I’m pretty sure every one of you who reads this crazy ass blog has wondered to yourself, “Hmmm. I wonder what it would be like to live in Draz’s head for a day.” Right? No? Ugh. Whatever. Just play along, mkay?
Here you go – these are all things that have gone through and happened to my PMS-infested brain in the last 24 hours. Anyone who says that PMS isn’t real can suck my left toe. Twice.
*As I told my 12 year old that she’d be staying overnight with her Aunt for a fun night doing makeup, hair and nails she said to me, “I don’t want to go. My nails are already done.” I replied, “Fine. Sit in the corner and stare at the wall then.” Satan is her father. I’m sure of it.
*As I was getting ready to leave the house this morning, the 7 year old looked at me in horror and said,”Mmmoooooommm, you’re not wearing that to work today, are you?” YES – SNOTLICKER – I AM. I thought about explaining that my Vic Sec yoga pants and oversized Harley Davidson shirt are part of casual day but I decided to smack her instead. I’m kidding. Geez.
*Last night I was telling Rambo that for Valentine’s Day I’d just like him to say something romantic in words – out of his mouth or in a love note. He turns over – grabs my face in his hands – and says, “I kinda like you. You’re good people. I’m going to put you in my keeper file.” WHAT THE F*CK WAS THAT?? I seriously hate him sometimes. He is NOT funny.
*Why the F do hard-boiled eggs smell like ASS when you peel them? I eat them in my office and I want to put up a sign that says, “I just ate a hard-boiled egg. No – I did not shit my pants. I leave that to the people with penises around here. Move along or get shanked.”
*There is a job ad in our local paper that no shit – starts like this: HOUSEWIVES: need extra income? Seriously? So if you’re not a housewife – you can’t apply? Housewives don’t need extra income – they need EXTRA appreciation and EXTRA shoes and purses and massages – not your EXTRA handouts. If you’re a man – can you apply? If you’re a wife but you work outside of the house – can you apply? I have no idea why this bothered me – but it did.
*As I ate pizza last night for the FIRST time since January 1st (real take out pizza vs a Smart One) – my brain inside was exploding and yelling: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? YOU KNOW THIS IS WRONG ON SO MANY LEVELS. YOU’RE GOING TO GAIN BACK 10 POUNDS OVERNIGHT WITH THESE TWO PIECES. HEIFER!” I can be really mean to myself sometimes. Blame the PMS.
*As I ordered my pretty little pink canister of mace to carry when I run outside I wondered to myself if I could use it on my co-worker Martha Stewart across the hall. Then I figured she’d tell me before I sprayed her with it that she’d need to get out her perfectly crocheted hanky first. And I’d allow her that courtesy because you know – you don’t mess with Martha Stewart. She survived prison, remember?
*As I was getting yet another migraine last night my only thought was, “That’s it. I’m cutting off my head. It’s just not worth it anymore. There’s nothing of value in there anyway.”
*When Rambo hugged and kissed me at 4am this morning to say goodbye I held on to him and wouldn’t let go and I mumbled, “Please don’t go.” He chuckled and said, “ I have to.” Asshole. Screw you and your honorable sense of responsibility. Get out of my bed.
*When my girls asked me to replay a Pink song this morning my brain said, “No. You were mean to me a second ago. You suck. Everyone on this planet sucks.” In real life – I put the song on because I couldn’t tolerate the whining if I didn’t and because I love Pink with everything in me. She hates everyone too but she gets paid to feel that way. I want to be her. And have you seen her abs? I die.
*Lastly, as I drove into work today my thought was, “I wonder if I just drive into that snowbank real soft like – just enough to put a little scratch on my head in a place that wouldn’t scar – if they’d make go to the hospital and sedate me with high doses of pain meds for about 7 days?” Sounds divine doesn’t it? Stupid, but divine.
There you go. Now aren’t you happy you aren’t in my head? Like ever?
It ain’t pretty in there. And there are no gumdrops. I swear.