I think I'm possessed.
Or maybe there's something I need to change in my diet.
Like seriously, Idk what's wrong with me.
There has been some kind of gargantuan spike in my hormones.
I feel like I'm turning into an animal. A vicious one.
last week the plumber came to fix the sink that's been leaking for like 6 years
and OMG you guys
he looked like Shawn Michaels.
|He has the most perfect rear end that God ever bestowed upon a man.|
I had to leave the house. I went to run it off at the gym, because otherwise I think I'd have been arrested for sexual assault.
Paul#2 is getting afraid of me.
He tried to give me some bullsh*t over the weekend about being too tired/drunk (read: he wants to lay there and do nothing while I do all the work)
and I was like ummmmmmmmmmmm that doesn't really work for me.
.........Tired or no, afterwards he slept like baby for a solid 10 hours.
Then I felt like a giant whore yesterday because I had to go to CVS and get Plan B (or whatever the generic version is called).
(Then again I suppose feeling like a whore for 5-10 minutes with the pharmacist is a better choice than making my sister throw me down the stairs a few months from now.)
Some purchases will always be awkward. You wouldn't think so in this day and age. I mean we all know that women have their monthlies and need tampons, or that sometimes your bowels get a lil irregular and you need laxatives, or that it is normal for people to have sex and thus require condoms; but it's still nerve-wracking actually going out to buy these things.
Like buying your super-turbo-plus tampons. That is never NOT awkward. Because the person at the register is always
a teenage boy.
Whoever got the bright idea to put "Gentle Glide" on a box of tampons should be punched in the uterus because slapping a box of those down on the CVS counter where the sexually frustrated fifteen-year-old can see them and know that they are going somewhere he has never been is the most awkward thing that can ever happen.
I used to love the self checkout in the A&P. I thought it was the greatest invention ever, because you could go buy your pads and tampons and baby butt cream (for dry noses and freshly-shaved bikini lines) and Ex-Lax and condoms without having to deal with those awkward moments and judgmental sideways glances.
But of course, because it's ME and I was apparently given the Murphy's-Law-Fairy instead of a guardian angel like everyone else, the second time I tried doing my stealth-awkward-grocery-item-shopping, the mf self checkout turned on me.
The machine apparently had some trouble reading the bar code on a box of tampons.
Why the customer-needs-help alarms on those self checkout machines need to be at the same decibel as a Slayer concert when the attendant is only three feet away is beyond me.
So every single person in the A&P got a good look at me with my giant box of tampons in my hand, and the remaining items in my basket:
I was baking later. I swear.
Pardon me while I go attempt to seduce the new FedEx guy.