Pay attention to me. I don't talk for my health.

My crush on Jamie McMurray is out of control. I'm all sweaty over it.

I think I'm started to become jaded and somewhat of a serial crab. Work is killing me. Money is killing me. A certain fella is killing me. Pussyfootin' is killing me. Party planning is killing me. Not having clean knickers is killing me. Living out of an overnight bag is killing me (but not sleeping with my marshmallow kills me in a worse fashion). I'm snapping heads off left and right and I just have a really blah attitude about everything and I hate feeling like that. All I want is a weekend in a nice hotel with a really plush bed a la our Heavy Rebel Hotel. I don't want to have to drive anywhere or plan anything or clean anything or sweat or stress. I want to watch pay-per-view movies, order room service, have cocktails, take a whirlpool bath, MAYBE swim in a pool or hang in a hot tub, and sleep with the air conditioning on and the shades pulled tight. That scenario isn't anywhere on my future schedule.

I thought an escape to Columbus would recharge my batteries but a work disaster sort of screwed that all up for me. Yes, I had a fantastic time with Becky, Tim and Porkchop (formerly known as Johnny Switchblade). After hours of verbal catching up, we had a rad dinner where I was introduced to Bellinis! Oh sweet Bellinis! Pitcher after pitcher going straight to my head. Heavenly. After a quick cat nap, we resumed an evening of drinking, game playing, chatting, and goofing off. But this entire trip took place after Bill and I stayed up from midnight to 3:00a trying to resolve scheduling issues at work. It was a BAD scene! Both of our heads were ready to roll right off and that is NOT what I wanted after seeing (and loving) Talladega Nights at the drive-in. It made us both stressed and crabby and we slept on separate sides of the bed. Boo. I left my home away from home in a sad state. And work issues just piled up like dead bodies! I took calls in the shower. I took calls on the can. I took calls in the car. I took calls at dinner. I took calls while hanigng out. I even took a call right before bed. I was cursing work. I wasn't even getting paid and I wasn't able to fully enjoy myself. Rot. Rot. Kill. Blather. Blech.

On the drive home, I DID stop at the most AMAZING gas station on the way home. God only knows how I've been existing without it. Exit #186 off of I-71 N. Please go. It will blow your mind. I thought I was in heaven. I could have dropped a few hundred bucks there. I could have spent my whole afternoon there if it was free to spend. Please go there. Have your mind blown. Thank me later.

My Sunday was spent with the good ol' family. We played miniature golf in the burning hot sun and then had a delicious Italian dinner. I had a nice time with my sisters and my parents and I seemed to work out a TOTALLY reasonable deal regarding a new car (which I NEED as I am actually fearing for my life in this death trap...I loved you Betty Blue. Together, we saw 21 of the 50 states..OK, so you didn't go to Nevada. Stop being selfish). But I was still stressed from all the weekend work bullshit. It was the worst work experience of my life. It wrecked my weekend. But luckily, it was all capped off in Bill's bed, trying to sleep off the weekend. Like I've said, drafting solves most problems.

Now it's a new week. I finished (for the most part) the 48 and a drunken Bill (and we're not even going to go there regarding him being drunk and me being alone, painting in the heat all day when I should have been drinking tall boys) was appreciative. He said it was beautiful. He may feel different today. I woke up with a bad attitude but the hoodie Phoebe got me that reads "Robots Make Better Boyfriends" brings me joy. It fits like a glove. I'm going to see mi familia for a bigger family gathering after work and then doing some pre-party shopping with Jen. Those things don't suck (though cleaning the house for the party does). Plus, I lost a few pounds and who doesn't love that? PLUS plus, Ben and Lisa's weird puppetry has inspired me to do a solo PFG dance to "Tastes Like Poison". I love the Drags. It's going to be sweet-ass sassafras.

Maybe I wouldn't be so cranky if I could just poop at work. Le sigh.