Hell week and the PTA demon

I have been downright toxic for approximately 16 days. I’m not certain if some cosmic bullshit is taking place; some planet is aligned with some other planet thus souring my chi or if magnetic fields are at work, but shit is fucked up. Maybe it’s something really simple like: I’ve situated myself at my desk, doused it in gasoline, lit on fire, and attempted to work through the flesh consuming heat. Maybe I then invited all my co-workers over to roast marshmallows over my rapidly decomposing skin sack while asking me ridiculously redundant questions. Hey, fuckers, ever heard of Google? Could be just that simple, couldn’t it?

Over the last two weeks I have body slammed three different people, poked one person in the eyes, and kicked one woman in the twat. I do this in my happy place. My eyes glaze over while you’re talking to me and I go to my Utopia. I can’t hear shit you’re saying any more and my imagination takes over. I love my happy place. Next time I’m there, I’ll try to send a postcard. A postcard from the edge - that shit was completely unintentional, but unfolded so perfectly I couldn’t omit it. I’m just over-worked. Cry me a fucking river; I know how it sounds. I ought to be grateful I have a job. You’re right, I am…but also…fuck you. It’s my blog and I’ll whine if I want to.

The icing on this shit cake came this morning when I spent 45 mins texting with a PTA demon. Sorry, the head PTA demon of my son’s class. This bitch is constantly up my ass about one thing or another and today it was the kids’ PE teacher. Lady, I truly could not give any fewer fucks about PE teachers at 9 am on Monday morning than I do on this particular morning. I should never expect anything less from a woman who still wears spandex bicycle shorts and fanny packs. I’ll give her credit and say that they are at least leather (or fake leather) packs; no canvas for her. She’s livin large. Stay at home moms are great, but this one makes me want to have my uterus removed so there is zero chance that I’ll get pregnant, hormonal, and do fucked up shit like she does. That boy of hers is going to end up with some serious issues with women. “It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again.”

I don’t have anything nice to say, but my mom never fed me that horseshit line about not saying anything at all if you didn’t have anything nice to say. My mom wasn’t a fool. Bottom line: life has been super fucked up and really busy for me lately. I have had some real issues balancing being a superhero mom, stellar employee [I hear you motherfuckers laughing] and a gracious and giving [and I am giving] girlfriend. I know it’s been a while since I’ve written anything and even this probably doesn’t make sense. It’s cool, just go with it. Just be glad we’re not having this conversation face to face and you don’t have to watch my eyes glaze over. If you see it though, don’t worry, I’m just imagining our own personal fight club.

And just as I’m getting ready to close this blog down PTA mom has begun texting me again. I now understand why she wears bicycle shorts; she’s always spinning her fucking wheels. For fucks sake, give it a rest!