Don’t you hate it when you are just having a total fucking uninspirational day? You know when nothing seems exciting, nothing seems shiny (even diamonds) and everything just seems like far too much fucking effort? Well I’m having one of those days today but here I am sitting here torturing myself trying to come up with things to say and not let you my loyal fickle reader down. You’re fucking welcome. I have a feeling this is my body’s way of trying to entice me into another piece of cake or something else, which actual simple sugar composition would have me back on another epic sugar high. My body is tricky like that, it thinks it knows better than my brain, though my brain IS technically part of my body, so maybe they have a point. The only thing that is stopping me from going on another carb binge, well other than the possibility of death, is the total clusterfuck that is the come down. It starts with the mother of all headaches, I become THE bitch from hell, not to be confused with the bitch I am normally who is also from hell and I’m MEAN. Like REALLY mean and there doesn’t need to be a reason for it. It just is. Normally when I’m mean, there is a damn good reason and it’s because you’ve managed to piss me off. The sugar high come down type of mean might just happen because I don’t like the way the new set of forks I bought look. They make epic projectiles and even more dangerous weapons. So if you ever come to our house and wonder why the cutlery draw is padlocked shut, it’s because I’ve had sugar in the past 12 hours and MrBmB has had to take precautionary measures. Because at times like that I really would cut someone.
So I’m sitting here, again still waiting for Thursday to roll around and for work to begin. Children’s TV is on in the background and again I’m convinced that people who produce children’s TV shows have to be on some really really good drugs. This shit is so fucking off the wall, as an adult it makes no sense to me, how is my 17 month old going to understand? Or maybe that’s the ruse, they know the kids aren’t going to understand it and honestly he parents aren’t going to watch it, so why both have it make fucking sense? In The Night Garden is currently on, there are characters like Iggle Piggle, Upsy Daisy, Maka Paka, Tombliboos, they live in a Ninkynonk (glorified camper van) and drink Pinkyponk juice. I challenge anyone to tell me that there isn’t some heavy drug use in the creation of these things. Fuck hand me the Pinkyponk Juice, I think I might just try a swig of that shit. Sugar avoidance be dammed!
I also know that I have to go to the grocery store today, which is also pissing me off no end. For two reasons. ALL the beautiful carb laden foods that are just sitting there taunting me, tempting me and making me question how bad a coma might be. It’s just like a really long sleep right? Hell I could do with a sleep in, it really doesn’t seem that bad. Though I would have to end up in hospital and they are full of germs. I’m sure as soon as my comatose body hit the doors of the Emergency Room, I would wake up in a panicked germaphobe state and start screaming at the medical professionals “unclean, unclean”. Hopefully they would write this off as the sugar talking and not my total lunacy, cause that would end me up in another totally different hospital. But as sure as they cut open that golden goose, I’d be off of the gurney and running for my life from all those germs, super bugs and anything else I might be able to catch on the way through. Do you think if I flip out enough that the ER doc would write me a huge Valium prescription in the parking lot, wearing gloves, after using the alcohol rub? Because that just might work for me and I need to jot this down just in cause I ever decide I need more Valium, they won’t give me Xanax I’ve been blacklisted, for future reference. I really need a “for future reference” journal that I put all this shit in, it really would be handy. Though then I’d need to leave a note to remind me where I had left the journal and notes as to where I’d left the notes. Actually it would be like a treasure hunt. With no real treasure. Nope, no dice, gotta be shiny and diamond’s involved for it to be a treasure hunt. Oh the second reason is people btw.
They say diamonds are a girls best friend. I have to agree to a point and then also to disagree because while I DO love them, I would also argue designer handbags are also a girls best friend. I LOVE LOVE LOVE them and invest FAR too much of our (by our I mean my.. what’s mine is mine and what’s his is mine) money in them. Notice I say invest, because to spend would be wasteful, but investing means that I one day will get some money back. I would suggest it wouldn’t be what I paid, though I NEVER pay full retail, but the enjoyment I get for them would make up for the shortfall. The poor guy that marries Miss 4 is in for a real treat. I don’t think she thinks handbags come in any other variety other than designer. If it doesn’t have a Chanel, Jimmy, Louis, Givinchey, YSL, Stella, Prada, Burberry, Gucci, Fendi, Versace or Mulberry in the title, then she won’t believe it’s actually a real bag. It will be a sack to carry potato’s. Though fortunately for the future daughter in laws, or unfortunately cause they will have me for a mother in law, sons’ all think the same way. So those girls are in for a treat!
