Complete and utter randomness.

Ok, it's been a while, but I haven't felt the overwhelming urge to put forth the effort to write an actually really real post. (This is what it takes for me people, an urge.) But.. I am sitting here alone, for the first time in a while (hi Art!), drinking a glass of wine, and my favoritest Buzzin (hi Blanco!) in apparantly "offline". So here goes the posting...

I have been so ungodly sick for the past, oh, I don't know, month, that I literally wanted to die. Every spare second I've had has been me hiding under a blanket on my couch telling the Princess to "Go away. Mommy doesn't feel good. Leave me alone." My poor kid. Apparantly I am within the realm of the superflu and as soon as it laid its snarling claws on me I was a goner. Everyone I know has this fuckin flu. And it doesn't go away. Like for an entire month. Everyone, mind you, except my dear child. How is it possible that I have been inches from taking my own life due to the pain, oh my god the fucking pain, and the little one has been as chipper as a fucking Disney cartoon? I mean, the last thing I want is for my kid to be sick. Seriously, that's the worst thing in the world next to a colonic, but what the fuck? Are you telling me that I'm not contageous? That my smothering her with kisses everyday is by no means a way to get her as sick as I am? Thank God for small favors, and a great immune system for her apparantly, but wow. This superflu, as I have dubbed it, reaches far and wide and is completely ruthless. And I blame the fucking freaks that come into my work after having called in sick to their work but, "had to get their hair done." What in God's name makes you think that it's ok to call in sick, SO YOU DON'T GET EVERYONE YOU WORK WITH SICK, but come into my salon and breathe your nasty diseased germs all over us? Are hairstylists immune to germs? Because I really was not aware that they are a breed of superhumans that can ward off any and all illnesses just because you needed fucking highlights. Ugh. And yes, please, I love it when you cough on your money right before you hand it over.

Ok, so to re-cap, I was sick. But I'm better now!! I feeling so much better that I've declared this week to be MY WEEK TO SPRING CLEAN! So what if it's negative nine hundred and fifty eight degrees out? I'm in the mood to organize (ok, so when am I not?) and it's almost spring...almost...Tomorrow I start with the kitchen. Woo hoo!! Can you feel the excitement?

This is where I should go into a lovely rant about Dusty and "oh how I hate thee" but I really don't have the energy. I've wasted too much energy on that man (if you can call him that) already. *sigh*

But there's Art!! I like Art. He's neat. And fabulous in bed, btw. That motherfucker has a bag full of tricks, and so far I've liked them all. One of the main reasons I stayed sick for as long as I did was partly due to him. I have this thing where I like sex. No, I love it. I have a problem with loving it too much, like where it effects my health. And Art feeds into this addiction. I was engaging in said activity when I should have been doing nothing but moaning in pain and deleriously poking my eyes out. He actually convinced me that the endorphines produced during sex were good for me... and I desparately wanted to believe him... so I did. Regret is for pussies. The only problem I have with Art, at the time being, is that I think he's ready, after a mere 3 months, to do the whole "I love you" thing. I'm not down with the whole "I love you" thing right now. It's not that I don't love him, well, I'm pretty sure I don't just yet (but I'm not ruling it out!), but I don't want to say I do and completely regret it later...like I did with the last boyfriend. It's way more complicated than it sounds because I'm a fucktard, but you understand. Right? Ugh. I know he' s at the point in his life where he's ready to commit and have a family and blah blah blah, but I don't know that I want to get that serious. Especially so quick. I have a tendency to fall way too fast and it always bites me in the ass. Like I've said before, I'm trying to be cautious on this one because I really do like him and can see a potential future with him, if I don't fuck it up in the meantime. At least I'll always have my cats.