It has been one of those days. Like the kind a pint of Blue Bell can't fix. The kind of day Joe needs to wear a helmet. And he did. Maybe I woke up on the wrong side of the bed... though that's unlikely. I could blame "dream Joe" (the joe that enters my dreams but really acts very little like the actual Joe. He has a "dream Joelynn". She's psycho. And a B-word. And a hussy. It is my firm belief that if he would kill and burn "dream Joelynn" like the witch that she is, that my actual real life moods would improve) since he refused to kill the snakes infesting the pond I was trying to sunbathe in. Darn you dream Joe. I hate snakes. But no, that's not the issue. I don't think anything could have caused / improved this wreck of a day.
I'm going to bypass telling you about the morning / afternoon since I would like to maintain a healthy marriage. And I don't want to rat the Coach out on why he possibly didn't help my crummy mood... who forgets to pick up some very important bedding from the dry cleaners for an entire month?!?! But no, I won't rat him out like that. Just not my style. So lets flash to about 5:30 pm.
I was (like I said) in a slump. And when this happens, typically a relaxing, wonderfully uplifting trip to my favorite manicurist helps boost my spirits. Biggest problem is that this said mani man is in CS. Not Brenham. Only a 50-minute drive. But when in a witchy mood, sometimes 50 minutes can set you into a straight twitching fit. But at that point, I was more than willing to risk it. So in my car I go. Being the type ADD case that I am, I can never go for a drive without being on the phone. Thank you hands free phone technology. I typically call Joe first, followed by my immediate family. But since the pointed hat was still within arms reach, I decided to first try my parentals. No answer... that's right, they're in WY with big brother numero uno. So I ran to big brother numero dos. Success! I talk to Ryan 1 (I have two blood brothers and two BILs.... 3 of which are named Ryan. Seriously. You can't make that kind of thing up. And you thought the whole Joe^squared thing was weird... That's just the start of it) pretty often, he is *sappy comment alert* my best friend and the person I respect the most in life. Tonight's convo took place in a horse barn. No seriously. Molly and Ryan 1 have ponies. It's special. They (the ponies) hate me. Hence my fear of ponies. Anyway... while he was leaving the barn he had a brief turrets moment, cursed like a Donough and said he had to call me back because my amazing 3-year-old nephew, Maddox, was throwing up all over himself. He called me right back, said Mad-Man was fine and even said he had good spirits about the whole ordeal. Ryan said Maddox said... and I quote "I have vomit in my pocket". Holy poo I almost got in a wreck I was laughing so hard. Just awesome. Guess you had to be there/know the situation. But the story continues......
So I make it to my mani man... and my day of doom continues. How can this be? Johnny, Johnny, Johnny... how many times do we need to go over this? I like my nails the length and strength that they are. It's been 6 months since these nails have seen glue or acrylic and I would really like to keep them going in this positive, healthy direction. And no, I do not want them ROUNDED... who are you? Why are you suddenly acting like you haven't been my mani man for the past four years?! Then... oh THEN... he asked what color I was feeling. My response? Bubble-gum pink, hold the shimmer/glitter/metallic nonsense. I'm not ten. I like my nails simple. Not tacky. Doesn't go well with my lazy persona. So what am I looking down at? Ten nails that look like a unicorn took a poo on. Don't get me wrong, it isn't terrible... it has just been that kind of day. I hate to sound like a chapter of 'White Girl Problems' ( Babe Walker, you are my icon ), but this is my blog and today I want it to sound like the rambles of a crazy, spoiled little brat. Hmph.
The day continues... I went to the super-market to restock on our fridge of fresh and yummy produce. While closely inspecting celery hearts, my face was slapped with a terrifyingly cold and unannounced mist of... I pray water. My reaction was a high squeak/jump combo that I'm sure was rather annoying to endure. The young gent picking out produce nearby saw this reaction and decided to laugh.. and followed this up with a half-donkied attempt to make small talk... over produce. Dear God, what did I do to deserve this? Well, in a snap his lady friend appearing person swooped in and (shouting in my general direction) said "NO! We only eat organic greens, honey!". Wha-wha-seriously?!?! Did you just say... really?!? I sure do hope girlfriend could not read minds. Then again, it would be good for her if she could. I'm take my produce/beef/everything with a little bit of chemicals, hormones and whatever else makes it grow better, faster, bigger and bug-free.
I sound crazy. Don't judge me. I sound needy. Don't judge me. This is my first 'pitty me' entry. Don't judge me. It's been a crummy day. One where pizza doesn't even taste good. Believe me, I tried. Don't judge me.
But then again, it could be worst. I could be doing Maddox's laundry tonight... hmmm.
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