2005-06-07
Things That Might Make You Vomit
I have a case of the Mondays, and how!
What?
Really!
Huh.
I could have sworn that when I stepped in pee this morning, temporarily lost hearing in my left ear while blowing a nose full of summer-cold snot, and came in early only to be reminded that I really don't have that much going on at my desk, I could have SWORN that it was one of Garfield's dreaded Mondays.
Not so.
It's two-fer-Tuesday and I am stuck trying not to nod off and listening to the Lite Rock soundtrack that carries me through my day.
That damn Shania Twain song, the one about keeping for always and being together and featuring the single most annoying set of synthesized slide guitar? That one might be the end of me. You can't drown out that fake slide guitar and because I am a backwards TV junkie lately, I also can't get out of my head the Glade Sensories commercial that features Shania and her studio melodies.
Please.
Who in the hell would buy a special cd player to play Glade air freshener?
In her home?
Words fail me. I cannot imagine coming home from Target and bumbling into the house with my arms full of bags and diving into those bags to get my Glade cd player up and running. I guess you could do some kind of mood thing in the bathroom.
Like, you could plug in the cd player, load up Shania and her studio re-mix and let the Springtime Sunshine Citrus good times roll. I guess you'd just leave it on and anytime anyone uses the restroom at your house, he or she would have the extreme pleasure of some relaxingly pleasant music to cover up the unpleasant toilet business, whatever that might be for you.
Can you imagine if you had food poisoning?
You're all hunched over and heaving into the toilet, that chorizo burrito from the Los Betos at 22nd and Alvernon, and you get a couple yaks up and in. When you take a minute to rest between pukes, tears and make-up streaming down your pathetic little face and drool gathering inside your lower lip, needing to be spit out and you tune back in a little to the surroundings and what do you hear?
Not "Help! I somebody. Help!"
Not "Ooooooklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain..."
Not even "Y!M!C!A! It's fun to stay at the Y!M!C!A!"
You hear that Shania shit and you are forced with a gutteral drive to crawl over to the Glade cd player red-faced, slobbering, and sicker from the Glade smell, now eminating directly into your face...
Yeah...
I'd throw that bitch, quite literally, out of the window and say to myself, "Fatass, what were you thinking?"
I'd use all of my remaining strength to pull myself up to lean on the counter, grasping with both hands and look at myself in the mirror, practicing how to make myself look good even when I feel like I might die.
Of course, once you stand up, you're going to have to yak again but at least this time, when you come out of the Throwing-Up tunnel, you won't have to hear or smell any traces of the most ridiculous product that has ever been marketed to American women who watch television.
I totally confessed my alter ego, Candy Jones, to a work pal of mine and she thanked me for it. I love candy. After a few days of pretty much eating candy, I pulled back and started eating healthily again and 'lo and behold, salads mess with my stomach!
I knew it!
Fruit and veggies really aren't goo for you!
It's Little Debbies and Sour Patch Kids that make for strong bones and a healthy constitution!
I'm kidding.
That's probably not as funny to anyone else but me.
I have to walk my neighbors' dogs tonight. I'm kind of looking forward to it, for the break from Rosie. She's getting fresh with me and we are going to have to sit down together and talk about our discipline plan. If things don't change, I am going to roll out Tough Love for Terriers.
She wants to take over the house and I have some news for the bitch:
No.
I'm the boss.
I talked to some co-workers/dog owners and got some fantastic ideas.
This weekend, we are going to get down to business.
Speaking of this weekend, there is this happy hour that I HAVE to go to. I mean, it's not an option. It's for a birthday for someone really important and there's nothing I can do to avoid it.
I'll be expected to drink. I can't drink and get home with my vehicle.
I hate being subject to the schedules of other people.
I have no idea how I'm going to negotiate this but I will tell you that I'll find a way. Besides not having the money or the stomach to party on, I don't have the will to do so on a Friday when a whole glorious weekend is streching and waiting for me.
Say what you will but I wake up at the most unholy hour and as I age, I become less capable in the taking naps arena.
I doze for 20 minutes, wake up, change the channel, doze for 15 minutes, and generally feel shittier than if I'd just gotten up and stayed vertical.
*sigh*
Help.
I don't know what to do to get out of this thing early.
The pressure is already on for me to come out and be fabulous and it's TUESDAY.
Popularity can be so stifling. I really feel for poor Linsday Lohan over here.
arizonasarah at 11:31 a.m.