And for my next trick...

This week's recap:
Lea goes into the hospital Sunday.
We stay home Monday to recover and visit her Doctor. She's fine.
I get sick Tuesday from bad Chinese food. Let me rephrase. I vomit at work, go home, vomit some more, then vow to never again consume sweet and sour chicken and/or start feeling the overwhelming desire to burn the restaurant down in retaliation.
Wednesday I feel fine again. But Lea's up all night with ear pain.
Thursday Lea misses school, Motrin solves the problem.
Friday I wake up feeling like God punched me in the ovaries in the middle of the night, 5 days early.

In retrospect I should have just laughed at my OB when he asked about the tubal ligation. Like, really? Just "tying things up"? Why fuck not just pull it out like those multi-colored handkerchiefs hack magicians pull out of their sleeves, only at the end it would be, you know, my inner lady parts instead of a rabbit or butterflies or something else gay. Granted it's much bloodier and I have no idea how that would fit up a sleeve but I think it would generate the same amount of applause. I'd give it a standing ovation (see what I did there? Ovaries, ovation... Fuck people, C'mon!). Basically, what I'm trying to say is I'M NOT HAVING MORE KIDS WHY IN THE BLUE HELL SHOULD I STILL SUFFER EVERY MONTH?
Not cool, God. Really? 5 days early? Way to be Mr. Efficient.
Is this because I called you the Lorf Jebus in an e-mail yesterday because I both mistyped and made a joke out of it? 'Cause that shit was funny. If you can't take a joke then what the fuck is up with the platypus?

I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but self soothing with just sugar-free red bull and twizzler bits doesn't work in this scenario. Unless you get to throw it at people.

I think it's safe to say I'm not fit for humans nor should I be allowed to use my debit card today.
Shit. Look out... the Red Bull is gone.

OH MY GOD I HAVEN'T BLOGGED IN A MONTH

What the hell is wrong with me?? *sigh*

What happened in the last month... well, shit.

My friend Thomas had her baby. There was drama.

The father of my children took our kids overnight for the first time in a long time. There was drama. While it wasn't his fault, spending the day in the ER with my daughter for stomach pains and high fever was an ultimate sucktastrophe and in the end she was fine.

My boyfriend went out of town for work for the first time since I've moved in and IT WAS HORRIBLE. I slept with the lights on. I'm such a p-word.

I went to two birthday parties and a Holiday party at a martini bar all in one day and didn't hurt myself or anyone else. I'm pretty sure I should get some kind of award or medal or patch with high score written on it. Just a suggestion.

We painted my daughters room. It's pink, of course. We get to Lowe's and she runs up to the color section that should have said 'Most Expensive Colors in the Fucking Place' above it and grabs the one she can't live without. Thank you, "Berry Much" (the paint color).

I think that sums it up, so don't cry about not knowing my life's details because, really? It was pretty fucking boring. And filled with drama. But the boring drama shit no one likes to hear.

I spent yesterday afternoon heaving Chinese food, which I'm going to dub poisonous, hence forth. I will miss you, Egg Rolls. Today my lunch consists of a can of soup I can't bring myself to open (for fear the smell will trigger my gag reflex) and an icee of the blue raspberry persuasion. I love saying that word. Rasp-berry.

I want to have people over for Super Bowl, I think... but I'm conflicted because I've slipped into hating everyone again and just want to make a bunch of fun food for Capt. Awesome and I and drink beers and get fat and watch some football. The last time I stopped talking to everyone I cut all my hair off. This will never happen again. Mostly because I've learned it's much more constructive to just get a new tattoo instead.

Next Post: My New Tattoo.