Can I get a count of hands of how many people thought:
1. That Lucky and I got in a fight and Cocktails at Tiffany’s was going to be Cocktail at Tiffany sans anything plural?
2. That I died
3. You didn’t even notice I was gone?
I’m sure it’s mostly the later. Anywayyy, in case you were wondering a lot of stuff has happened these past few weeks. I’ve almost died twice and had about 17 mental breakdowns about being a lonely cat lady for the rest of my life. This convo even happened the other night:
Me: GOD!!! ALL THESE PEOPLE AND THEIR FUCKING BABIES!! BABIES, FUCK!
Lucky: I know, I am so glad I don’t have a baby right now.
Me: Not me, I want a baby. Because then someone would love me.
And I reiterate, “I want a baby because then someone would love me.” All. Time. Low. It doesn’t help that I haven’t clearly seen the light of day in almost a week.
Everyone remember when like the whole country just got a wintery blast about a week ago? My new big city is still recovering. I was off work for 2 days. (Nothin’ wrong with that, holla.)
The night of le bliz-zard it took me nearly 4 hours to get home, and as soon as I walk in the door Anth and JM are shoving me right back out it to go to a bar because our power was out. Heaven forbid we light the fireplace and some candles and have family game night. No, we’ve got to get drunk. So we do, and they go home with a couple of girls and I’m left to find my way home in this:
So I was drunk, I finally made the 2 mile hike home (I got a cab, he got stuck and kept the meter running so I gave him a $1 tip, in a blizzard, I’m an ass.) Anyway, I’m not sure what I expected to find when I woke up in the morning, but I didn’t really think the whole “blizzard” thing was going to pan out like everyone thought. I was like ehh.. we’ll probably get like 10 inches, nbd. When I opened the front door in the morning I quickly realized I was going no where:
So I parked it at home for the next 2 days. Which somehow got me sick, and that brings us to today. I’ve been sick for 9 days, and here it is my 4th week of work and I’ve taken yesterday and today off to recover from the super flu. I really hope when I go back I still have a job since my boss didn’t answer her phone when I called in to leave the “I’m dying, hopefully be back tomorrow” voicemail. So we’ll see. I guess if they fire me I’d be ok with it, the big city is ok. Honestly I’d rather be at home though. Wahh wahh. Poor Gizzy.
Anyway, mad props to Lucky for holding down the fort for the past month while I’ve gotten my life together. That’s a friend/co-blogger. I’ll try to get my funny up for the next post, but lets be honest, nothing about telling your readers you might be dying from living in 3 frat guys basement is funny.
Speaking of 3 frat guys and funny, I forgot to mention they had a super bowl party. I forgot it mostly because I moaned and groaned and threw up in my mouth at the sight of all the sorostitutes they had over that wore going out clothes. Yeah, for the super bowl. They all had on high heels and costume jewelry. The deal was all the girls that were coming make a dish, and each guy bring a case of beer. It worked out well except the fact that my pores are seeping death so I went to the store bought a few things of chips and dip, a cheese plate, and some non-alcoholic beverages and called it a day. Until I heard one of the whores whining about how, “Someone got lazy and bought their whole contribution.” No bitch, you do not come into my house and tell me I’m lazy. You want me to make food? Ok, I’ll make some food and cough up something on it and we’ll see how much you like that. And that’s exactly what happened when I went into the kitchen and “accidently” flipped my cheese plate over that she had no problem mowing down on her own. So needless to say the prostitutes, I mean sorostitutes, boycotted the store bought non-homemade food. Which is fine by me because now I have it to eat on my own and I’m sure there’s not semen in it (unlike some of the food they made I’m sure.)
So I’m learning this living situation isn’t going to last long. I’m dying from living in a dungeon and I can’t stand being around the semen soaked whores they bring around. Apartment hunting continued…