Let me start off by saying that "Oh My God" by Ida Maria makes me want to seriously fuck some shit up. It's an amazing song for being so repetetive. It makes my heart beat insanely fast and it makes me feel really alive. If you haven't heard it, listen to it. And if you hate it, jump off a bridge. OK...I could probably do without the dude singing along but it wouldn't be as full. Just go...rock out.
And let me continue by saying...
That I suck. And Todd sucks, too. We deserve each other because we suck so badly! Because of something that I don't even feel like getting into, we didn't make it to Phoebe's art show on Friday. I'm gringing just typing that. And the entire time that the thing I don't want to discuss was going down, we both had the fact that we were missing the show in the back of our minds. We feel rotten and 2 inches tall. I waited two days to even contact her to apologize because there was nothing I could possibly say to make it up to her or make it better. I should have been there, no matter what else was going on at home. And she's being incredibly understanding which makes it even worse. I want her to tell us to fuck off (not REALLY...she's my M-O-H) or that we're horrible, selfish friends. But she's not...damn it. I just want to say it again, and have it documented for posterity...
Phoebe, we are so sorry and we know how rotten it is that we weren't there and of all people, YOU are the person we shouldn't let down and we did. So even if you won't punish us...we're punishing ourselves on your behalf. If it takes flowers or cookie bouquets or fondue or punching Todd in the face (I'm selfish AND vain)...we'll make it up to you. Somehow. Love, Lacey and Todd.
Aside from totally bailing on Phoebe, this weekend put a lot of things into perspective. I could go on and on about what went down and how it was resolved and what was said and what will be done and how we came out of it so strong-n-solid. But honestly, I'm exhausted from the whole thing. I don't have the drive to relive it all right now. I barely have the focus to type this blathering mess. I will leave you with these gems.
I love you, Phoebe. And I'm sorry. We're sorry.
I love you, Todd. 166 days to go. And then we "consider" it.
I love you, smaller ass. You're adorable in my new jeans.
Out.
1 comment:
well, if it will make you feel better, then imagine me right now, jumping up and down, shaking me fists at you, calling you a stinker.
is that ok?
;) and love, i knew something heavy had to be going on. i get it. the world has just gone mad lately - for everyone around me. i was hoping you were immune to the yuckness going around, but it seems none of us are.
hang in there. like we all are.
i love you. you stinker!
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