Last night I only slept for about 3 1/2 hours, and ya know what? Getting only 3 1/2 hours of sleep is definitely going on my list of things that totally suck balls. I’m gonna make it #17. Right between losing your balance while doing the hover pee in a truck stop bathroom, and Paris Hilton.
So last night I was up late feeding my addiction to Pinterest, and I didn’t fall asleep until sometime after 12:30. Then around 4:00 AM I woke up because I was having a nightmare in which I was in the shower and puffer fish were coming out of the shower head instead of water and they were floating up to the ceiling like balloons until The Cat went balls to the wall and jumped super high and popped one with her claws and it fell on my head then started to eat my hair, which was probably due to the fact that my new shampoo smells like a mother effing pineapple/coconut cake, and if I coulda reached it with my mouth I most likely woulda eaten it too. So then the shower door flew open and it was that giant dude that married Kim Kardashian for 5 minutes, and he said “Don’t worry. I’ve got this!” And then he started swinging his belt at the puffer fish and he accidentally hit me in the eye with the buckle and then I punched him in the underballs. Then the next thing I know I woke up in bed in the Michael Jackson pose. You know the pose:
I had my left hand on my head and my right hand on my crotch. And my legs were all twisty like this too. And my left shoulder is the one I had surgery on and I am not supposed to have that arm over my head. So when I woke up that arm hurt like balls, so I got up to stretch it and to go pee and then I thought about the dream and then voila! I was wide awake. And I would really appreciate it if someone would analyze my dream, but please don’t say that I was thinking about that big Kardashian lover and fondling my in-between. Cuz I wasn’t. It was more like a self-protective grasp that I had on it. So I’m pretty sure it was just due to fear and had absolutely nothing to do with anything sexual. Cuz believe me when I tell you that that dude has nothing that is attractive to me in the slightest bit.
And now I think I’m protesting this too much. Which is only gonna make you guys think that I actually DO have the hots for that giant moron. So I’m just gonna quit while I’m ahead.
So anyways, I haven’t written much lately because of the aforementioned Pinterest addiction as well as my addiction to my Facebook Fan Page and the fact that I have also had mucho trouble sitting still as of late. Xmas is a time of flashing lights and colors and music and smells. All of which distract the hell out of me. Just Sunday I was doing my annual bake-a-rama when I heard something peculiar and wandered off to investigate, then forgot what I was doing, then did some other stuff, then went back into the kitchen to crack my 8 eggs and there were only 7, then remembered that when I wandered off I had one in my hand. So then I had to go find the lost egg. Then I imagined that the egg’s name was Private Ryan and that I was Tom Hanks and I was on a mission to save him. And it kinda went just like it went in that movie, but with less getting shot in the head, more getting pawed at by a cat, and it only took about 5 minutes instead of 3 hours. Or however long that movie took. Alls I remember is that it was long. So I found Private Ryan next to the telephone and I deduced from his position that he was trying to make a call for help because he didn’t wanna be part of my Almond Joy Bread. But since he had neither hands nor mouth, he was pretty much f@cked.
So another thing I did recently, which I don’t think I mentioned yet, is I went to Mexico for Thanksgiving. Just me, The Hub, and The Boy. And it was pretty fantastic if you subtract the fact that I caught a cold on day three and got flipper raped by a sea lion on day 4.
This picture was taken post-flipper rape. As you can see, I had decided to forgive her due to the fact that I was pretty flirty with her earlier and I was also very scantily clad. I think there was some sort of miscommunication or something. And even with the flipper rape, I still like the sea lions better than the dolphin. Which is weird. Cuz I have always wanted a pet dolphin ever since I watched Flipper as a kid. But ya know what? The dolphin tank smelled like shit, and the dolphin really couldn’t have given a ding dong dilly that we were in there. The sea lions really showed the love. Yes, possibly too much love, but the dolphin was like, “whatever.” There was definitely not enough personality in that dolphin for me. If that had been a date I would not have gone out with him again. Well, to be fair, I probably wouldn’t have gone out with the sea lion again either. Ya know, because of the whole flipper rape situation. But I might have made out with her later, then denied it and not taken her calls the next day.
So then we came back to America and nothing much happened until my Gusband Casey took me and my girls out to the drag bar for an early birthday-palooza. Since I usually wear very little make-up due to the fact that I have a short attention span for application and have been known to leave the house with one mascara-d and eyelinered eye and one plain, and I also have no idea what the frick I’m doing, I decided to treat myself and have someone do my make-up for me. And while it was quite beautiful, I was not used to seeing myself made up like that and was 99% sure that I looked like a prostitute. But definitely a high class one and not one of the ones you see on “Cops.” And that wasn’t due to the make-up inasmuch as it was due to the fact that I was wearing my Emmy shoes and those f@ckers were VERY expensive and no “Cops” ho is gonna be wearing those things. At least not unless Richard Gere gave her his credit card to go to Gucci or something. Which in 1990 we all learned was totally a possibility.
How many girls do you think THAT screwed up?
Anyways….Casey took us to my Xanadu and we even had a table reserved for us on the stage. It was awesome. The MC (who was also a performer and also blind and also missed an amazing opportunity to perform the theme to Ice Castles) brought me up to chat about my birthday and we each had a shot…
Then she brought me back up again later and told me to sit down on a speaker. And this happened:
So I got dry stage raped only a few weeks after getting wet sea lion raped. And this one hurt more. And had an audience who was chanting my name. And when he pushed me down on my back, my head was under that Christmas Wreath and there were balls smacking me in the face and i just kept yelling “There’s balls slapping me in the face!” Because that was just so hilarious to me at that moment that I almost peed my pants. Which would have been even more awkward than being dry-humped so hard on a stage in a bar full of people chanting your name, that your crotch hurts the next day. Probably.
And I think that pretty much catches you guys up on what I’ve been doing instead of writing on here. Minus a few funny little stories that I already told on Facebook and don’t feel like telling again even though you are totally missing out on them if you aren’t on my Mom Brain Facebook page. But that is really your problem and not mine, because while I do consider myself quite a Superwoman, I do not always have the energy to repeat my stories unless I am drinking beer and have an audience. In that case, it’s on like Donkey Kong. Whatever the hell that means.
So now I’m gonna go cuz I have a sleep-deprivation-induced-mega-headache and I need to go take some Advil and drink a beer and chill. Oh. And do 3 loads of laundry and empty the dishwasher and wrap some presents and all that stuff. And Wednesday is my 40th birthday so I am going to take the day off, but I am going to TRY to post you guys one more blog on Thursday, before I start the holiday drinking coma.
See how much I dig you guys?
|Thanks to my sweet Casey for planning a special night for me two years in a row, and to my friends Jenny, Stephanie and Kris for braving the drag bar to hang out with me, and my sister Lindsy for joining the fun later (the floating head on my right shoulder). And also a shout out to Brandon (who you can see all fuzzy behind Casey) for coming along and shoving his tongue down my throat.