Seems everyone is doing something but me. I try to get myself out of bed this morning and the weight of my unhappiness made my girth shift from one end of the uneven bed to the other but the motivation just wasn’t there!
It wasn’t there when I attempted to change my bra from being two days old and still on to brand new, at least, to me and semi fresh lying miserably in a heap in the corner of the attic.
The voices haunted my dreams, Ambien, Ambien, wake up and think! Ambien put two and two together for once.
What an eerie voice! It is a cross between my Mum and Bella from the Twilight series. Starring up at the ceiling, stilled weighed down by my now definitely out of shape and over nourished breasts; I had no idea about what I needed to think about. WTF? Who is this voice and is there a medication I can take for it?
Rolling over like a pig in slop I happened to see an official document lying next to my McDouble wrapper. It had been something I needed to sign for AmeriCorps. Volunteering to be an adult had been Mother Theresa’s idea but it would have at least got my fat ass out of Concord.
Then it hit me. That message. Where is that message? I know I have it somewhere.
Ah, there it is!
To whom it may concern:
….She does have some severe mental impairments that I believe volunteering such a distance away and not taking her medications, wish she will not because she doesn’t want to get turned down for…will only add to her depression…
Blah, blah, blah, blah..
How could I have thought that was just a joke? After all the sex I offered up. After the heart pumping interrogations by both the Canterbury Police and NH Fish and Game about what two women would be doing half dress in the woods, after all that, I still dropped the ball.
I dropped the ball literally before. Having been a second string player in love and tennis, I challenged Kate to a game of basketball. If she wins, she could fuck me. If I win I’d let her fuck me even harder.
I loss. Tried to look smooth and polished when I just looked like Chas Bono post-surgery with a bad sense of rhythm.
. Worse yet, I ran into a metal pole showing off my adoption of white bread coordination. Proving there is no style in Ambien Grace.
Shit, fuck, shit! I need to text someone. Zoey, that’s who, she’ll help fuel my ignorance with her ignorance and then we can be bounded in, you guessed it, Double Mint ignorance!
Kate had this planned out from the beginning and all the way up to the ‘not done with you yet’, end. How could anyone know what my choices would be? How could she have guessed that I would never admit to being lesbian?
And, most importantly, my blank slate? How does someone with a tailored fit education not manage to lose the bad pair of genes they had been born with?
Ugh!
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view. Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view. Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view. Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view. Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view. Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view. Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view. Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.