Do you ever, if you’re a parent, wonder what kind of In law you are going to make? See I have no idea and I’ve actually given this a lot of thought. I could be the worst kind, worse than my MIL. Well maybe? I’m certainly crazy, but she is evil. Could my actual level of crazy lend me to be an equivalent amount of crazy to her evil, toward my future children in law? Because man if it could, then I really would advise them not to marry my kids and stay the fuck away. Though that in itself seems a lot like my mother in law. Or I might be the exact opposite and take them into my nurturing arms and treat them like my own children. Ahh fuck then they are in trouble then too, cause while I love my kids and they know it and nurture well, its not all hugs and cuddles and kisses. Like I’ve said before they are disease riddle little petrie dishes and that makes me all types of itchy. So we settle for spoony cuddles so they aren’t breathing on me, no one can breathe on me, fuck I hate that. Kisses to the cheeks and forehead cause I’m not sharing spit, ugh! Lots of encouraging pats on the heads and back pats. I have mainly boys so I can get away with this. Plus MrBmB is über tactile, so what I lack in tactile he makes up for in spades. In fact he pretty much makes them more needy for it. Can’t have that. A daughter who is needy for physical attention is just a prostitute waiting to happen. Lucky for her she is gorgeous, no I don’t have Mummy goggles on, so she can settle for being a model. No need to sink to stripper or prostitute level for attention. She at 4, literally stops traffic and is always being told how pretty she is, so she know it too. So she has the diva attitude to match. With my genetics who am I kidding, it’s going to take one hell of a man to tame that one. Good-luck with that. MrBmB is still trying. I sense some serious issues when she is a teenage about who is the alpha female in this house and MrBmB having a total soft spot for her is going to be no use. I just repeat the words “princess bitch face syndrome”, “do you want her to become your sister” or even worse “do you want her to be a mini-MrsBmb” whenever she tries to manipulate him. Of course he’s still not listening, but once she hits 12, cause we all know that’s the age that girls turn into hormonal balls of crazy, then she is all his, cause I warned him. Don’t come to me begging for help.
Holy shit the day just got brighter, I just got a delivery and it’s alcohol. Good wine to be exact. I kind of won, more like tied, a bet and this is my prize. Mount Mary Quintet x 6 bottles. Now the real struggle is going to be trying not to drink them. These ARE really investment wines, they are already a good plonk, but give them 5 years and they will be exceptional. But they look really really tempting. The same section of my brain that entices me into the carbs and had me purchase 6, yes 6, Phone 6’s is calling out to me to just give one a try. The issue is you can’t just have a drop, you have to drink the whole bottle and I’m not sharing with MrBmB. It’s after midday and midweek, so drinking is acceptable. But should I? Or should I hold out on the investments. I have 6 times, one per bottle, to make this decision and I have a feeling the investment card isn’t going to win out on this one for at least one of the bottles. Then it will have to be 2 cause they NEED to be in even numbers. Though on second thoughts, I could just purchase a bottle and keep the rest there and no harm, no foul and no one wold be any the wiser. Where the fuck did I put that ideas journal? Did I even start one? Argh!
I really should be reading through CV’s picking at who I’m going to have on my research team for this project for my new job. They have already been vetted by someone under me, so I know they all meet some specific standards and are also colour coded in their area of strengths, so I know I have all bases covered. I think I will just pick 6-12 at random, 2 of each colour code and put the rest in the bin. As a friend once advised me, do this cause you should never work with unlucky cunts. I will then go one step further and pull a random file out of the bin, they are now a really lucky cunt and put them as second in charge. They will displace one of the same colour code, who in all actuality is an unlucky cunt, a really unlucky one. I just really hope that there are not too many women in that pile of researchers I end up with, because I hate women, they are bitches. I don’t get along with other bitches, because at some point they decide they want to be me and they just can’t so we end up in the imitation is the sincerest form of flattery territory and we all know how that ends. Hey did I even ever publish that blog or just write it? I actually think I just wrote it. So hey, something for you to look forward to I guess, if I can find it…. Why the fuck am I SO disorganised with OCD? It’s like my compulsion is to torture myself by driving myself batty by forgetting things. Don’t ever assume this comes to my work, stats or anything I’ve read, eidetic memory, so it all gets stored there for better or for worse. Which is another reason why I hate reading dumb things on the internet, cause they are stuck in my brain for life?! No one knows exactly how much memory we actually have, but I’m going to assume it’s finite and as sure as shit the stuff I want to remember later will get pushed out for the useless and stupid crap that’s in there. Though I hope Spider Dog is in there for eternity cause that thing is gold.
On that note, I’m going to go and rewatch Spider Dog and see if I can find that imitation post… Wherever it may be….