I'm stymied. Stuck. Frozen. Shut down. My friends, the world is akimbo and I'm a standing still. Unable to decide what to worry about most.
I'm simply crazy but I can't decide whether I'm bat shit crazy or ape shit crazy. I mean - bat shit crazy has that exotic "my life is worse than your life" feel that I usually go for. But frankly, this particular time period in my life I think I'm more "crazy baboon ass monkey throwing its own feces" crazy.
What, pray tell, has me so wonky?
I'm moving. In about 9 days. Of course, I just figured this out so like all things in my life I'm doing this half-assed and in a hurry. No big shocker there.
I'm living with the POD. Can't decide whether to go all old school, fire and brimstone, you're gonna burn hell and take away the 20 condoms (TWENTY, PEOPLE! TWENNNNNNTEEEEE!) I found in her purse. And before anybody points it out, yes, I know she's having more sex than I am and yes, I will kick the ever-living snot out of the first jackass that feels it is necessary to point this out to me.
I'm living with the POD, part deux. I don't know whether to be disturbed at the fact that she is smoking or that I found a pack of Marlboro Reds in her purse. I mean, REDS? What is she - a fucking truck driver? Does she fancy herself a Marlboro man? The first person that points out that she probably enjoys herself a nice smoke after blowing through a 20 pack of condoms will be cursed to such an extent that all testicular hair will be releasing itself into your drawers in such a manner as to cause excessive itching and embarassing social situation (especially if you don't have testicles).
I'm still fielding phone calls from Captain Nutty. Captain keeps calling and practically begging to come down and help me pack. However, the little sane person that lives deep in the recesses of my brain keeps calling me telling me, "For the love of all that's holy, are you fucking nuts? Don't let that nutcase within 500 miles of this cluster fuck or I will pack up what little sanity you have left and head for the hills never to be seen from again." Frankly, I tend to side with the little sane voice in my head. If not for that little voice, I would already be in Montana doing my best Unabomber impression.
Those seem to be the major themes but they are often accompanied by one of the following worries:
1. The dimples on my ass are starting to dimple.
2. My skank ass cousin is abandoning me for the wilds of Alabama (whore's getting married and she all thinks she deserves her own life! How ridiculous!)
3. My clients are getting stupider (and yes, I see the irony in calling THEM "stupider") by the minute such that I'm concerned if I do not clear up their cases in a timely fashion, they will all be drooling, incoherent morons that are unable to figure out how to write me a check.
4. And seriously? Have you seen the commercial for the new Amazing bar? The one where M&M's and a chocolate bar are parked on lover's lane? And they're all cozy in the back of a station wagon? And then, bammo, you got yourself a chocolate bar with M&M's in it? I REALLY DON'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT MY CANDY HAVING SEX! THAT IS SO DISGUSTING.
5. I went to the old Law School Reunion where I was informed that the majority of my classmates have donated $1,000 a piece to the new development fund. When did the rest of my classmates start hitting the crack pipe?
6. AND I'M FUCKING MOVING IN 9 DAYS BUT I'M WORRIED THAT I HAVEN'T BLOGGED!!!!
Me must go drink now. Me have headache. Me see monkey with big steaming pile of poo heading this way.