Good gravy! The weekend spiraled past me in a blur induced by way too much Thursday happy hour. that is not a typo. Thursday evening I invited one of my best friends Diane W. to meet me for a cocktail and a little catch-me-up. We haven't hung out in a few years, probably my fault; I'm a terrible friend. I don't like all the clinginess of most friends and am simply not touchy-feely emotional enough to sustain most female friends. Not that Di needed all that, she is much like me in that a hug and a few drinks and some little news will hold her over for a long while too. Truth is we have very little in common and yet at a time when our children were in school and times were tough for us all we bonded hard and fast.
Fact is she saved my life, quite literally on at least one occasion. When one has a huge handgun cocked, loaded and about a centimeter from your head you never quite forget the Momma who slaps the gun holders hand says "Stop it." She saved my lily white rear figuratively many times over and during those lean years she states that I helped her through them too. See, I am the Queen of the Cinder Block Empire, reigning white-trash deity and about as unapologetic as Gretchen Wilson's Redneck Woman anthem implies I might be while Di was the Rodeo Queen, horse grooming, riding, State Fair going all around upper middle class (or better) girl next door... when the door next door was an actual brick & stone built home, not one they hauled in on wheels. Yet some how our kids were freinds and we became friends too. I'm glad whatever I did passed so we can be friends again. I've missed her.
Well, Thursday night was a very thirsty one. With years of catching up to do, I frankly drank too dang much. Friday I felt like Dante from "Grandma's Boy" (I'm way to baked to drive to the devil's house!) Then comes Saturday and we have an appointment down town St. Louis. I mean DOWNTOWN under the arch, then a party in Wentzville (hundreds of miles away) to celebrate Quentin's getting his GED (remember Quentin? We talked about him last blog.) and to top it off my hubby's work BFF had asked us to come by his house... in Cahokia. We took the Harley and my ass logged about 400 miles on it that day. I hurt in places I had no idea could hurt. Sitting with that unnatural spread for hours on end makes one aware of every inch of huge ass, I assure you. My hips and thighs are killing me and my knees! Holy mother of pearl. The hooker giving $2.00 blow jobs outside the unemployment office's knees couldn't hurt any worse! Suffice it to say, I had several frosty cold adult libations that night as well. Yesterday I had Harley head & ass! LOL.
So without further ado the wicked week is upon me. The house looks like Diane rode rodeo through it, except her horses stall is probably cleaner and no doubt smells better. I have to get out of this chair and DO SOMETHING. No, really; I HAVE to. I have P>Drake and his brothers, the redheads McMunn and they are going to be up and rampaging like conquering Romans any time now. I'll have to wash a dish to make them cups of coffee. Oh, quit. Of course I don't give the redheads cups of coffee; that would be grandma suicide, they don't have ADD. P.Drake usually has a small cup a day but he processes it differently and it actually will call him down if he is over stimulated. Give that kid a daytime cold remedy guaranteed not to make him drowsy and its like Frankenstein stumbling around in the dark, but coffee he can handle.
Best thing about it being Monday? One Live to Live on ABC today at 1 central time. I am looking forward to it like I haven't anticipated a soap in many a year. It is firing on all cylinders, hitting all the right notes. Soapy perfection! Yes, I am going to address my feeling about the back stabbing Disney bitches who cancelled these iconic programs in this blog soon, but today I have to concentrate on not throwing up, cleaning this skank box and entertaining some delightful grand children until my soaps come on and I can loose myself in them. It's about time they were pulled out of the shitter enough we could look forward to them again!
Fact is she saved my life, quite literally on at least one occasion. When one has a huge handgun cocked, loaded and about a centimeter from your head you never quite forget the Momma who slaps the gun holders hand says "Stop it." She saved my lily white rear figuratively many times over and during those lean years she states that I helped her through them too. See, I am the Queen of the Cinder Block Empire, reigning white-trash deity and about as unapologetic as Gretchen Wilson's Redneck Woman anthem implies I might be while Di was the Rodeo Queen, horse grooming, riding, State Fair going all around upper middle class (or better) girl next door... when the door next door was an actual brick & stone built home, not one they hauled in on wheels. Yet some how our kids were freinds and we became friends too. I'm glad whatever I did passed so we can be friends again. I've missed her.
Well, Thursday night was a very thirsty one. With years of catching up to do, I frankly drank too dang much. Friday I felt like Dante from "Grandma's Boy" (I'm way to baked to drive to the devil's house!) Then comes Saturday and we have an appointment down town St. Louis. I mean DOWNTOWN under the arch, then a party in Wentzville (hundreds of miles away) to celebrate Quentin's getting his GED (remember Quentin? We talked about him last blog.) and to top it off my hubby's work BFF had asked us to come by his house... in Cahokia. We took the Harley and my ass logged about 400 miles on it that day. I hurt in places I had no idea could hurt. Sitting with that unnatural spread for hours on end makes one aware of every inch of huge ass, I assure you. My hips and thighs are killing me and my knees! Holy mother of pearl. The hooker giving $2.00 blow jobs outside the unemployment office's knees couldn't hurt any worse! Suffice it to say, I had several frosty cold adult libations that night as well. Yesterday I had Harley head & ass! LOL.
So without further ado the wicked week is upon me. The house looks like Diane rode rodeo through it, except her horses stall is probably cleaner and no doubt smells better. I have to get out of this chair and DO SOMETHING. No, really; I HAVE to. I have P>Drake and his brothers, the redheads McMunn and they are going to be up and rampaging like conquering Romans any time now. I'll have to wash a dish to make them cups of coffee. Oh, quit. Of course I don't give the redheads cups of coffee; that would be grandma suicide, they don't have ADD. P.Drake usually has a small cup a day but he processes it differently and it actually will call him down if he is over stimulated. Give that kid a daytime cold remedy guaranteed not to make him drowsy and its like Frankenstein stumbling around in the dark, but coffee he can handle.
Best thing about it being Monday? One Live to Live on ABC today at 1 central time. I am looking forward to it like I haven't anticipated a soap in many a year. It is firing on all cylinders, hitting all the right notes. Soapy perfection! Yes, I am going to address my feeling about the back stabbing Disney bitches who cancelled these iconic programs in this blog soon, but today I have to concentrate on not throwing up, cleaning this skank box and entertaining some delightful grand children until my soaps come on and I can loose myself in them. It's about time they were pulled out of the shitter enough we could look forward to them again!
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