Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Oh Holy Hell!

Did that just really happen? Did some chick just ask me about my weekend then try to trump my fabulous graduate The Girl and  party like a rock star three day crazy town tour? Well guess what Downer Debbie, you didn't make me jealous- you scared the fuckity bejeezus out of me! As if I wasn't stressed enough! Now please call my pharmacy and ask them to have my Xanax prescription ready STAT!

The weekend was a whirlwind. Friday I resigned from my sure thing paid gig then Carrie got put in the hospital because her appendix up and exploded more than 3 DAYS before that. How she is alive- we have no idea except I am writing the Pope because she has to be a miracle. I will ask him to start the process to make her Saint Carrie of All Things Sparkly & Exploding Organs. Then I went to Jamba Juice to get her dinner, a smoothie with orange and pineapple. Simple right? No- it's like I asked them to please make a 2 fruit smoothie while standing on their heads and singing Ave Maria in Pig Latin.  So the jack hole at the register says to me that they don't have an orange & pineapple smoothie and she will have to look at their recipe chart to figure out which smoothie is closest to what I asked for. Uh oh - oh man there goes the look and my face just went from Bubbly Rescue Friend to Come Closer So I Can Strangle You Psycho. Really?

There are oranges, like 300 of them, behind your head. Take those and blend with pineapples or pineapple juice and throw in that sherbert and we are good! Right? Nope. Those oranges are not real. What. The. Fuckity! Idiot at the register says to me, "Will you step aside so I can get the customers behind you and then I can help you?". Are you shitting me? NO, no I will not. Like I have a spare 15 minutes while the 6 people behind me get their juice and I wait because you can't figure out how to get a couple of pieces of fruit in a blender meanwhile my friend is in the hospital possibly dying and all she wants is this fucking Jamba Juice! No way, Ass Munch, you help me now. Right now. Mean face sure makes things happen because Carrie got her dinner and I avoided a free trip to city jail.

So Saturday we get up at 7 AM to get The Girl ready for graduation which started at 1:00 but we had to be there at 11:30. So that means because the geniuses at her school thought it would be super awesome to have their graduation in the middle of fucking downtown we had to leave at 10:00 to make sure we could get there and park legally then have time to sprint the 6 freakin miles and jump gosh only knows how many bum hurdles to the auditorium in the central Texas heat. In heels. Yeah! They better be selling beer at this joint or else! She graduates, we scramble to get outside and meet her and the rest of our party- we lose some of them and it becomes every man for himself in the sea of freaked out oh my God I have to fend for myself now newly freed graduates and their holy hell I am finally free from the financial shackles families.

Let me just politely point out something here, when your child/friend/relative graduates- please do us all a favor and do not dress as though you are stopping by before you head over to the porn star convention. I'm just saying, if your dress sausage skin is so tight and short that I can see the bottom of your ass cheeks and the outline of your lady-scaping , then your dress is not for a family centered function. Okay? And Carrie is still in the hospital.

What not to wear to the high school graduation.
 Or anywhere else.
Sunday we run around like crazy people who just busted out of the asylum running errands and so on. We go to a party at our friends house and it is fabulous, as always. Until I feel something on my lip. It's a piece of glass. Oh shit, there is glass in my beer. Guess where else there is glass? In my throat and possibly maybe traveling to my intestines! Oh goody! The Man says we must go to the ER now to make sure I am ok. So I text Carrie, who is still in the hospital, to tell her, "Good news! Maybe you won't be lonely anymore because I have been drinking glass and maybe I can be your roomy!". Awesome. I just drink another beer though, because Carrie already told me the food sucks and the nurse is mean. Plus she's bored out of her mind and the bathroom provided is hardly princess worthy. At least at the party there is good stuff to eat and if anyone is mean you can claim drunk and kick their ass for them. So far, no internal bleeding. Winning!


So we get to Debbie Downer who after I tell her about my insane weekend she looks me in the eye, leans on my desk and smiles all snippy and smuggy-like and says, "Weell Iiiiii started my Christmas shopping". After I pulled myself out of the fetal position and climbed back onto my chair I told her to beat it. And do not ever mutter those words to me again. Ever. Christmas shopping in May? MAY! Really? Dude I am so revoking your cool chick card because you just made the rest of look like selfish losers because we partied and stuff while you were all martyrish and went shopping. For other people. Way to ruin my holiday rush. Fucknut.


  1. Meh. Fuck her. She probably has a fat 'script for xanax and lives in a winery. Oh wait. That makes me more jealous.

  2. Hmmm...I may tackle her on the way to the parking lot. I'll share that Xanax with you. We'll see how fucking peppy she is in a couple of days sans the meds. Damn holiday cheerleader.