Tuesday, January 9, 2007

You're a bitch, but I love you anyway - Xtian's mantra

Either the plague is nearly upon me, or I need about 15 hours of sleep a night. Me = Tired. And achy. And bitchy (your honor, I’d like to submit into evidence “People’s Exhibit 2.7: Last night”). You ever have those days where you can hear and see yourself being a bitch, but are powerless to stop it? Yeah, me too. Luckily 20 minutes on the couch with a little kitty and a little Captain really did quite a bit to improve my mood.

My favorite part of being a completely unreasonable bitch is watching Xtian attempt to navigate the conversation without being obliterated by a death stare or verbal assault. I’m pretty sure I completely lost my shit over a pair of socks that weren’t mine he attempted to put in my drawer. (I’d like to reiterate that he married me WILLINGLY.) Every time I ask a question, his eyes get big, and his mouth starts moving without any sound and you can actually see every brain particle searching desperately for a way to answer in a way that I can’t possibly use against him. Oh, silly, silly naïve Xtian. I can use anything anyone says against them.

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And I’d like to offer my apologies to anyone offended by my post yesterday. Generally, I forget how public this medium is, and often I don’t express myself all that well. My writing here is of a self-exploratory nature. Mostly, I know that religious folks are just doing their things and don’t mean any harm. I was trying to figure out why I get so defensive over what I perceive to be judgments. In my head I know that we’re all doing the best we can with what we’ve got, and very few people in the world actually aim to hurt others. But sometimes my brain forgets to communicate with the rest of me.

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Plans for the ThreeWay Bday GrownFolks SleepOver Extravaganza are underway. Jen, Xtian and my birthdays all fall within a week of each other. So, we’ve decided to throw one big giant sleepover. There will be food. There will be booze. There will be board games; cheesy movies and hopefully someone’s underpants end up in the freezer. There will be at least 4 hours of insufferably obnoxious Coley in Planning Mode. (Anyone who’s seen this in action can attest to how ridiculous I get while planning an event. Why do I feel the need to sterilize the bathroom tiles underneath the cabinets AND bleach the grout in the kitchen? Your guess is as good as mine.)
I haven’t thrown myself a birthday party in probably… 10 years. In fact, I’m pretty certain my last birthday party was when I was in elementary school. Yikes. The funny thing is, I LOVE to throw parties. I like to surprise people, and since I don’t do religion, I tend to treat birthdays like a holy day. You get at least a full week of getting everything you want, and you should be Queen/King for as long as you can get away with it. Birthdays are a full on celebration of the person’s fabulosity.

And since there are three of us celebrating that day, I expect three times the fabulous, and at least quadruple the Diva-ness. Hopefully, I’ll actually remember to take pictures this time. (Blackmail is always an excellent way to deal with the post-holiday Blahs.)

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