I'm Cheerful Today. WTF?

Today was the first day of summer hours, and I was actually happy this morning. WTF? I came skipping into work at 7:20am all cheerful and shit. I think we can all rest assured that that won’t last.

Who knows why the fuck I’m so happy. I mean – I’m coming into work earlier, leaving later, and I couldn’t sleep for shit last night. And some dude almost wrecked into me on the way in during his epic I Am A Dickhead traffic maneuver. And immediately afterward, I got stuck in a traffic jam caused by two assholes having an asshole contest. And I looked at myself in the mirrored elevator doors and discovered that my selection of pants gives me polterwang. I should be a way bigger bitch than usual. And yet I’m cheerful!! Talk to me at 10:30.

The good mood can probably be at least partially attributed to the fact that I had a nice, relaxing weekend. I am usually being pulled in so many directions, especially during holidays. And this time around, there were no picnics or parties that had to rush around to, and as much as I love a good party, I loved no party even more. I still visited and cooked out and did stuff, but it was all on my terms, and oh how I love it when it’s all on my terms!!

My cousin Lala came over on Friday with the cutest baby around, who was named after me (in my head). I loved having him at my house without the whole family around, so I don’t have to fight with everyone to get my hands on him. I mean – I had to fight my kids, but I am bigger than them and control their computer time and food supply, so whatever – I win! I got to nibble on tiny toes all I wanted, and Baby Gina (in my head) had a great time visiting and watching me drink a shitload of beer. Although I have to say, the kid wasn’t much help around the house. I mean, the least he could have done was pick up some dirty dishes or fetch me a beer, right? Raise your kid right, Lala!

Saturday…I can’t remember Saturday. There were stitches (mr b) and hockey and beer. That’s all I know. Oh, and I danced with the dog a little. He kind of hates it, but I think that’s only because he’s a shitty dancer and totally has four left feet. But I dance with him anyway because 1) he’s a dog and I don’t give a shit whether he likes it or not because if dogs are not for dancing, then what good are they??, and 2) because if there is anyone out there whose dancing makes mine look good, then by god, I will be dancing with them.

Speaking of beer-fetching, Hedge came over on Sunday night, and we were sitting on the porch drinking when The Girl came out and asked if she could get us a beer. Hedge, whose children are clearly not properly trained in beer-fetching, teared up and whispered, “Oh! She’s precious.” Of course, having a beer-fetching child has it’s downside, since laziness often helps slow down the drinking (because you’re over here and the beer’s over there), but when you have an eager beer-fetcher, it was only about 20 minutes in before we were yelling at passing cars like the crazy old lady that lives next to your grandma and has baby dolls hanging from nooses in her trees and wears her nightgown outside, backwards, and steals your ball when it goes in her yard.

And it was only 40 minutes before we decided that jumping on the trampoline in the pitch black darkness was a great idea. And it totally was. You know, in my head, I can still do all the same flips and tricks I would do when I was a (hot, skinny) 16 year old gymnast. And I totally would have been able to if it wasn’t dark, and the trampoline wasn’t wet, and the kids weren’t in the way. Plus I didn’t want to make Hedge feel bad in the face of my superior athleticism.

OK, fine, I’m old and fat and I’ve had a couple of kids and I was afraid I’d pee myself. I hope you’re happy now!! But other than that, I totally could have pulled it off.

I have photos, but I won’t be sharing them since we look approximately exactly like you would expect two drunk middle aged ladies jumping on a trampoline to look. And I might need Hedge for an alibi sometime in the future and I can’t afford to piss her off. If I get drunk enough this week, maybe I’ll share my mid-front flip action shot. I know your lives won’t be the same without it.

Monday, the boy had to get up for Scouts and Band participation in the Memorial Day services. For the past…oh…6000 years, I have been the one getting up at the crack of dawn to do this but this time was mr b’s turn. By which I mean, I still got up to make sure everyone was up and getting ready, fretted over the fact that mr b had no clue of when to be there, got the girl up and ready, and headed out in time to make it to the main service (they go to each local memorial) and then listen to mr b sigh all martyr-like about having one more service while I whole-heartedly didn’t give a shit.

I continued to not give a shit, and went home to lie around, drink beer and eat everything I wanted, since today is D-Day and I need to lose 70 pounds by June 10^th. I’m sure I can do it. I mean, I am already 5 ½ hours into my day and I drank half my water and ate a disgusting yogurt, so I expect I should be down about 16 pounds already. I’m nothing if not optimistic.

Also on Monday, I couldn’t find the remote, and since I forget the days of when you walked to the TV and changed channels I watched a whole bunch of shows like Monsterquest, which are basically modern day In Search Of* where they look for the yeti and the chupacabra and mothman and the kraken and shit. And they should just call that show We Can’t Find It, because here’s how the show goes: they talk about some creature, then they show some drawings of the creature from 1870, then they have reenactments or people seeing the creature, then they talk to scientists who are like, HAHAHAHAHA and then they send some dudes into the wilderness with cameras, and they walk around all, “it could totally be right around that bend,” and then they interview some 1) crazy people, 2) tribal elders, or 3) some guy that wrote a book and wears an aluminum foil hat, and then they set up a trap with a night camera and they wake up in the morning to find a cat or a raccoon in it, and then ****SPOILER ALERT**** They cant find it.

* anyone else old enough to remember In Search Of?