Keeping it real!

I’ve been going through some existential life bullshit lately. I feel slightly broken, as evidenced by my last few posts. I think I figured it out though. Seasonal depression. That’s got to be it. I’d also like to hold Mercury in Retrograde and my pre-menstrual status personally accountable. It’s so much more fun to be off-beat and witty with my posts but lately I’ve been subjecting myself to the likes of Jewel, The Cranberries, and Sarah McLachlan. This all leads to really crappy emotional mo-jo and contributes to sub-par writing. I’m sorry people. As I type this “Fumbling Towards Ecstasy” is playing on Pandora and I can’t even pretend like I’m about to change it. In fact, if there was a Snuggie within reach and some cheddar popcorn this party would be ON! The only thing truly saving me from totally giving up is the fact that I actually put some damn effort into my attire today. In spite of everything that was screaming inside of me this morning saying “Bitch, grab those damn sweatpants, you know you want to! You don’t need to brush your teeth; you don’t care about the dudes you work with. Deodorant? Who needs that shit? In fact, if you rub some garlic under those pits, maybe those fools will back the fuck up.” Legit ya’ll, every FIBER of my being was on fire this morning. Burning with the itch [that sounds like I need an ointment or cream] to say fuck it and run. I’ve done this in my drinking history, this would be a first in sobriety. This adulting thing is bullshit. It hurts and it’s not funny until you put it on paper.

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk asking for straightjackets and silently praying that some random act of God [or kindness if you ask me] would come and snuff out my boss. Today I was laying on the floor of the gym at my apartment complex; which it DIRTY AS HELL, so I’ve probably contracted something communicable now, pontificating on whether or not I would be missed if I just didn’t show up – anywhere…anymore. Morbid? Maybe. Mercury. Retrograde. Pre-menstrual. I’m not suggesting I need an asylum but maybe a staycation is in order? I have no other explanation for my sick and indulgent propensity for emo chick music as of late. Hold on – I think I hear Alanis Morrissett… “Isn’t it ironic?”  Let’s not even get me started on how misused the word “ironic” is. Fuck! We would be here for at least another page. It’s coincidence people! I will put money on the fact that what you mean to say is: it’s coincidental. See how easily I’m distracted? Where did that damn straight jacket go? And yo, my skin is mad itchy – I think I got scabies; no more crying on the floor at the gym.

At one point last night I realized just how much of a pussy I was being. I was standing in the shower and I was having a little pity party going over the events of the day. I doing that Office Space thing in my head where I re-enact how I would have had things play out in a perfect world. You know, where you say what you want without any repercussions for said actions? I’m in the middle of telling my boss I want a damn raise for correcting his countless fuck-ups because his heads not in the game, that I want more respect, that I want Tim to quit pissing on my toilet seat – in fact, quit using my fucking bathroom altogether and grow the fuck up! I’m telling him that if he ever snaps his fingers in my face again to get my attention he is liable to lose those digits because that’s incredibly disrespectful, I’m not your household pet and although I’ve come a long way in my program of spiritual growth; I am not so far along that I am above biting a motherfucker. All of this is happening in my shower while I’m shaving my legs [my pity party hat is not getting wet BTW] and while I’m bent over shaving [which is also real attractive] the bar of soap falls from the ledge it’s sitting on and lands square on my head. Now, sure it’s funny, but it was also a kind of SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF IT moment. No it wasn’t, I’m lying. I was a little bitch about that too.

You’re waiting for a point. I don’t have one. I’m crazy, my posts have suffered, I’m sorry but I fear they may get worse. Mercury. Retrograde. Pre-menstrual. Now I’m just trying to see how many times I can say pre-menstrual and make you guys uncomfortable. I know I am. LMAO. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some emo chick music and crying to get back to.