waking up in a straight jacket in a padded room.... 

That's logical.

I need... I need... I need... 
I need 3 things... 
A beer
Alone time with the husband
and I really want a freaking potpie - OH or pizza!  

Pizza, beer and sex

look out cold coffee, left over hummus and cat covered couch!  
HERE I COME! 

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