Someone to die for you and more.

I've been asking everyone if they have their periods. Today rots.

I'm crabby. I'm fussy. I'm irritable. Everything about me, inside-n-out, is in knots. Fed up, fucked off, what have you. I didn't sleep well last night or the night before and at this very second, I'm at the end of my rope and might tie it in a knot and slip it over my head. I hate today and I have far too much to do to be exhausted and surly and amped, OH MY! And this beautiful mood I'm in seems to be the norm for people today. Awesome. A world full of suck-o.

I wish I had a new Moofia. Or a smorkin' something-or-other. Rad.

As soon as I clock out...get ready for the ramble...I have to ditch this place, truck to Anna Banana's to get skunkier and chill with my girlfriend, Phoene Jeans, rush home, paint like a mothertruckin' maniac, and TRY to stay awake for the (2 hour) season premier of Gray's Anatomy, only to have to catch some ZZZZZZs in order to haul ass in for some overtime. I'm exhausted all ready and that's really burning my toast. Exhaustion iced with psychotic business does NOT make for a tasty treat.

Y entonces mañana...

The madness starts all over again, still built on an ever-growing foundation of exhaustion. Put in some overtime so we can have luxuries like cable and ice-cream, rush to the homestead (after a pit stop for the weekly anniversary card), paint like a mothertruckin' maniac BEFORE I have to head out for a cozy little event. I'll probably fall asleep in my chicken fingers and big beers. Don't let me drown.

After a quick and painless family functiony thing-a-majig, I can crash. I am looking forward to that crash like nobody's business and I plan to crash Dale Earnhardt-style. Consider me dead to the world. God, that sounds so good right now that I'm on the verge of a vag-quake! Pajamas, pillows, mindless entertainment that allows me to turn off my brain until the race (or maybe football?) on Sunday.

Maybe none of this seems like THAT big of a deal but along with all the other things driving me crazy-bananas (which I don't feel like sharing)...I'm worked over from head to toe. I'm stressing about my painting. I'm stressing about running all over like a chicken with my heart cut off. I'm stressing about reaching my limit with a lot of things. I don't really feel like emploding this week.

I don't feel like having heartburn either.

I just need a break from dealing with bullshit. Yesterday Todd mentioned how nice it would be to have a hotel room (we're both big fans) with a hot tub/whirlpool and to just reeeeeeeelax. But who can afford that right now? I said all we can afford is out "nest" at home since it's free...and there's no hot tub/whirlpool in our nest. The sweet suggestions only temporarily ease the stress of running on go. I want to just quit on everything and everyone...but I have to "give up on giving up"...even if some peopel around me gave up long ago. I feel like Atlas.

I'm taking a temporary dive. Me and my scummy mouth.