Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Carpet Powder--the New Cocaine

I'm a little high right now.

Not from drugs or alcohol and, unfortunately, not from orgasmic sex, but from carpet powder fumes.

My husband has been a shitty househusband lately. I do understand why. It's a boring job. When I was laid off I kept the house spotless for about three months. After that it was garbage city. But the living room was making me crazy. We have two dogs. They smell. My husband is a slob. He is incabable of drinking something without spilling it. So our carpet is stained, the furniture smells like dog and all the flat surfaces are sticky.

But no more.

But I think my lungs are completely lined with that carpet powder crap.

Shit. I am boring now.

We are going to a post-reception party for our neighbors. As if wedding crap isn't complicated enough. So these folks had a wedding (which was private, only immediate family and close friends), a reception (for family and friends) and now a party (for everyone else they know). Of course we don't know them that well (they live across the street) so we were invited to this. Of course, they told J, who was re-assuring me yesterday that it wasn't for a couple of weeks. Because it was the 27th. UM. That's tomorrow cupcake. So we went and got their wedding gift.

When doing the registry I felt even better about not being invited to the real reception. Because God help us we weren't sure of her name. It's amazing how many times you can talk to some one about so many things and not know their name. We knew his name is Chris but I thought her name was Larice and J thought it was Narissa. It's Laresa. Heh.

They live across the street. It's not like we are best friends or anything. Our dog is in love with their dog.

But I am glad we are going because they are really nice. And the only real couple our age--at least without any kids.

J also told me the wrong date for his cousin's wedding. So we are going to hillbilly country on the 10th of next month. Excuse me while I do backflips of joy.

It will be ok.

I just keep repeating that to myself.

I went to grocery store this morning without brushing my hair or teeth. I was wearing sweatpants and my face was all greasy. Seven different men hit on me.

What the fucking hell!?!?!??!

Apparently, the messy, unwashed look is SEXY.

Why the fuck to I bother with anything at all?

11:17 a.m. :: comment ::
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