Putting My Pain Out There on the Internets so We Can All Have a Good Time

January 10, 2009 at 9:45 pm (The Monkeys in My Head)

 
True Story:
 
So while sitting on the toilet, trying to mind my own business, I ended up having to stick my fingers in my ears and start singing LaLaLaLa to block out Teh Crazies chatting on the local gab line in my head. One of them says, “She’s gotta get over herself.” Another chirps in, “He’s an ass, this really isn’t about her.” Lalalalala… monkeys jumpin’ from vines, eatin’ bananas, 12 of them to be exact and I think one of them may have said, “Know your doses.”
 
Nobody is gonna talk shit to me, so while this mental boxing match is going on in my head I’m thinking this is the time to start new, live out loud, get my shit in one sock or go crazy trying, which is the most likely outcome.
 
After all, what kind of fucked up mess spends their day sitting around reading other people’s blogs to keep away the reality that “he just wasn’t that into you so you kicked him to the curb.” Oh yeah, that would be me. And here I now sit with a totally free evening and there must be at least a gazillion things I can do right now. Let’s number the list, shall we?

1.
2.
3.

Anyone know what the number is for a gazillion before I get that far in my list? Does anyone know if I even spelled gazillion correctly because I am so telling you now that I hate spell checkers and I may misspell a lot of words here on the blog. So don’t get all up in my comments and correct my spelling, punctuation, or grammar unless I specifically ask you. This is the house’s #1 rule.

Fuck, I can’t even come up with one action item anyway so screw it.
 
I lied. I guess I could paint my ceiling but that would require standing on a ladder which I will most certainly fall off from and break my hip and then my prophecy of crazy would come true cuz we all know that’s when the Mad Cow sets in. Then I’ll be living in a nursing home drooling all over myself while the monkeys are shooting me up with dope. Sure, I’ll get right on that.  Course if it’s good dope, it might now be so bad.
 
Where was I, oh yeah… Stop acting like adults and trying to have grown-up relationships.
 
My plan, which obviously sucked monkey ass, went like this: 
 
1. We can date other people
2. Always be honest with one another, full disclosure
3. Friends first, yada yada yada

Well that’s a big old bag of shit that’s someday going to blow up in your face. The first time you hear, “I can’t see you this Saturday night because I, um, well, I have a date,” your going to want to rip his heart out, bake it in some sauce and serve it to him all June Cleaver like, apron and all.

 Uh, I don’t know Butchie instead.
 
So when I was younger and broke up with a boyfriend because he didn’t want me to see other guys (fucking Karma) and after I was mopping around for a day or maybe three my father said to me, “It’s been three days, time to shut down the pity party.” Gah, it’s one of those things that stayed with me and is so special to be remembered on days like today. But technically, it’s only been two days so fuck off, I’m still within the three day rule and I’ll sit around thinking of ways to bury his body if I want to, him and his minions. I include his minions because it was just one week before said full disclosure, adult-like conversation that one of them said to me, “You know, I think he loves you.” Are you fucking kidding me? Oh yeah, he may, really… he just likes to express his love for me on other women. Isn’t that what Dr. Harley was talking about when he talked about “love deposits?” I get it now, he just got his banks confused is all. I can totally buy into that concept as I so often deposit my money at the wrong bank.
 
And how is it, that my bf of the last 80 years or so, she and I both, after the parting of the husbands, both chose what might as well be twin brothers for our rebound guys?  We like to call them our “healers.” Stop fucking laughing!  Even though we are Goddesses and shit, we all have our weak moments and we’re pretty damn good at justifying whatever is necessary at the moment.
 
Even my dog is into the party action tonight, he keeps sitting here whining. I’m sure he’s wondering why his arch nemesis isn’t here tonight annoying him and pissing all over the house (the man’s dog, not the man). Nobody to get all BayBay on so he’s obviously sad too. Guess there is a bright side, think of all the cleaning products, water, and energy I’m conserving from cleaning up said piss. Go me and my carbon footprint!
 
Fandango.
 
Well folks, this was a time suck of an hour or so of my pity party, now what? Party favors anyone? Now where did I put that shovel?
 
Good Karma to you.
 
I double dog dare ya to comment.
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