Yesterday was an off day for me. Now, I don’t want to go blaming Mommy-Juice Tuesday for all of it, but I do think it at least played a part in just how off-y I was feeling.
I was so off, in fact, that I could not even blog. Don’t get me wrong, I TRIED, because blogging is like some sort of sick addiction and I need to get my fix of it or my hands start to get all shaky and sweaty and I get this hideous little tick in my face (no, not really), but I could not come through. About a paragraph in I realized the ultimate suckage that was staring back at me from the computer screen I realized I had to give up and walk away or people would begin to point and laugh.
The rest of the day was really a wash, and when i’m feeling that shitty, I go to my standby most awesomely awesome cureall- Taco Bell.
Yeah yeah, those of you who hate it just do not understand the deep and meaningful relationship between the two of us. That’s ok, you don’t have to understand our forbidden love. I will love it enough for everyone.
One word could describe my dinner: foodgasmic. And much to possibly everyone’s shock, I felt GREAT afterward. Still tired from staying up so damn late (really, I have to stop doing that. THINK OF THE CHILDREN!) My head wasn’t fuzzy or headachy anymore, I felt full and pleased with the world once again. This is why I swear Taco Bell has crack in it. Not that I care.
All was well and good, rainbows butterflies and a pissy couch made out of fucking marshmallows until I went to get ready for bed. Brushing my teeth, tra-la-la, in my happy place and then I feel it. My stomach sinks. And not the kind of sinks that happens when you find out you’ve been caught picking your nose in public- but the kind of sink where you KNOW, from the bowels of your being, that sooner rather than later your ass is going to explode. And it’s not going to be pretty.
My solution to impending doom? I went to bed and prayed to keep the poop Gods at bay. Maybe by morning my colon would have forgotten that it hated me so much and would bring me peace.
If you know anything about me- you know I am severely lacking in the luck department- so you know I did not get my wish.
Not long after waking up- and by waking up I mean dragging myself out of bed due to lack of sleep due to tummy troubles (and having the ever living fuck scared out of me by a spider in the medicine cabinet)- I was greeted with the pleasant treat of my insides attempting to evacuate through my ass.
It was a full on colon exorcism.
The poop was so strong it even rubbed off on someone else and got THEM pooping- yes, it was in fact that serious.
I was already exhausted from shitty (pun intended) sleep, but now I was exhausted from the full body poos that I had just completed.
|yeah, it’s kinda like that.|
I NEEDED COFFEE.
It’s not that I have some unholy addiction to it. I, on most days, am not even sure it amps up my energy- but I like to convince myself that it helps get me out of drag-ass state and at least gets me on the path to partial motivation. Coffee had become a ritual around here. And I wanted to have it because I felt like if I didn’t get some kind of caffeine into my system, I would collapse. We don’t keep soda in this house when it isn’t drinking nights, so that was out of the question- plus i’m psychotically weird about not drinking soda in the morning (or eating dinner foods around breakfast time… although I will eat breakfast at dinner time. Who the fuck knows. I’m just weird, ok?)
I needed the coffee, but coffee when your bowels have been waging war on the toilet all morning already?? That’s just asking for trouble isn’t it? I could see where that road was heading, and it was a direct path to Hemorrhoid City. Population: Me.
This is how important that caffeine boost was to me: I drank it anyway.
It was like one of those slow motion moments in an over-the-top-cheesetacular action movies where the bank robber, or hitman, or some kind of buffed up grimy bad guy is about to shoot someone and the hero dives in the way of the bullet.
Oh yes, I did. I did and I knew full well the consequences of my actions. I expected the apocalypse would begin, starting with an eruption from my sphincter. I expected the toilet to burst under the weight of a full body upheaval. Sting ring to the 10th power.
And then it happened… Nothing. No toot, no shart, no shooting liquid fire from my rear- NOTHING. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a tad disappointed- all that build up for nothing?
Or, could it possibly be possible, GASP, that coffee- the natural laxative– CURED my diarrhea?
Yeah, I won’t be getting my hopes up there either. My best bet would be that my poor poop chute just couldn’t take anymore and my bitch of a stomach sighed and said “FINE! Baby.”
A girl can dream though, right?
Person on tv: Age is just a number! 10yo: Yeah, a number that pulls you closer to death.
Party animal over here pic.twitter.com/OVpKPuu4Yc
Proving to my kids that they ARE Friends goo.gl/fb/QbSSNp
Writing my next book Me: My period inspired a whole new chapter! Husband: Your lack of period inspired a whole book... Me: pic.twitter.com/fpNHwnYeAF
The card my kid made me at school. I truly don't know why I expected anything different 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/T7nai0ycqS
Valentine's Day before 4pm and I'm already putting on pajamas because my uterus is bloated to the size of a Buick and erupting like Mount Vesuvius so I guess you could say I'm feeling PRETTY romantic.