Raging into Alcoholism.
So I'm dying.
I'm having a very stressful week/month that would normally lead me to desperate measures aka indulging in 10 pints of Ben & Jerrys and sobbing into a glass of Makers every night. BUT it may come as a surprise to you that I'm actually taking it like a champ and just trying to breathe through it all and basically not go on a stabbing spree :) *siiigh* Poor Poops - he has to take all the wrath by his lonesome. He deserves a trophy and the biggest microbrew in the world and maybe a BJ or something... Anyway, to start off, I've been working like a mad woman. During these hard times, I wish women didn't have rights and were still restored to being slaves slash pretty miserable housewives. TAKE MY WORKING RIGHTS AWAY OBAMA. I'm talking slaving away with 70+ hour a week and non-stop production torture. At least I've been getting chummy with our new creative director who says I'm his new best friend so cheers to a new BIG DEAL BFF. He might have been joking but I'm really considering hitting up Claire's for a BFFL keychain for us. (Side note - I'm leaving names out so they don't stalk my poor LJ to death.) I'm trying to be ~positive~ about all the working and hopefully by July you'll be looking at an official producer. BUT you never know these days :\
So my car is dying.
It's even been a hell week/month for the Black Mamba. Some poor guy rammed into her on the way to work the other day. And then this morning, a lady rammed into my car again so it makes it the second time in less than a month that my car gets FUCKED in the ass - literally. Obvi, none of these are MY fault. So of course, car drama is possibly the worst kind of drama ever and this obviously makes me a very pissy girl on the verge of alcoholism. I don't even know where to begin with the pesky insurance process. My genius plan is to call the rep and just tell her to fix it. I'm praying that will work so wish me luck and light a few candles for me.
So Poops and I made it to three years. *hi-five*
Three years of expensive bar tabs and sloppy cuddles. Also known as my longest relationship so far which makes me a very happy, corny girl. I'm even convinced he's the "one". Whoa, that's definitely a very serious thing to ever say but he really is. I can't picture my life (or beers) without the smelly guy. So he's mine until death or else he'll be skinned :) Don't get me wrong, I'm in no rush to get married even though I can feel my eggs shriveling up with every shot of whiskey I take but whatevs. He's mine, I'm happy, we're happy, and we're in love. :) <3
If you're wondering, we spent our anniversary @ Disney World and we took full advantage of our seasonal passes. We did some serious damage to our bank account though so that kinda hurt but thank baby Jeez for my tax return *hallelujah!!* The trip was basically a romantic spring break getaway. Frat boy style and all. I mean he ended up in the Ecpot men's restroom barfing his brains out after one Irish Car Bomb (too many). There were definitely lovey-dovey moments that I'm sure you don't want to hear so I'll leave that out. I think we might have scarred a poor 8 year old in his Donald Duck hat for life from our "accidental" groping during the tequila line. It was a fantastic trip nonetheless and I truly feel bad for our housekeeper. :P
So that's that.
This is where you intervene and slap me across the face and tell me to snap out of it. One bad month shouldn't make me a bitter bitch but unfortunately, LJ is taking the beating. I've been super inspired lately in the creative department but not having any time lately is delaying my ideas. And I'm definitely not going to sit on my ass and tweet/instagram/bore you to death with inspirational bullshit. That shit is not fun to me. In the meantime, I'll just complain and cry into my whiskey. That's always fun.
I'm having a very stressful week/month that would normally lead me to desperate measures aka indulging in 10 pints of Ben & Jerrys and sobbing into a glass of Makers every night. BUT it may come as a surprise to you that I'm actually taking it like a champ and just trying to breathe through it all and basically not go on a stabbing spree :) *siiigh* Poor Poops - he has to take all the wrath by his lonesome. He deserves a trophy and the biggest microbrew in the world and maybe a BJ or something... Anyway, to start off, I've been working like a mad woman. During these hard times, I wish women didn't have rights and were still restored to being slaves slash pretty miserable housewives. TAKE MY WORKING RIGHTS AWAY OBAMA. I'm talking slaving away with 70+ hour a week and non-stop production torture. At least I've been getting chummy with our new creative director who says I'm his new best friend so cheers to a new BIG DEAL BFF. He might have been joking but I'm really considering hitting up Claire's for a BFFL keychain for us. (Side note - I'm leaving names out so they don't stalk my poor LJ to death.) I'm trying to be ~positive~ about all the working and hopefully by July you'll be looking at an official producer. BUT you never know these days :\
So my car is dying.
It's even been a hell week/month for the Black Mamba. Some poor guy rammed into her on the way to work the other day. And then this morning, a lady rammed into my car again so it makes it the second time in less than a month that my car gets FUCKED in the ass - literally. Obvi, none of these are MY fault. So of course, car drama is possibly the worst kind of drama ever and this obviously makes me a very pissy girl on the verge of alcoholism. I don't even know where to begin with the pesky insurance process. My genius plan is to call the rep and just tell her to fix it. I'm praying that will work so wish me luck and light a few candles for me.
So Poops and I made it to three years. *hi-five*
Three years of expensive bar tabs and sloppy cuddles. Also known as my longest relationship so far which makes me a very happy, corny girl. I'm even convinced he's the "one". Whoa, that's definitely a very serious thing to ever say but he really is. I can't picture my life (or beers) without the smelly guy. So he's mine until death or else he'll be skinned :) Don't get me wrong, I'm in no rush to get married even though I can feel my eggs shriveling up with every shot of whiskey I take but whatevs. He's mine, I'm happy, we're happy, and we're in love. :) <3
If you're wondering, we spent our anniversary @ Disney World and we took full advantage of our seasonal passes. We did some serious damage to our bank account though so that kinda hurt but thank baby Jeez for my tax return *hallelujah!!* The trip was basically a romantic spring break getaway. Frat boy style and all. I mean he ended up in the Ecpot men's restroom barfing his brains out after one Irish Car Bomb (too many). There were definitely lovey-dovey moments that I'm sure you don't want to hear so I'll leave that out. I think we might have scarred a poor 8 year old in his Donald Duck hat for life from our "accidental" groping during the tequila line. It was a fantastic trip nonetheless and I truly feel bad for our housekeeper. :P
So that's that.
This is where you intervene and slap me across the face and tell me to snap out of it. One bad month shouldn't make me a bitter bitch but unfortunately, LJ is taking the beating. I've been super inspired lately in the creative department but not having any time lately is delaying my ideas. And I'm definitely not going to sit on my ass and tweet/instagram/bore you to death with inspirational bullshit. That shit is not fun to me. In the meantime, I'll just complain and cry into my whiskey. That's always fun.