How did my weekend suck? Let me count the ways:
1. My sis' soon-to-be ex showed up to "take Gillian for the weekend." Whatever, dumbass - go home. And he did. Tiny little tail tucked between his non-existant nether-regions...
2. On a scale of 1 - 100 - with 100 being "holy crap - you have the most rockingest Gallbladder EVER!" - I apparently scored a nine. A MOTHER F'N NINE!!! For the first time in my life I failed a test (besides my lerner's permit - and really- who gives a crap about THAT?!) and what does it cost me? My innards.
Sigh. And for those of you who haven't guessed by now - I'm a surg-a-phob. I don't like needles - so you can guess how I'm gonna react when they come at me with shinier, pointier things... As of right now - I don't know when my - gulp - surgery is going to be - but I'll keep ya posted... UGH.
3. Harry and I drove around, glass-top removed, in our pretty white 'vette. We stopped at the 'rents home where Harry tried to commit wifey-side by DROPPING THE FORTY POUND GLASS TOP ON MY FRICKIN' HEAD!!!
Now, at this point, I am still reeling from the idea of my insides coming to the outside - something I think is quite barbaric and I'm ONLY twenty-seven years young (shouldn't SOME of these parts of mine still be under some warranty??? C'mon - they're barely USED!!! ) so I start to bawl. Sitting in the pretty car with the pretty red interior - I cry - a lot.
"Quit tryin' to kill me!" I yell at my poor hubby as he fights to figure out which he should do first - put the top back in the trunk or check on my swelling concussion. He chooses the former and then comes over to me and keeps apologizing. I can't stop sniffing and snotting and dabbing at my running mascara with the tips of my sleeves. "Take me home," I finally get out.
He does - and I still can't stop. I'm off and running now and there's no stopping the waterfall of tears that's streaking my freckled face.
And then he takesoff his shirt.
And he's wearing a wife beater tank top.
I'm laughing, holding my head, and still crying.
4. Saturday morning (yes - we're only to Saturday) I run downstairs in my skivvies - hoping to God I've remembered to close the hideous powder blue blinds that over-look the neighborhood while I make my way to the laundry room to iron my dress pants. I have been suckered into judging a "Beautiful Faces" pageant and have no way out - so off I go - Wait - what the heck is that on the ceiling? It looked like a shadow - but then I noticed the water dripping and my signed Harry Potter posters (yes - I'm 12 - what's it to ya?!) were hanging off the wall - soaked as well.
I go flying up the stairs like a half-naked banshee screaming "HARRRRRY! HARRRRY! GET UP! WATER! WATER!"
Turns out the morons from Home Depot installed our new fridge so well that it crimped the water line and flooded our basement.
At this point - it was almost eleven and I had to be in Nitro at noon.
"Good luck" I said to my hubby and ran out the door.
Remembering at the last second to put on my pants.
5. On to the pageant from hell. I'll keep this simple. The kids were creepy. The mothers made typical pageant moms look like saints. And the director - with her tattoo of a bat holding a heart in its dripping mouth - was not impressed with us. "She shouldn't have won. And this girl can't win overall total - she's too young. I'm going to be shot in the parking lot." So she made up her own scores and then dragged my sis up on stage to help crown while shoving a digital camera in my face. Three hours later and a brush with a rabid lab - we were outta there. My only regret? I didn't tell the mom -IN LIME GREEN HOT PANTS - that her kid - the four year old - should never, ever, perform a stripper's routine - in patriotic wear.
6. I had to go to Sears. With Harry. 'nuff said.
7. Oh- yeah - and Friday night - I went to see XMEN3 - it was awesome - except for three little things. My side was still aching, they had the a/c cranked to "freezing of the asses off" and someone decided not to shower. Ever. In their entire, stinky life.
I think I'm going to change all the stickers on the outside of all public places to: "No shirts, no shoes, no deodorant - no service." I think it would be well-received - from the non-b.o. majority...
How was YOUR weekend?