Sunday, February 05, 2006

Getting Whacked, Cracked, and Manic

(((whew!))) Talk about a whirlwind weekend filled with birthday party prep, whacked out, cracked out drivers, and rude Generation Fuck You's! I am soooooo ready to do not one fucking thing, but as most of you are aware, that's a concept that generally doesn't apply to my life, as I'm sure it doesn't with yours.
Here are the Cliff Notes...
Friday was nightmarish in that everything I had planned for said birthday party sank like the Titanic. Luckily, an alternative plan came about where the family was taken to dinner and had a nice evening just spending time together, that is if you rule out the dinner portion of the evening for some (I'll be putting the post for Friday up later and it will explain everything.)
Most of yesterday was spent trying to tie up last minute birthday things, running all around this Godforsaken dustbowl in search of this item or that, running into one psychotic driver after another, and seemingly finding every manic hispanic in the mall and having to dodge their "I don't move for you, you move for me" attitude (but that's an entirely different post.) There was fast wrapping and ice cream cake buying, a couple of books here, the new Train and the first Shinedown CD's there, and hospital scrubs after hospital scrubs after hospital scrubs. Dinner was bought and eaten, presents were opened, an argument was started (and never finished,) and then things became quiet.
That is... until 1:30 A.M. when I woke up and stumbled into the kitchen for a drink only to find that the ice cream cake hadn't been put away. (((LMAO!))) It had melted EVERYWHERE! When I looked into the box, it was as if it had been completely consumed, it was just... just... gone. Gone and onto the counter, down the cupboard, and dripped onto the floor... gone!
11:00 A.M. rolled around and semi-fresh feeling me rolled out of bed, only to realize that a day of cleaning awaits me. Load bullet into chamber, cock hammer, rest against temple, grit teeth and close eyes, squeeze handle, and pull trigger. (((Click!))) Nothing. I grabbed a fucking cap gun by mistake.
I am still faced with cleaning the fucking house and so I must go. I'll post Friday and Saturday later in the day, so hang tight Napoleon Dynamite (BTW, I HATE that movie!)

1 Comments:

Blogger the depressed nurse said...

At least the cake was edible...everyone spit my birthday cake out on first bite.Literally, spit it out back onto their plate. It was the first ever.
You didn't say whose birthday it was by the way!!!

7:27 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home