Monday, March 15, 2010

Just one more reason I should stay away from organized religion and weddings.

I have food poisoning, which I got from a charity potluck at my dad's church. I find this utterly parallel to my life in a way that made me laugh, right after I brushed my teeth. There is no other explanation for my 4 am puke fest. No fever, no achy body...yep, some ass hole didn't wash their hands or was unaware on how to handle raw meat. Poisoned at Church on the next Law and Order. I knew I should have stuck with the macaroni salad my dad bought on his way there.

So, at 4 am, I vomit and then make the boy come upstairs and change the sheets because they smell like dog and I can't handle the smell. He obliges because he spoils me rotten. I called school and said I wouldn't be there and called work and said I wouldn't be there, posted a tweet/facebook status so no one at school would call me and wake me up, and I passed the fuck out until noon, when I woke up to the phone ringing. I have been brave enough to eat saltines and drink Vernors. The boy has promised soup when he returns home from work.

So, my lovely food poisoning story is not the real reason for this post. The real reason is that I want to be a mother fucking bitch. Not just a bitch, a mother fucking bitch. I have been watching the horror that is television before 8 pm when I stumbled up on Kell on Earth on Bravo. She does something in fashion and is a bonafied, card carrying, mother fucking bitch. I love her. I love the tenacity of just saying what you are thinking and not caring what people think. This is also why I love Gordon Ramsey.

I am throwing a bachelorette party for my little sister in St. Louis. A city I have not lived in for 11 years. She promised left and right that her friends would help, so I was not worried. I made all of the invitations for the bridal shower, mailed them, handmade all the games, wrote the menu. Done, stress free. My mom and I make a good team. On to the bachelorette party. NOBODY WILL CALL ME BACK. And when they do call me back, they are all blah blah I don't know, whatever, ladida. This is now how I operate. I am efficient, I don't waste time with indecision, pick something and go with it. You live there, not me. The phone call was from her friend, who needed to know right this very second where we were going because she has a friend who maybe, possibly, could get us a deal on a party bus. I was told "downtown" for a location. That is even too vague for Columbus, which is like half the size. So, I go on Urban Spoon, and like 400 restaurants come up. I call my sister and am like, OK, your friends are not helping, can you pick a restaurant or give me more information or something. She goes OFF on how she is not supposed to be planning this and doesn't want to make these decisions and can I please just handle it.

MOTHER FUCKING, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I want to be a mother fucking bitch. I want to call these people and be like, look, do your fucking job. I bought the penis straws and inappropriate shot glasses. I will make reservations for a limo and for the restaurant. JUST PICK ONE FUCKING RESTAURANT. You don't even have to give me the phone number, I can google.

I am laying here in bed, covered in a quilt and cuddling with a short dog on Urban Spoon trying to sort through hundreds of restaurants that are located downtown, drinking Vernors and trying not to vomit. Do you know how hard it is to look at pictures of food when you are sick? It sucks, it really really sucks.

Just one more reason if the boy and I ever get married, we are eloping.

2 comments:

Bradshaw said...

Dude, as soon as I'm out of work, I'll look up places. And I'm sending out a couple texts to my friends. We like the downtown area, so let me see what I can come up with. You're looking downtown Landing? Or downtown Washington Street? I can help find something for either.

Erratic said...

You are my hero. Like, seriously. This is awesome and you aren't even going to the freaking party...this is what astounds me about her friends. You would think they would care what restaurant I forced them to eat at. Sigh.

Washington Street. Apparently the Landing is not cool anymore (at least this is what I was told when I suggested it.)

If you are ever in Ohio and need to know where to eat, I am your girl. Although, right. Why would anyone willingly vacation in Ohio?