So, we hung out with skinnybitch and prettygirl today. I really really like PrettyGirl. She is the peace of the group. She keeps it together. She is pretty AND nice AND has great taste in clothing. AND she genuinly cares about people. She is amazing. I really do like her.
Skinnybitch and I got alone well with PrettyGirl around. We were good, sincere, and nice. We even walked to Starbucks together where I stayed to feed LB. Be proud of me but I didn’t roll my eyes ONCE. Seriously. Be. Proud.
The thing I notcied about skinnybitch is that she invited LB and I to her Mom’s house next week when PrettyGirl was around. But then, before she left us, she said, “Oh, ok. Well, we’ll see ya at the end of October for the mommy group party.” Oy. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she really doesn’t remember those things. That’s ok. I do that (Hell, I left the CAMERA on the CAR. Duh.) So I’m really not upset about it. She WAS just a general annoying, but hell, I do that, too.
In fact… wait.. shit! I’m not upset about anything! I guess the visit went well. I *did* snap a pic, but it’s all stealth and stuff.
So, maybe we should talk about how my belly can rest on my laptop now. ‘Cause I got nothin’.
Uh, remember a while back about LB’s .. uh.. phase? Remember how y’all told me it was normal?
Then, remember how she will not nap? At all?
Well, I decided to give her monkey to sleep with since she finds him so comforting. It worked. But, I think a little too well. *sigh*
So, I’ve been invited to a mommy “thang” with skinnybitch. Did I ever tell you that I didn’t make it to her party? Yea. I didn’t. Boy, women can be so catty. She actually thought it’s because I don’t like her and would say things about her to other people. Man, is she WAY off. I only write them.
He’s a dad. His baby is LB’s age. And he blogs. Oh, and did I mention he has an iPod, is witty and has me rolling on the floor with his posts? Seriously Best. Damn. Blog. Ever.
Now go check him out before I have my way with him.
I was going to post about how the population in our town has many new, hot men. All of a sudden I started noticing how many sexy, hippy-like men there are here. Starbucks guy was only the beginning. noticed gray whispies in hot Harrison-Ford-like men. I noticed sensitive, young blokes. I kept thinking that I’m either ovulating or five months pregnant because DAMN. Men are yummy.
When I finally figured out my emotional swings and sore boobs were the results of my ovulating, I told Mr. Flinger, “Hey! If we wanna have a baby, now’s the time.” He said, and I quote, “Stay the hell away from me.”
Hmph. And to think I’m only horney when I’m ovulating, drunk or pregnant. The man just doesn’t get it. (and won’t get “it”.)
Whaty’a doin’? You wanna know what I am doing? I’m sitting here with my iBook watching the 1998 hit “You’ve Got Mail” with two cookies, decaf cofffee, my PJs, IMing and thanking God I’m not bored enough to create this. Because if you think *I* am lame on a Saturday night.. that is just sad.
We lost a house. It was a lovely house. New, light/bright, big kitchen, fenced yard, good elementary school. It was a wonderful layout. It had huge windows. New everything. I luffed it. A lot. So we offered and they didn’t take.
We have some people coming to look at our old, shitty house tomorrow. I am baking cookies in the morning to woo them into loving this house because it smells so yummy and to not notice the pile o’ dog shit in the backyard. Scratch that. Make that piles o’ dog shit and dog barf in the back yard. Let’s be honest here, folks.
The thing about house shopping is that it’s too much like garage saling. You see something, you offer them some amount of cash, more than you think it’s worth but enough of a bargain to make you feel proud about yourself. Then you hold your breath to see what the person does. There is some sweating. There is some discussion. In the end, you walk away with someon’s old crap feeling like you got a good deal because hey! someone else is getting YOUR old crap. But really it’s all gonna be back on the lawn for display in another five years with more stains and mildew and rust. If I seem a bit pessimistic, I am. Some bitch came 45 minutes before us and took my house away from us.
Forty-freakin’-five minutes people. That’s the difference between someone else’s crap and yours.
Call me nuts, but I have bigger things to worry about now than work, leaving LB, or our house. Shit. See? I told you. Perspective sucks.
Hey, sorry to post about bloggy business but I need to know somethin’. I’m going to update my blogroll since about ten of you have moved/gone/added links. It’s a mess because I’ve accidentally deleted some that I read, I haven’t updated it in FOREVER, and know with everyone deciding to move, or start over, I don’t even know where you people are anymore! Also, if you have another *ahem* blog and it’s OK for me to add you to the blogroll, lemme know that, too. ‘Cause I probably always forget to go to it if it’s not there. I suck like that.
Look, no more moves, ok? Selling the house is enough for me. I promise to stay right here (and here). ‘K. ‘Cause I can’t take another move right now.
< / end public service announcement. Back to your regularly scheduled crap >
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