Monday, August 3, 2009

Random Lies and a Picture

So, that beer is almost gone. In our defense, we had a friend over Sunday night and he totally has a drinking problem. That is a lie. But, seriously, how the fuck did we drink all that beer? It was probably all my fault too. I am not going to fall for it if someone approaches me about doing a documentary on addiction. I know your ploy, Intervention. And I, for one, am not buying it.

I also tried to kill my left arm this weekend. I managed to burn my forearm on the oven, get a blister on my thumb and pinky, get said blisters infected, and I am probably going to have to amputate. That is also totally a lie.

I rescheduled the cabin trip. The last time we scheduled this trip, I ended up in the hospital for five days. Is it weird that I am ridiculously nervous? I am doing so well with all this back bull shit. I am learning basic mechanics and retraining my body how to function without causing further damage. I have not had this positive of an outlook in years. I am still nervous. It is almost like there is a taboo around this trip. This trip I am so excited for. I love the idea of the two of us in the middle of nowhere with a cooler full of food and beer, the dogs, and each other. I already took off the WHOLE day, instead of working from home in the morning. The woman who owns the cabin is putting the deposit we lost towards this stay. We are going on my birthday. I mean, I changed the Karma, right? RIGHT? Oye.

I have nothing else of interest going on...I know, I know, I AM SO FUCKING BORING. I promise to do something completely fucking crazy in the next few days that will either make you stop reading or laugh your ass off. Or I may just work a lot, and become bitter and angry at corporate America until I go completely off the grid and you all can say, "You know, I used to read her blog. She was very disturbed." That may or may not be a lie.

This is the most random post in the history of ever. So, I leave you with the dry erase board that the boy and I use to keep track of what we need to pick up from the store. I am not very good at following instructions. Or rules. Or not swearing. I am a giant pain in the ass. (You may have to click on it to read my writing in blue)

Update: I couldn't click on the picture and it feels like a lot of work to figure it out. I am the worst blogger ever. So, it says:

The Boy: Dishwasher Soap
Erratic: You're Dishwasher Soap
The Boy: No I'm Not You Are (double exclamation point smiley)
Erratic: I'm made of rubber and you're made of glue, bitch.

Yes, I wonder why he loves me too.

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