Not So Blonde

Sail On

I took a nap this afternoon and it would have been a great nap, until I woke up with a start from a bad dream I had. You know how it is, one minute you’re sleeping soundly and the next, you’re wide awake, going over every horrifying detail.

I know hearing about one’s dream is about as fascinating as hearing someone recite their grocery list (actually, that sounds fun) but I’m going to post it anyway.

I was in bar with my friends and I kept motioning across the bar to R for him to come join us. He continued to sit where he was, sipping on a drink and smiling coyly.

That actually is not out of character for R or I to do to each other. We constantly tease one another and cause scenes in public.

One thing R loves to do is snap his fingers in a signal to hurry up if I’m dawdling. He’ll be halfway out a door and here comes the *snap snap snap* Sometimes he’ll throw in, “Let’s go, woman!”

I always act pseudo-pissed off and will turn my back in an exaggerated huff til he eventually comes over, grabs my hand and throws his head back and laughs. And then I laugh and happily go with him. I wonder what the people who have witnessed this scene had to have been thinking.

Anyway, so that part of the dream wasn’t that odd… until… a girl came up to R in a skimpy dress and started hanging all over him. R seemed to be enjoying this attention and he leaned his head in closer to this tramp.

All of my friends are aghast and I excuse myself with a, “Hold on one damn minute…” and march my ass right over to R’s side of the bar.

In my dream, I had no thought that me going over would not have the expected result: R would see me, shove the tramp away and all would be well.

That’s not what happened.

R and the whore were now kissing - KISSING!! Gah!! I don’t even like typing that.

I tap R’s shoulder and he looks up from this close embrace and says, “We’re breaking up. I’m too much man for you. This ship has sailed.”

I have to admit that I was really upset when I first started processing this nightmare (napmare?) but the more I think about it, the funnier it is. THIS SHIP HAS SAILED? Good god. Even my dreams are cheesy and melodramatic!

In closing, for your listening pleasure:

Just wait til R hears this one…

Coocoo for Coco Puffs

If I don’t get out of this house soon, I’m losing my shit. I know having one’s place of work closed from Christmas Day to the 5th of January sounds like an enviable position to be in but trust me when I tell you: It’s not!

Well, you know, it probably would be if I a) were not sick b) was not sad R is gone and c) were independently wealthy so I could spend my days shopping and going to a spa.

But if I were c) why would I care if my damn office was closed anyway? Pray tell? Hmmm? *sips on drink*

So I’m not going to bitch about Bymoron once in this post (lie). My blog has, for the most part, turned into bitching about him and I think I know why:

- times that he upsets me are the times I really need to talk to someone

and

- he’s an asshole.

But I know it’s tiresome to read about all the time, exes are exes for a reason and all that jazz. But if anyone reading knows him tell him not to come to my house when I’m MMS’ing (mid-menstrual syndrome) and attempt to be nice to me when I can’t stand the sight of his stupid face.

There I am, washing dishes, innocent as can be when the Moron peeks his head out from behind the front door to say, “Happy New Year, Mary.”

I look up with disdain and a spark in the eye, contemplate throwing the glass I’m washing at his head, decide I like it too much and I break too many glasses whilst drunk anyway, set it down, walk over to the door which he has since quickly closed, open it and shout down the stairs: “Get a prescription for Valium! Happy New Year!” And slam the door.

Now, I know if you were to witness this scene and not know the players (or even if you did), that I would in fact be the person you’d peg for a re-up on a mood-enhancing Rx. Oh, ho ho… but you see, R always says I don’t let logic and reason cloud my arguments so I won’t start now.

~~~

I’m only going to post about what I did on New Year’s Eve because I didn’t post about it last year and I can’t remember what R and I did. I oftentimes refer to my blog to remember things such as holidays, birthdays, outings out with the girls, funny conversations, menstrual cycles…

That’s the second time I’ve brought up “The Flow” and I think the first was pushing it, and now here I did it again. Anyway, it’s TRUE! There’s only so much mymonthlycycles.com can tell a girl!

So this is what I did. I made nachos, I baked cookies (sorry, no pic and the kid ate them all), watched Elf (twice), poured the kid and I sparkling apple cider quarter til midnight (I had Prosecco for me but I didn’t feel like drinking), watched Carson Daly count down the ball drop with M, called him a douchebag about a dozen times (Carson, not M), guzzled my apple cider, chased it with Tylenol Nighttime cold medicine and prepared to pass the F out - from something other than alcohol.

Oh, what a night.

It would have ended there, and Tylenol wanted to end it there, but the night wanted to carry on! It’s freaking New Year’s Eve, bitches!

First, my dad called around 1:30. He started the conversation with, “Hey, party girl!”

I almost think he was disappointed to hear otherwise. We had a nice conversation, if I can remember most of it. (ETA: He talked of making his prime rib & Yorkshire pudding, New Year tradition. It made me smile.)

Tylenol wanted to call it a night again once my dad and I rang off but then, R kept texting. It was a nice conversation, from what I can piece together from re-reading the messages this afternoon. (ETA: He talked of chasing drug runners in S. America. Did not make me smile.)

Ah, drinks with the boy and communication from the two R’s. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Well…

Happy New Year, folks!