Bacon, Zombies And Sunshine Whore

19 May

I may need bail money today. First I did not sleep. I had really heroic intentions to sleep. Eat early, wash face, get in jammies and settle in for night at decent hour. I usually stay up late and stare at a laptop screen. Mostly looking at gross stuff. Because gross stuff like hoarders, weird surgeries, reattached penises and pictures of freakish diseases delight me. Between train wrecks and pictures of what mustard gas does to your skin, I  tweak my bloggity, Face Book, Twitter and  wonder why my checking account doesn’t have a million bucks in it yet and am I past the appropriate age to start a stripping career.  But mostly gross stuff keeps me up. And coffee. And zombies…I heart zombies!

In bed by 10:30. And by in bed I mean I had my soft fuzzy blanket wrapped around me and tucked under my feet so the creepers under the bed can’t get me and my pillow tucked under my head just right so my hair doesn’t tangle into my new ear bar that hurts like a mother fucker because I was trying to be a cool mom and got my ear cartilage pierced with The Girl. I also have this annoying J.O.B. that wants my ass in a chair, perfectly coiffed and smiley by 8 A.M. so I really need to sleep because no one has deposited a gazillion dollars into my bank account yet. Masochists. Selfish masochists. But then I couldn’t sleep. I kept waking up. Twice I got up and took a night time tour of the house. Maybe I shouldn’t have had those two Shiner Bocks. Maybe I shouldn’t have had bacon on my egg salad sammich because I know bacon especially gives me creepy dreams and  then I wake up and I’m afraid to go back to sleep. So then I go get a drink and sometimes maybe it’s a little tiny glass of wine. But I am guessing it was bacon’s fault. Clearly I have not headed the pig karma message I received (that story here) . Life lesson last night: bacon hates me, wine loves me. Loves me hard.  I am dead ass tired today. I didn’t even bother with hot rollers or eye shadow primer. I wore flats today. Cute flats- but not stilettos. I am at my desk- barely awake. Friend asks in a creepy what kind of fun did you have last night tone, “Wow, you must have had a good night?”. “Bacon”, I answer in a go ahead and say I don’t look cute and prepare to feel the wrath of my pink pedicured size 10 foot on the under side of your ball sack tone. Friend leaves. Quickly.

Enter Miss. Sunshine. She’s perky. She’s smiling and spreading warmth and glow all over my fucking cubicle. Go away Sunshine- before I duct tape your lips shut and set you on fire.
Miss Sunshine: “Hi how are you? OMG, it’s almost Fridaaaaaay!”
Cranky Cat: “Yep. That’s what the calendar says.”
Miss Crack Whore Sunshine: “Aw, did you have a bad evening?”. (Note: I hate baby talk. HATE. It.)
Cranky Mildly Homicidal Cat: “Bacon” out loud. “Bacon, Bitch”, in my head.
Crack Whore Sunshine: “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Mildly Homicidal Cat: I hold out my empty coffee cup and point to my cute but not stilettos flats.
Crack Whore : Looks at me and walks away. Scared.
Advertisements
%d bloggers like this: