I Am A Hoopty

I picked my son up from school last night--he was in a good mood, so I decided we'd hit up Mickey D's for some happy meal action and then head to Loose Park (yes, it's really called that). A few blocks away from McD's, while sitting in traffic, my car suddenly starts to vibrate--like when there's some kickin' bass nearby--and i hear this really loud, low rumble. I start looking around for the hoopty and then it hits me--the hoopty is ME.

What the Fuck???

I don't remember running over anything. I don't remember anything falling off my car. I didn't even hit any bumps that I'm aware of. And suddenly I'm rollin' through da hood, keepin' it real.

And I have $20 in the bank and payday isn't until Friday.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

So I took the boy to McD's and he was happy just to hang in the indoor playground area. I got a little misty-eyed watching him conquer the thing, because a year ago, he couldn't get up into it without help.

Did I mention I'm supposed to start my period in 3 days?

After the boy and I returned home, I decided to clean up the apartment a bit because it smelled a little. Fucking cat. So I vaccuumed--and just as I was finishing up, the motor in said vaccuum bit the big one.

I'm going to cry now.

Since my evening was going so damned well, I decided to cap things off by picking a stupid fight with Ben. He has these friends, they like the "hippie lettuce"--which is fine with me, to each his own, whatever--I just don't like the shit because my psycho ex was hooked on it and well, spending 5 years in an abusive relationship with a psychotic pothead will seriously mess with your head. So one of these friends, we'll call him Bob, and Ben had been out screwing around. Ben called me around 7:00 and said "Bob's wife has to come get him, so I might be about a half hour late." And at that point, I lost my fucking mind. All I could think was "fine, asshole, just sit over there and get high with your buddies, no problem, I'll just sit here and stew in my own bitch juices, no biggie." And while I'm thinking it, my sane personality is thinking, "what the fuck?" By the time Ben arrived, I was in full-on psychobitch mode, and ended up opening my mouth and letting out this rash of bizzarre horseshit that made no sense and, I'm sure, made him seriously question my sanity.

Did I mention I'm due to get my period very, very soon?

As much as I hate playing the PMS card, I have to admit--it's real. It's not a myth. I always thought it was, because I never had a problem with it until...well, until after I had my son. Let this be a lesson in birth control to all of you--HAVING A CHILD WILL FUCK UP YOUR BODY FOR THE REST OF YOUR NATURAL LIFE. Forget stretch marks and sagging tits and serious weight gain--the rest of you is fucked, too. I never had cavities until after giving birth. I never had PMS until after giving birth. I never had symptoms of Celiac until after giving birth. (Granted, all of this could also coincide with the fact I turned 30 a couple of years ago, but I refuse to believe I'm getting older, so I'm betting the farm on childbirth.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah--the hormone card. It's the truth. For a solid week every month I turn into Sybil. And I hate it because it just seems so stupid. But it's beyond my control, which is equally frustrating.

So now I have to figure out how to make it through the next week with $10 and a credit card that has $10 of credit left on it. And my hoopty is almost out of gas.

Thank you for reading. I'm going to go slash my wrists now.

Have a nice day.