Why Weekends Make Me Tired

It’s kind of been a crazy couple of days.  A lot has happened since my last ramble.  I’ll try and hit the highlights…in order, of course.

I read some seriously entertaining story submissions for my little contest.  Want to win your very own Elly drawing?  Of course you do!  Here are the details.

I bought a house.  Technically Rocco did, too.  (Hold please while I breathe into this paper bag for a few moments.)

Webster 6.0 died a horrible fiery death.  I’m phone-less until Tuesday afternoon.  My thumbs are already losing muscle tone.

I tried on forty-seven LBD’s (that’s little black dress, not lesbian bed death – just in case you weren’t clear) in search of an acceptable old-married-hag-of-honor shroud for Gwen’s upcoming nuptials.  Only three of them had butt bows.  One was purchased.   Wait, the dress purchased was not one of the three butt-bowed numbers.  Sadly, the dress purchased also lacks sequins.  Fortunately, I still have my bedazzler.  How awesome would it be to bedazzle “thug life” across the front of my dress?!?  I’ll even volunteer to do it for the other bridesmaids.  Because I’m the best old-married-hag-of-honor a girl could hope for.  Obviously.

I crashed a party in central park when I spotted unattended hoagies and a 5 gallon plastic bucket filled with sangria.  Some day, I want to have my very own bright orange 5 gallon plastic bucket.  When people try and mix concrete or put dirt in there I’m going to scream, “Wait!  That’s the cocktail bucket!”  Fuck pitchers, people.  It’s all about the bucket.

Not My Photo

Some fucking lunatic tried to blow my ass up.  What’s better than walking through Times Square as fleets of siren wailing vehicles descend on the area and hordes of cops and firemen start suddenly rushing pedestrians out of the area while trying to stop people from trampling one another?  Not having a working cellphone so you can figure out what the hell is going on.  I miss Webster.

I watched Everyday Rapture.  Again.  I still loved it.  Turns out I’m not the only one.

I had several decidedly disturbing dreams…until I woke up enough to realize Lucy (my cat) had made it her own personal mission to lick off every drop of the peppermint foot lotion I’d applied to my exhausted feet only seconds before passing out from phone withdrawal.  (If the lady that’s giving me Mildred is reading this, please let me assure you that while I love my pets quite deeply, I don’t LOVE my pets.  The lotion thing was a fluke.  Really.  Lucy always gets a little silly after a bottle of champagne.  Once I put on her tiny little ball gag, I was able to sleep quite peacefully.)

I managed to get sunburned.  In MAY.  I’m starting to think that whole “sensitivity to sun” thing I had going on during chemo just might be here to stay.

I shared another terrifying Craftastrophe with the world.  It makes me ridiculously happy that you guys think of me when you see horrifying crafts.  I mean, what artist DOESN’T want that?  On the other hand, I’m a little disturbed that Rod Stewart’s warbling ALSO makes you people think of me.  Clearly I need to focus and and redouble my efforts to have my name be synonymous with vagina.  I’ll start by showing you my new favorite emoticon:  ({})

I think that’s enough vagina for one day…


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27 thoughts on “Why Weekends Make Me Tired

  1. Webster?!?!?!?!? Por Que?!?!?!?!?!?

    *drops to knees, hands held high*

    Por Que, Webster?!?!?

    You bought a house? That’s great news! Isn’t it cool how, when you buy a home, they show you the secret sex parlor that every home owner has, but keeps secret? That’s the room where I eat my fried chicken.

    Chartreuse.
    .-= KeepingYouAwake´s last blog ..The People I’ve Seen =-.

  2. Congrats on your new home.
    I was digging deep trying to come up with a decent comment but I am dialing this in from my iPhone while surrounded by a bus full of third graders.
    I will return with a promise to do better after the field trip I’m chaperoning has wrapped up.

  3. Sigh… Its a tough call with you, but Im going to go ahead and say ‘Congratulations’ on buying a house. BUT just to be sure – did you run though the checklist? Twice? How about Thrice? Ah-ha well here goes:

    ?) Does the party selling the house to you own it?

    ?) Is the designation of the house (address-street number ect) accurate and consistent with MorningWood city hall?

    ?) Do you realize you will STILL have New Jersey license plates?

    ?) I know your realtor and I am scared of her nails.

    ?) Do you realize the MorningWood joke will never die?

    ?) Are there any leaking containers of DEATH on the property?

    ?) Is the party selling the house actually selling the house?

    ?) Is this house build on an ancient Indian graveyard? (Or modern one for that matter?)

    ?) I think ‘Chartreuse’ must be KeepingYouAwake’s safe word. Im not sure Im OK with that.

    Seriously – Im rooting for you and ready to slap some paint on that bitch. (Thom – did you get that?) Anyway -here goes:

    Congratulations!!

    1. See…I don’t know any of that yet. Shit like THIS is why I don’t feel the need to jump out of planes and shit.

      Apparently I had two whole people show up to my open house yesterday. Fuck.

      Actually, Keeping You Awake’s safe word is “Algonquin.”

  4. Wow you crashed a party in Central park???

    oh…and bought a house?

    Have you ever seen a cat with Vicks vapor rub? They go crazy!

    Not that I do it on purpose or anything…or just when I’m bored.

    Congrats on the house!!!!!

  5. So much has happened in so little time! can I give you my “matron” of honor dress when it comes in for some bedazzeling? you can punch “old married sister” on front somewhere for me. congrats on the house – are you still a citizen of the Jerz? PS. I have a few cocktail buckets… a necessity of owning a house.
    .-= Ry Sal´s last blog ..House reDefine part III =-.

  6. First migraine ever was after putting an offer on our first house. Holy shit. I’d say “welcome to insanity,” but you seem to vacation there sometimes anyway? 🙂 I love it — congratulations, Elly! Can’t wait to see how many vaginas you paint in the place (because I know you’ll post them here, not because I’m peeping in your windows).
    .-= Andrea´s last blog .."Pachelbel’s Reggae Canon" =-.

  7. I have the giant orange buckets which you seek, my dahling! The football team, dump gatorade on the coach type. Oh yes I do. One for Hooch(1 bottle of every clear liquor known to man, some fruit and some punch) and one for Sangria. Yes…..Dirty Jerzee……
    .-= Wicked Shawn´s last blog ..Open Letter To Rielle Hunter =-.

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