A Surprisingly Sane Blog

Taking a weekend road trip to a dance convention in California with guy friends may just end in a shut the fuck up you piece of shit or I’m gonna ram your precious car off the highway with all of us in it while I’m behind the wheel.

It was not a very good weekend. Mental stability was not my friend in the crowded ballroom.

And sorry, A, I won’t wreck your car. Thanks for being our car-lender person and putting up with my insanity. I know, I’m a mess.

Current Mood: Alarmed

Find a sex therapist.

Come on, you’re living in Seattle now.  There’s probably one living in every neighborhood here.

I have issues.  My husband has issues.  Together, we’re a lethal match.  And not in a good way.

Current Mood: Alarmed

Using New-Skin liquid bandage on a ruptured blister hurts REALLY FUCKING BAD.

Current Mood: Alarmed

Mexican food made by real Sonoran Mexicans just may be the best tasting thing ever… but the gas for days on end after indulging in a mountain of lard-beans will kill you and everything within a 30-foot radius of your colon.

It was worth it.  But I am very, very ready for my digestive tract to get back to normal.

Current Mood: Alarmed

Drinking on an empty stomach until you can’t walk and barfing into a Halloween basket in your friend’s car really isn’t the best way to deal with your issues.

I named the puke bucket “Ghosty”.  And the car door “Fred”.  I figured we should be on a first-name basis since I was going to be using them to hold me up and house the bottle of water, rum, and wine I’d been drinking all night.

At least I had enough wits about me to apologize profusely for being a drunken moron and I didn’t get puke on the car’s leather seats.

I need to get a fucking grip. And find a new therapist. This is NOT a healthy way to deal with things.

Current Mood: Alarmed