Tune in Tonight at 8:00 for this week’s episode of ‘Acceptance!’
Swear to Goddess I am fucking baffled and bemused by life.
I had to send my daughter to live in Mayberry with her dad.
I’m bankrupt (financially and morally but not intellectually) and for the first time in 15 years live in a fucking apartment and not a house that I own. My Jeep is going to disappear any day now.
All this after 11+ years of NOT drinking.
I have more issues than a newsstand so at least there’s still that whole literary thing going for me.
Started back to meetings on Monday though. Eeeesh.
God grant me the serenity to not kick your ass for mentioning Jesus again.
Oh well it’s what I can do to shut my head off for an hour.
So here I sit at 4:00 pm writing in my chemise sipping a glass of club soda, as opposed to Max who sips diet coke and vodka. Maybe I can go to the embassy and claim Dipsomaniac Immunity.
Luckily all hope is not gone: There ARE worse things.
1. I could be my ex-husband. Either one!
a) Lucky Ex-husband Number One: graduate degree with an MBA from Baruch. Makes 10.00 an hour as an assistant manager of a market in a tiny resort town. His troll wife is an evil bitch, as opposed to an everyday/garden variety bitch such as myself. Their daughter is mildly autistic. Okay there is no MILDLY autistic. The kid is totally sideways. So are they for not admitting it and taking steps to help the poor child.
b) Lucky Ex-Husband Number Two: An utter sociopath with the charm of a Prince, the looks of a rock star (no NOT Mick Jagger a good-looking rock star), an astute and true eye for detail, color, and craftsmanship and a deep appreciation of American history and nature. Of course he has also been known to eat roadkill, break my nose, bake squirrels in the oven for his dinner, alienate every person he initially charms and befriends, and is about to marry a woman with FOUR –count ‘em FOUR!- young children. Heh. Oh yeah his house is being repossessed because I no longer support him.
2. I could be dead. Uhhhh I may have to re-think this one.
3. I could be this total dumbass who drowned while trying to grab his cell phone out of a storm drain. He weighed 300 pounds and got wedged in. Call for Mister Darwin. Phone call for Mister Darwin.
4. I could live in Florida! Right there I got a smile out of myself.
5. I could weigh 300 pounds AND live in Florida.
6. Okay there is no number six but maybe I’ll come up with something later.
Life goes up and down. It’s the lows that make it hard to get though the days and nights.
God I fell asleep at the computer last night. Nice. The last email I’d sent got such a laugh out of TK that he has threatened to keep the damned thing. It’s a mishmash of misspellings and repeated and half finished sentences. I never proofread or spellchecked it. Grrrrr.
Can’t get ahold of Tinfoil Hat Client today so I’m clearly not going to get a check this week,
Guess it’s back to work at the Wild Orchid as a stripper. Luckily the management is cool there and lets me work two shifts.
The fine gentlemen throw money on stage along with my clothes and yell
“Hey babe! Put it back on! Put it ALL on!”
~Miss ‘blaze starr’ R