Life is a bit more mellow when your 25-year-old body suddenly decides to behave like an 86-year-old, blue haired, liver spotted, hunched over, walker with tennis balls wielding cardiac care patient. OK, so maybe it’s not that bad, and I am feeling better today (minus the effects of the insomnia), but that general feeling of ass is still lingering and it makes my weekends far less entertaining than they used to be. Here are some highlights I managed to squeeze out:
• One of my bosses told me to go home at 11 a.m. Friday because the left side of my head was trying to detach itself from the right side making me a worthless employee.
At least this 30 hour migraine didn’t make me vomit like the last one several weeks ago (I know, I know, poor me, right?). So I spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening in a drooly, codine-induced coma because when one of these monstrous whores of a headache won’t go away, I don’t hesitate to summon the narcotics fairy.
• Feeling refreshed after my coma, I went to the mall in hopes of buying these hot ass shoes, but ended up having to order them. Afterwards I spent more time at Target on a Friday night, but managed to escape with mostly just necessities and enough time to hit up the bars for two whole beers. Somebody hold me back from all this fun!
• Saturday I spent my evening at yet another couples wedding shower ALONE. Awesome. This is what happens when you date a bartender because they work every Saturday night and all the friends that you only see once every couple of weeks for such get togethers think you have an imaginary boyfriend and still go, ‘awww, poor single girl. Who can we set her up with?’ At least I’m in the wedding and have an excuse for showing up stag as if I needed an excuse to crash a party.
• Not only was this a couples shower, but apparently an early St. Patrick’s Day affair.
It was like Pottery Barn and a leprechaun boned then exploded out babies everywhere in that house. I’m surprised I’m not shitting green after that party. However we did escape the Irish fest later and finished up the night at a local karaoke bar where best man Kyyyle and groomsmen Lawyer Man sang a rousing scotch slurred version of “MmmBop,” while the rest of the wedding party pissed their pants with laughter. A little later, Lawyer Man “danced” by rolling around on the ground in his scotch-soaked shirt. I’m glad we’re pals now, because Lawyer Man is too ridiculous to hate.
• Sunday I accompanied the boy to an eye exam since he’s one sudden head tilt away from having to tape the middle of his glasses together with sexy white tape. When the door to the exam room opened and some dude in a T-shirt and Wranglers popped in, I thought an America’s Best Eyeglasses customer got lost, except it turned out to be the optometrist. Apparently they don’t have a dress code there because it was like one of the regular employees walked out into the mall and asked, “Do we have a doctor in the house?” Then when nobody answered, they asked, “OK, fine, then does anybody know how to work one of those eye exam doflinkies?” And then Wranglers man raised his hand and was invited in.
• A little later that night while the boy and I sipped Shiraz and watched “Stepbrothers” – so fucking stupid it’s hilarious, by the way, mainly because Will Ferrell can just stand there and breathe and crack me up – I couldn’t get the boy to stop staring at this scooter online:
Apparently that’s his Spring/Summer “thing” and what he will be spending his hard earned St. Patrick’s Day tip money on. He had one a few years ago that he had to sell when he moved. This will apparently also become my “thing” as well since, from the sounds of it, I can expect him to pick me up on it about 99 percent of the time when the weather is decent. He’s already talking about going to some store he knows of and buying both of us helmets. I suspect we’ll be frequenting quite a few biker bars because it’s just like him to roll up on a bunch of leather clad bikers on a flame covered scooter and park it amongst the Harleys. Except if he gets a shirt that says “If you can read this, the bitch fell off,” I totally break up. Why date a Harley guy when you can roll with a moped man?
And now off to plan tomorrow’s festivities, which cannot begin until after 5 p.m. when I get off work. I’d consider taking the day off if I hadn’t been sick so much. Hopefully my life will be slightly more interesting after an evening of green beer.