All I can do is make the goodwill gesture. At least I can say I tried.
- I keep starting and deleting posts.
- I’m just not feeling it, and by it, I basically mean anything and everything.
- If this bitch mumbles something under her breath one more time…
- I’m not into the holidays so much this year. I was for a while, but then I just stalled out. I don’t care about making the rest of the cookies. I don’t care about shopping for presents. I don’t even care about getting presents. Fuck presents. It’s not like we don’t have enough shit as it is.
- I went to drop Bismarck off for his first day at doggy daycare this morning, but ended up driving off because that place was sketch as fuck. It’s looks like it’s at someone’s house. Fuck that shit. You need to warn a bitch about shit like that. My neighbor recommended them to me and now I want to give her all the side eye. I’m not leaving my dog at some grubby, meth shack to be neglected and likely leave with fleas. NO THANKS.
- Luckily, D has found a posh place in Chesterfield that is on my way to work and looks way more like what I was expecting. $400/month for doggy daycare. We’re those people now.
- Whatever. We can afford it.
- I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of paperwork.
- As per usual, incompetence abounds.
- I hate that shit where somebody waits until the last minute to do something, which then becomes an emergency for them, and then they think that means it is now also an emergency to me. NOPE.
- Managing people is the fucking worst sometimes. Sometimes I daydream about quitting and doing doc review instead.
- I had four Facebook messages this morning and three of them were friends/acquaintances asking for legal advice and/or help. #lawyerlife
- I’m so fucking chubby. *lol sob*
- I know, I know. “Oh, Jenn, your size small dress feels a little tight. Boo hoo poor baby.” But what the fuck ever this is my blog and I’ll do what I want, and I want to wine about my mom bod and chub roll.
- I’m grumpy as fuck today.
- And I have zero motivation right now to do anything about it.
- Honestly, though…beer would help. Beer me. Now. Please.
I fucking love Halloween. Always have. I’m glad I’m with someone now who doesn’t shame me for it.
That said, my ex looked sad when I left tonight. He likes having the family together, I think. I feel bad for his gf, honestly. It’s a whole thing.
I love Marilyn Manson. Idgaf. His covers of Personal Jesus and Sweet Dreams are fucking legit.
I had an hour long phone conversation today with a female colleague I’ve never cared for, but I’ve changed my mind about her. She’s smart and articulate and she’s paved the way for women like me in the bk bar. Mad props to her.
I can admit when I’ve been wrong.
In other news, I need to stop letting someone else get under my skin. What’s that meme about not letting people have space in your head??? That. STAHP.
I’m maintaining my weight and that’s my goal for the honeymoon. Because I’m going to DRINK.
Eat, drink, and be merry. For tomorrow we’re dying.
We’re out on the town tonight and I’m only blogging because D is picking up the bbq while I watch the drinks.
We’re watching PA2 when we get home.
Happy, happy. 💙
WHEW Dr. Frankenstone is fucking me up.
- Yesterday, I blocked someone on Facebook whom I’ve known for over thirty years because she is a selfish, trashy bitch who has to shit all over other people’s happiness, and I am done with her bullshit.
- I love that I can block incoming calls and texts from her, too. Bitch, bye.
- The Instagram block feature doesn’t work very well. That’s annoying. Like I can still see certain comments even though someone is blocked…wtf?
- That isn’t that big of a deal though because it was someone different (not the trashy bitch) and I mostly did it for her well being, not mine.
- A very odd situation occurred last night with the ex, and I’m not going to go into details here, but I just wanted to record it for future reference. D and the bestie think it’s all about trying to stay relevant in my life, which I suppose makes sense, but like he’s my son’s father so of course he’s relevant. I guess that’s easy for me to say, though. He didn’t just get married and give my son a new step-mother/family.
- I found out that this dude at my wedding was groping several of my female guests, and so now I’m going to have to cut this motherfucker.
- Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with people????
- I had a long talk with the bestie last night because she is super upset with a mutual friend who is in a relationship with a married man…but with his wife’s permission. They are poly. The bestie doesn’t approve, and I understand her concern comes from a good place, but I had to explain to her that we have to let people we love make their own way in life, even if we disagree with how they’re going about it.
- I don’t disagree with it, for the record. It’s not a lifestyle that would work for me, but you do you, baby. I know several poly people who are very happy. I just want my friends to be happy.
This article hits home for me.
Being a second wife and a stepmother is rather like learning to perfect a set of aerial maneuvers. There are seriously complicated stunts involved– trapeze artists have less difficulty in learning when to disappear and resurface at exactly the right moments than your average second wife.
Just a few weeks ago, D and I were chatting with Freya via FaceTime regarding her leg injury. Unexpectedly, his ex stepped into the frame and the two of them starting getting a bit snippy with one another. I turned around and left the room without saying anything, because I knew it wasn’t my place to be involved in that conversation. It’s not the first time it has happened, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. Such is life as the second wife. Hey, that rhymed!
- On repeat in my head.
- If this motherfucker doesn’t stop mansplaining me…
- Ugh never gonna happen.
- Please remind me why I even went to law school?
- D is leaving town this afternoon. Sigh.
- No kids at home tonight. Sigh.
- I’ve gotten exceptionally good at being fake to people, and the necessity for that just makes me really fucking sad.
- I’m trying not to be an asshole, but you’re not making it easy on me.
- I need a burrito tonight. Happening.