F*CK YOU HORMONES

My husband is a saint.
Each month I'm baffled he doesn't divorce my crazy ass.
Hormones are a bitch, AND coincidentally turn me into one too.

Last night we had a ..... small spat? if you will.

Over a ferret.

Yeah, you totally read that right.
A ferret.
A small, little furry, adorable as SHIT ferret.

A ferret that we don't even HAVE.

Me: (Eyes huge. Bright idea face. Totally excited) "BABE! We should get a ferret!"

Husband: (Totally unamused and rational) "Um. No. We shouldn't"

Me: (Slightly smaller eyes, still totally fucking jacked about my idea)
"Why not. Do you even KNOW how cute ferrets are?!"

Husband: "I knew I shouldn't have let you watch Meerkat manor on Animal Planet"

Me: "This is not about Meerkats, HUSBAND. It's about my needs! And my needs involve a ferret!"

Husband: "Sweetie...... NO."

Me: "Give me one good reason why not?!"

Husband: "Because I'll be the one who has to take care of it, just like I take care of the dogs."

Me: (Horns emerging, Talons extending, Hair standing up)---It was like the devil fucked Teen Wolf.
I take care of the dogs just as much as you do. NOTTOFUCKINGMENTION Everything ELSE in this whole entire world. You wanna get into that!? We can get into that!

Husband: "No. No. I don't want to get into anything. I'm just saying....."

Me: "Saying what, HUH?! That I'm a useless, fat slob who doesn't ever do anything and neglects my pets and you view me as an unfit mother who is a hoarder!?! Is THAT what you're saying because that's what I'm getting"

Husband: "Babe. I know you're on your period right now, and you're super crazy, so can we just talk about this in like... a week..?"

Me: "NO. AND PACK YOUR OWN LUNCHES FROM NOW ON!"

I stomped up the stairs, went in my bedroom and locked the door. I did my normal routine of face washing, zit popping, teeth brushing and moisturizing. I went to get into bed all to find the husband in MY room. The room I had LOCKED HIM OUT OF.

Me: "How do you keep getting in here everytime I lock you out"

Husband: (Wise ass smirk) It's a locked door in my own house, not Fort Knox.

Me: "Why are you even in here? We're fighting. And unless you have a ferret, I really don't want to talk to you"

Husband: leans over and in the most gentle loving way, kisses me on the forehead. "I love you sweetie"

Me: (Now bawling) I, I, I loooove you tooo--hooo-hoooo

Husband: "Why are you crying?"

Me: "I, I doooon't eveeeeen knooooow! I'm soooorrryyy... I lo, lo, love you soooo oh ooo much. I'm fucking crraahhh aayyyzzzy. I doooon't knooow whaaat's wrong with me."

Husband: (Holding back uncontrolable laughing) "Yeah. Sometimes you're a little challenging but that's why I love you."

Me: (Laughing and bawling at the same fucking time) "Yeah. We don't need a ferret. You were right"

Husband: "Glad that's cleared up. Sweet dreams"

Me: (Snot wipe) "You toooo oooo oooo"


Saint I tell you.

A few key points.

Things have been a little..... meh lately.

I've had a few ideas for some posts, but when I sit down to give er' hell, I just....meh.

SO.

I thought I'd share just a few key points with anyone who may still be reading this sad excuse of a blog.

I'm currently spending more time running than I spend drinking.... Which, Is a pretty fucking big deal if you ask me.

I'm also fatter than I ever have been, which TELL ME HOW THAT'S EVEN POSSIBLE!?!?!?

I'm pretty much just an overachievingmultitaskingmotherfucker.

Uh, I took up Yoga. Which, saying that makes me want to give myself a swirly in the girls locker room and hang my own panties from a flagpole. Surprisingly though, I actually, kind of like it. My next Yoga adventure is going to take place on a pole. A stripper pole. Because, why NOT incorporate strippers into everyday everything!? Right?!

On that same note, I just got back from a few magical days in the land of stiff drinks, gambling and pasties.
No, sadly not Vegas...........
17th next best thing? Wendover.

Wanna make a bet?
I bet you, you lucky reader you, that strippers who keep money OUT OF THEIR MOUTH make more money than strippers who think it's sexy to put dirty-ass currency in their orifices.
Nothing makes me cringe more than when strippers take your dollar with their mouth.
I'm pretty sure money is the dirtiest thing on this earth, next to Khloe Kardashian.
Aaaaand I think it was the cause of the plague.
Dirty money in strippers mouths and rats. Take THAT history books.


All in filthy all, It was a pretty tittastic weekend. I was with a bunch of bad ass friends and family, who, I'm pretty sure could venture to the 7th circle of hell with me and we'd still make it enjoyable.

Aight yall. I gotta run. I've minimized this page 572 times and I keep getting interrupted and it's totally making me lose my Bloggy chi.
Don't worry. I'll get it back tonight in yoga class.

Namaste, bitches.