Thursday, October 13, 2011

Whatever and ever

On Tuesday I was walking around amped up on life like I was the Queen of the Fucking Universe and today is Thursday and I'm already ready to physically attack the next person that looks at me the wrong way.

yoshirobinson:  DSJFGHFJCGV

Don't get me wrong, I'm still in a pretty good mood, but I've had a couple Forgot My Underwear Days in between then and now and I'm feeling a little worse for the wear for it. Literally. Have you ever walked around all day in jeans without underwear? It's not the most comfortable endeavor. Frankly, it's a little distracting. Mostly because every time I forget to pack myself a pair of underwear I fixate on two things for the entirety of the day:

1) Great, now I have to fucking wash these jeans tonight. This is a hardship for me because usually I wear jeans for weeks before I wash them. Yeah, weeks. I'm such a dirtball I know, but they're jeans! They're sturdy and never look dirty and if they don't smell then what's the point of the wash? Cowboys -- the inventors of jeans, mind you -- probably wore them for months before giving them a good scrubbing on the washboard. And I promise you they were working a lot harder in those pants than I am. My friend Kelly would probably throw up in her mouth if she read this because she washes her jeans after every wear. Frankly I find this absurd. One, because I only own one pair of jeans that I actually love and that would require doing the laundry FAR more often than I can wrap my head around at the moment. And two, THEY'RE JEANS. And I know I'm going to get an email from someone telling me to stop being the dirty kid and buy myself another pair of jeans, but do you think jeans grow on trees, my friend? They do not. And if it bothers you so much you can buy them FOR me.

2) I wonder if anyone can tell that I'm not wearing underwear. I know it's highly unlikely that anyone would ever guess that I'm free ballin' it when I'm wearing pants, but if I happen to be wearing a dress that day, it can be a real problem. Need I remind you of the time I flashed my vagina at an entire MBTA bus? Luckily, this week I was wearing pants but I still can't stop these thoughts from entering my mind. It's like every time I have a conversation with someone there's a little voice in my head that's just screaming "YOU'RE NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR DO NOT ACT SUSPICIOUS." I'm not exactly sure what type of suspicious behavior my brain imagines would cause someone to suspect that I'm missing a very important article of clothing, but I think that nonetheless. Yes, living with myself IS a challenge.

Luckily, I didn't have a team run this morning so I didn't have the chance to forget my underoos. And if you ask me, the reason I forgot my underwear in the first place is because I've been so exhausted by the time I get home each night because I'm busier than ever at work which is awesome but totally draining, emotionally and physically. Then last night while on the phone with my grandmother I realized that I forgot her birthday on Friday and it is fucking tearing me to pieces. If anyone knows the guilt of forgetting a grandparent's birthday, then I assume you know what I'm talking about. The mere thought makes me weepy. All I can think about is the image of my grandparents sitting in their living room, drinking their Manhattans, thinking every time the phone rings that it must be their long lost granddaughter who abandoned them to move to Boston calling to wish her Mommom a happy birthday only to be let down ... again ... and again ... and again.

As many of you know, being so far away from my family is definitely something I struggle with, so when I'm an asshole and do something like forget a birthday while everyone else in my family is home celebrating, I get a little psychotic. And now today it's cold and pouring rain and add the whole week's mix into this and I just want to throw on some sweatpants, curl up on the couch, pull up my hood, pop "PS I Love You" into the DVD player and have a good cry for a few hours.

Lastly, it took me two hours to get to work today and I legit almost peed my pants. This isn't really a complaint since I was playing Words with Friends the whole time and I'm currently beating my sister-in-law the doctor for the first time ever so I'm feeling pretty awesome about myself, but I did have a moment when I thought I was going to run out of gas AND pee my pants at the same time and I had a long internal debate with myself about which would be worse. On the one hand, if I peed my pants I'd have to turn around and go home. But then I'd have to explain to my boss WHY I turned around to go home. And lord knows that would not be a very comfortable ride. Worse, I'd have to clean my car. On the other hand, running out of gas on the Neponset Bridge and clogging up the ONE functional lane they have right now would probably have gotten me murdered. So yeah.

And now the only thing running through my head after typing all of this is "WHITE KID PROBLEMS" so I'm going to shut the fuck up now and just deal. And yes I do feel better after a good rant thank you very much. B thanks you too because this means I don't have to throw a box of hard shell tacos at his head tonight. Again.

Also, in the spirit of Halloween: My friend Bill sent this to me the other night and I laughed so hard I cried real tears. Enjoy. Now I'm gonna go buy a pair of fall boots and feel better about life almost instantly. Ah, shoes.


Meagan said...

Just letting you know, I pretty much never wash my jeans either. I hate washing them, the first wear is always so tight and hard to get them on.. I much prefer a dirty worn pair of jeans!

Becky Mochaface said...

I wash my jeans only when my butt doesn't look as good in them because the material has gone too soft. So probably every 2-3 weeks or so.


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