No good deed goes unpunished

When I get home from work, I tell The Man, if you have anything that needs to go to the cleaners, give it to me, because I've got errands to run. He's gone for ten minutes. And he comes back with a bag as big as Santa's sack. Take that any way you want. Ahem.

I just look at him. WTF, dude?

Well. You've got stuff in this bag too, he says.

So I drag this bag to my car. Go to pick up The Brat's bus pass, stop by the beauty supply place 'cause I need hair stuff. And then I head to the cleaners.

The lady just looks at me as I pull shirt after freakin' shirt outta this bag. I feel like this is some sort of magic bag, and eventually I'm gonna pull out a rabbit or some shit. And under my breath, I'm saying ... Is this m'fer SERIOUS? I thought I had some shit in this bag too.

Oh, look. There it is!

Let's tally this, shall we?

The Man                                           Me

15 shirts                                           1 Cream Slacks
6 pants                                             1  Black Dress
1 FREAKING PEA COAT

He better be glad I had money to pay this NOW, so that I could get a discount. Because I would be mad as hell if I would have had to pay $100 damn dollars because he tricked me into taking every shirt he owned to the dry cleaners all at once.

Sometimes when I don't know what to write about...

I don't write about anything.

 I just kinda look at my blog languish, and think, "but my life is so interesting! I went to Wango Tango!(don't ask...or, don't ask YET), my family is ridiculous!, my job is driving me crazy!" But, in reality, I'm also super busy. THANK GOD (no, really) for my spring semester being over. Homework, and studying, and worrying about passing Managerial Accounting was keeping me extremely busy.

And then I don't have time to write all of the things that I want to write down, when I want to write them down. And then they kind of become fleeting thoughts:

I was in Vegas this weekend, and Monday when I should have been getting up and getting ready to flee that place, I was watching Maury. Also known as The New Jerry. Does Jerry Springer even still come on television? WHY DO THESE PEOPLE ON MAURY ALWAYS LOOK SO SURPRISED THEY GOT SOMEBODY PREGNANT? DO THEY NOT KNOW HOW SEX WITHOUT CONDOMS WORK?! Is Maury single handedly keeping that DNA place in business with all his shows about baby daddies?


My friends and I always take the most ridiculous pictures. This Vegas trip was no exception. I really hope she frames this and hangs it in the living room.


I had no idea that I was going to like Lady Gaga.Or T-Pain. Turns out T-Pain puts on a REALLY GOOD SHOW. 


Why do I always have to convince people that I have a son that's 21 years old? Who lies about that?! Related: YES. I know I look young. 


You know it's bad when I say "I'm going to Vegas" and the girl who does my nails says AGAIN? WTF, dude? I've only gone ONCE this year.


It SO SUCKS that I didn't get to go to Okinawa.


I love carpooling/saving gas money/ getting free stuff from work, I sometimes hate my carpool partner, aka Mr. Toad.


See what I mean? These random thoughts could totally be blog posts. Maybe I'll put all of these random thoughts into a hat and pick one.

People do that right?

So in other news, I'm still not ready...

I took The Brat shopping today.

I didn't want to. But, the bathing suit from last year is too small. And she was all "I NEED A BATHING SUIT." And I guess she kinda does, because her BFF has a pool and she spends a ridiculous amount of time over there. This year she asked for a bikini. A BIKINI.

I've been dodging the issue of bikinis since she started high school. Because you know: BIKINI. ON MY BABY. Can you hear my internal screaming? Because I am screaming on the inside. And a little bit on the out.

I tell The Man that we're going looking for bathing suits. His response is to get a one-piece. I do not respond. Because I already know that's not going to happen. And I don't want to fight before I even start the car.

Off we go. My requirements: No string, no thongs, and if you can't use it to actually SWIM, I'm not even going to look in its general direction. (Thanks, Grace. That's an EXCELLENT rule). I KNOW, MOMMY. Well, I'm just saying because I don't want there to be any confusion as to what kind of bikini I'm going to buy for my 15 year old baby daughter.

We grab a few. I also add that I AM NOT buying a bikini with cherries on it. WTF?! I really should have waited until I had back up for this. Did I mention that I hate shopping for bathing suits --even when they aren't for me? Anyways, we decide to try on the 2 finalists. She tries on bathing suit #1. It's cute. It's got boyshort bottoms. I take a picture and send it to her aunts. She tries on bathing suit #2. It's got a ruffle, and it is ALSO CUTE. I take another picture.

I like them both, Brat. Which do you like better? She likes them both too. I'm leaning toward #2, because it's not only super cute, it's in her favorite color. Then I get the texts about the bathing suits, there is wailing because my baby is growing up and she LOOKS like a real live teenager in her suit. BUT. If these are the choices, everyone likes choice #2. So we put the first one back. It has been decided. We grab some shorts and a few tank tops and break for lunch.

And, I get a text from a friend who must have gotten her texts late:
She looks so grown up! WHY???

Me: Welcome to my world. I don't like it here. Gah!


In case you were interested, here is the winning suit

NOT the Brat