Erratic Throws Down! OK, not really.

It seems to me that I once had a blog? And, maybe, just maybe, I posted regularly. Or at least somewhat regularly. And people read it...oh, the good old days.

So, I'm not doing it on purpose, I really am not. I am just, well, not that interesting these days. Between work and school and finding a new job and everyone I know getting married, well, I am swamped.

But! Something really weird happened at school today. There are these two girls who constantly. talk. shit. I mean, every word that comes out of their mouth. It grates on my nerves quite a bit. Like, to the point where I have to drink to make my murderous rage go away. They are also single handily the two laziest excuses for human beings I have met. Like, seriously. A big part of our day to day class is cleaning up after ourselves and I do not think I have EVER seen either one of them do more than wipe the same spot on a table over and over. While talking shit. That murderous rage is starting again...

So, today I sort of hit my limit. She was talking shit about our pie and I just lost it and said, "I am sick of your fucking mouth." She asked me to repeat what I said, and I did. She then went on some bull shit tirade about how she lives in America and has the right to say whatever she wants. To which I replied that I had the right to walk away and did just that.

Now, I must say, this is very out of character for me. It is rare that I talk shit in a serious manner. I joke around with people and generally try to avoid conflict because, really, what's the point? But, she was visibly upsetting the rest of my group and I don't know, I just snapped.

So, this girl then walks over and starts talking to the other girl in the dynamic duo. This is where I probably should have let it go. They always tell me that I am fake because I don't stand up to them when they piss me off and I walk away. So, I walked by (and was actually joking) and said, "oh, look who is talking shit now?"

I should not have done that.

She proceeded to cry (still not sure why this happened) and threatened me, basically telling me not to walk to my car by myself.

I really just don't even know what happened. I mean, I forget sometimes that I am dealing with kids. But, this whole thing was just ridiculous. First of all, because I never even changed the tone of my voice. I was not mad, just annoyed. And second of all, because tears? What the fuck was that about?

So, anyway, Erratic is spreading the love and traumatizing lazy bitches everywhere.

On a totally unrelated note, how fucking awesome was Neil Patrick Harris on Glee? HOW. FUCKING. AWESOME?

Neil Catrick Harris

People don't get me. I mean, you all get me. Because, well, why else would you read this crap? This blog is called Erratic for a reason, I am erratic. I am crazy and kind of all over the place. Like, tonight, I cried at work. CRIED AT MOTHER FUCKING WORK. Why, you ask? Someone stole my silverware. I don't know why I cried, but it was humiliating. I tried to hide and keep it from everyone, but I failed miserably and OMG I CRIED AT WORK. These are things that happen to me. I was just watching Modern Family and cried my eyes out. At a show. That is funny. Tomorrow if I watched the same show, nada. This is my crazy, this is my erratic.

I am getting a cat. Well, I guess we are getting a cat. The cat is currently 2 weeks old and we are naming it Neil Catrick Harris because Tini gave me the idea and it is the best idea anyone has ever had ever. We were going to get a girl cat, but now I think we have to get a boy cat to go with the name.

So, people keep asking why we are getting a cat. And my dead pan response has been because I want the cat to ride around on the dogs so I can post it on LOL Cats. Now, seriously, does anyone reading this actually think that is the reason I am getting a cat? No. Because you get me. I walked into the kitchen the other night and someone was saying "does she realize that dogs aren't horses?" YES I REALIZE THAT.

I just wish I came with a warning label. Like, some guy walked with me everywhere and handed out a little users guide to every new person I meet. So, they would get why I mumbled angrily under my breath to no one, or why I always talk to people as I am walking away, or why I can't say no, or why I am the way I am. I'm not crazy, just erratic.

Can your face have a nervous breakdown?

Things I no longer have to deal with because this weekend is finally over:

1. My sister's wedding drama and bridezilla related family breakdowns.
2. Driving my father's Yaris which has the acceleration of a turtle tied to a tree.
3. Having fingernails longer than the tips of my finger because I have not had fingernails in six months and I keep accidentally injuring myself and others.
4. Freaking out about the new dog sitter staying with the dogs and forgetting to feed them, water them, and general non-care related things.

Things I now have to deal with because this weekend is over:

1. The family drama that is no longer going to be secret because of the wedding. My sister is still an ass and my family notoriously has no filter.
2. The hives COVERING my face because of some kind of waxing/air brush make-up incident. It hurts and I have no idea what even caused it. Maybe my face nervous-breakdowned on my behalf.
3. The whole health triglyceride thing that I promised myself I would deal with when I got home. Stupid bad promises to myself.
4. Going through the 600 photos the boy took and editing out the 458 photos of my nostril.

All in all the weekend went well, the wedding was beautiful, everyone laughed at my maid of honor speech, and I didn't do anything I will regret. Also, seriously, everyone laughed at my maid of honor speech. I was extremely concerned that I would hear crickets chirping and be forced to crawl under the table in shame.

And since it is still "this weekend" I am going to have a beer, catch up on DVR, and give my dogs lots and lots of hugs and kisses. It is good to be home.

P.S. THERE WAS A PUPPY NEXT TO ME ON THE PLANE. I had to tell someone. Cutest. Puppy. Ever.

This post barely makes sense to me and must be read in "fast frantic" voice. Proceed.

Do you ever stop listening to a message because it is just too long and your attention span is gone and you are rolling your eyes so far back in your head, you fear permanent damage? You were probably listening to a message from me. Or the boy. Because I was totally just listening to a message from the boy like that and I had to give up. Normally, I listen to the whole thing, despite the hard core eye rolling. I just don't have it in me today.

My sister's wedding is on Saturday. And while everything is as OK as it is going to be, this shit stresses me out. I am getting email after email about things I need to do for her and appointments I need to make and money I need to spend that I don't have. Plus, you know, my life here. And the fact that I REALLY JUST WANT TO FUCKING DRINK SOME BEER but my test results came back and my cholesterol is really low (123!) but my triglycerides are high (230!) The first question out of her mouth was, "How much beer do you drink?" My life pretty much ended as she proceeded to tell me that the main cause of high triglycerides with low cholesterol is beer. Fucking empty calories. So, you know, my one stress release is killing me. Or some shit. Somebody please just put an end to all of this. I mean, not really. Because most days I love my life. But, holy fuck this week not so much.

And I have reports due and work making me come in when I am not scheduled and MY LEGS ARE SO FUCKING PALE AND THE DRESS IS GREEN AND OMG.

And I still want an otter. And beer. And money. Mostly beer and money. And an otter.

And also? ALSO? Today I was at school and my group is dumb, dumber, and jack ass. Seriously, I would say something, like, hey guys, I am going to go make the apple filling for the croissants, will you roll out the dough for the danish. I would be gone for like 30 minutes making the filling and come back and they are standing there eating the fucking Challah bread and drinking milk and MAKING ME WANT TO KILL THEM.

Deep breaths.

Then I called Big Jed and basically said this entire email into her ear REALLY REALLY fast and she kept telling me to breath and possibly called all my friends and family to find a nice, happy place I could stay for a little while.

I just opened a beer. Fuck my triglycerides and FUCK THIS DAY.

For the record, in case you have not already figured this out I will NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER have a wedding of this magnitude. EVER. Cannot emphasize that enough. EVER.

There is not enough Xanax in the world.

Also, those of you who actually worry when I freak out like this, don't. I am just kind of intense and really am mostly fine, just stressed and ragey. And drinky. Mostly ragey.

New Doctor TOTALLY doesn't get me.

I have been a little out of sorts lately. So out of sorts, that the boy walked up to me last night, handed me a Xanax and told me to stop screaming at the dogs. Seriously. They were pissing me the fuck off by JUST BEING DOGS.

Out of sorts.

I went to the doctor yesterday because sometimes the crazy isn't at an acceptable level anymore. Sometimes it reaches PANIC! and medical professionals need to intervene. They are running a lot of blood work because the crazy is actually being caused by physical symptoms, not mental. I know, I know, who expected that one? Not me, that is for sure. I was expecting a padded room...the doctor told me that total lack of sleep, dizziness, and hives (accompanied by irrational bouts of scratching my skin off) are probably my thyroid or the 400 types of anemia I have had forever. And never treated. Which, just, I don't know. She is the first doctor to every say, you are a little anemic in three forms, which is a nutrition lesson I don't care to share for right now, but the only one I don't have is sickle cell. Because, duh. So, you know google if you're interested.

She also confirmed what I already knew and "The Crazy" is, in fact, not a medical term or condition. Fuck. This is what happens when you start seeing new doctors...they have to be all, taking your boyfriend's Xanax is not OK and if you can't stop scratching wear oven mitts. It's like I'm two.

The moral of the story is fasting, blood tests, blah blah blah. But? But! If I start sleeping, I may not be so crazy. I would be totally OK with that.

On a totally unrelated note, my sister sent me an email that was a veiled apology and mostly just a desperate plea for me to come to her wedding. It was the best apology I think I will ever get from her, though, and I guess that is good enough for me. So, our problems are resolved? Or at least they are behind us for the sake of her wedding. Even though I still feel weird and icky about the whole thing, I know when to stand my ground, and this is not that time. So, bigger person and all that shit.

Is it bad that I want to be petty and whiny and stomp my feet on the ground? The old doctor would have totally gotten this and laughed when I called it The Crazy. I miss her.

People who should be forced to grocery shop online.

1. The lady with the 6 screaming children who is not even TRYING to control them as they pick things up off the shelves and throw them on the ground.

2. The woman who HAS to save that extra two cents on a gallon of milk, even though it is taking every single clerk in the store to get the coupon to work and I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO TELL THE FUCKING MACHINE I AM 21 SO I CAN LEAVE.

3. The man who is clearly only there to look at women inappropriately.

4. The woman who brought exactly $20.01 and is going to keep adding and removing things until her bill totals exactly $20.01.

5. The couple who decided, hey, why make out on the couch when we can just make out in the aisles of the grocery store.

6. The woman who hit me with her cart not once, but twice, while having conversations with an infant that obviously did not yet understand language. Little Timmy does not need you to point out all the colors on the soup cans.

7. The dude on the motorized cart. Not because he couldn't walk, but because he is just that lazy. Seriously. Order them online. Save us all from having to hate you and then hate ourselves for hating you.

8. The woman who spent all day getting dressed for the grocery store. Seriously. Heels are only appropriate when stopping in for a bottle of wine or beer on the way over to a friend's house.

9. The man who would not stop asking me questions about produce. Seriously. In and out. That is how grocery shopping works.

10. Me. Who is clearly to crabby to be allowed in public. Ever.

I have nothing appropriate for a title to this post.

One of the local photographers that I follow bought her son his first camera and posted some of his first pictures. I have the utmost respect for this woman, truly, I do. But am I the only person who sees this as pretty horrifying? And can anyone identify what it is actually a picture of? Because I dramatically gasped and immediately came here for advice.