This Message is brought to you by an unhappy fat girl.

Scene:

No makeup, ponytail. Lose fitting green sweater and white sneakers.

Large cup of milk. Bag of oreos. Answering phone and reading blogs at the same time.

There is no shame in my game.

I really don’t know what is up with me lately. Use to be that when I would crave chocolate and be blah and annoyed and aggravated and want to lay in bed for three days with my head under the covers it was because of two reason. Boy trouble or lack of sex. I’m not having an issue with either. R is amazing and sweet. I didn’t feel well last night so I laid down at 9ish and he did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. And as for sex, well trust me… the boy has no shame in his game either.

Still, funk. Funky Funk. Funkiest of the Funky Funk. That’s me. I’m still that girl.

I could blame it on exhaustion. Two jobs wasn’t easy but now I’m about to cross the threshold of three and I’m scared. I’m going to never have a moment to breathe.

I could blame it on my main job. I am getting to a point to where I don’t know why I care so much. I continuously get thrown under the bus by Ms. Tool and The Caveman I call a production manager. I hate being held responsible for something I don’t understand or have no control over. It’s ridiculous is what it is.

I could blame it on the wedding planning. The fact that our semi-perfect site is turning out to be more of a hassle then we anticipated. It’s a beautiful site but we have to worry about weather, and the fact that there is no indoor pluming, and the $1200 for tables, chairs, tents and singing Chimpanzees. Ok, so maybe we’re not getting a singing Chimp or even a Gorilla that knows the Canadian national anthem. For that price though, I feel like we should be. And the fact that it’s an hours drive for me, which means it’s a ridiculous drive for my mother who let me know how inconvenient it is.

Really mom, you couldn’t save $60 in the next 262 days to buy the gas to get to Gold Hill and back. I’m sorry, how insensitive of me. I forgot for a second who my wedding day was all about. Opps.

So I try to come up with a nice solution. We don’t wanna get married in a church, but need to reduce the risk of rain and random bitching due to the heat in late June. What about a theatre, oh… there’s one in Lincolnton that I just SO happen to have grown up in and around. It’s available that day? Chairs and linens and location and tables included. Barely $1000? Wow, wow. Perfect. P-E-R-FECT. Let me get my fiances opinion.

::crickets:: R? ::more crickets::

Please.Develop.An.Opinion.

I’m this close to running away to the courthouse and following in my mothers footsteps. Bluejeans and bad 70’s hair in all.

But yeah, lets blame this funk on exhaustion. On the fact that I’m working when I’d rather be in bed. On the fact that tonight I will be working when I’d rather be taking a nap. That life sucks in general when you’re 20 something, planning a wedding, and working three jobs.

I’d love to get away for a few days. I guess a sugar induced coma will have to suffice.

Back to the now half eaten bag of oreos next to me.

Le.Sigh.

~ by kirbyann on October 2, 2008.