When Life Grabs You By The Proverbial Balls And Yanks…Hard.

You yelp.

And fine, it may be a slight exaggeration. But…it’s MY slight exaggeration.

But really…

It causes all sorts of writers type blockage. And ADD type symptoms such as, non-stop thoughts running through your head. And neck cramps. And insomnia. And OK, fine…constipation. Or maybe THAT is just a lack of fiber in my shitty-ass, water and toxin retaining diet. Note to self: look in to colon cleansing…

So yeah. Things are a little…um…ridiculously stressful right now.

I’ve got this mega huge Bat Mitzvah that I’m planning. On the teeniest, tiniest, minutest budget. And because everything is so fucking expensive, I just sit and stare at my computer, when I should be ordering from Oriental Trading. And booking the D.J. And looking at caterers menus. And doing stuff…that at every turn, costs $1000. OMG.

Really, I should be trying to plan this event without resentment because this darling little girl, who is about to become a woman in accordance with Jewish tradition and law…she deserves this party. This celebration. It’s NOT her fault that this piddly little amount of money that has been set aside for her Bat Mitzvah, should be going towards other things. For example, the repair on my aged and decrepit car that moans and writhes in agony when the key even comes close to the ignition. Or, perhaps on the down payment of a car that would greet the key like a horny school girl. Not to mention, bills. Bills. And more bills.

But I can’t resent. I can just…grit my teeth. And dish out the dough to all the various people, whose products will make up a whole party. And try to keep the running mantra out of my head that chants “What a waste of money. Should have just had the brunch. What a waste of fucking money. Should have insisted on just the brunch.” SIGH…

While I’m on the subject of the Bat Mitzvah and my angst…

The egg donor. Where is she during all this planning? OK, really…I don’t care if she helps with the actual getting the act together. Just show me the money? Stop making empty promises. And give me the money. And yes, she is lucky that her name is on the invite. The hilarity of it was…she was shocked. And she thanked me. For including HER name on HER daughters Bat Mitzvah invitation. Holy Hell. But again. Who cares about whose name is where on what. Just give me money. Some money. Any amount would be great. It would help. So hand it over. Thank you very little. Oh yeah, by the way, congratulations on someone marrying you. And another thing…I’ve never planned a Bat Mitzvah either. It doesn’t matter that I was born Jewish and you weren’t. Making this type of party for the first time, is the first time…no matter what religion you were born. Nice try though. ANYWAY…

On to the next bitchfest…

My life.

The whining has reached astronomical proportions. It makes the threat of the Swine Flu seem…welcoming. Although, that whole Swine Flu thing is kinda RIDICULOUS. Unless, of course, you actually have it. Then…feel better. Load up with Tamiflu…

Back to the whining. And complaining. And this one did that. And that one is getting this and It’s. NOT. FAIR.

SHUT. THE FUCK. UP. All of you. You’re making my brain ooze out of my ear drums. And my teeth are curling. And if you don’t quit it…I’m going to bitch slap you. All of you. Right down the line. Boom. Bam. Boom. Bam. Ka-blam.

I need a vacation. Badly.

Or there is going to be a TON of people in my life that have my hand print on their faces or butts.

Calgon..take me…

Fuck Calgon…

Blogher…take me away!!!

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