Wow. This post really went awry. Is that how you spell "awry"? This really went a-rye. P.S. The hub hates rye but I totally dig it. Freakin' Rueben's? Come on!

So summer's over and The Boy went back to school this week. And ya know what? It was really good timing cuz I'm having PMS from hell this week and am kinda bouncing back and forth between crying about stuff and wanting to stab stuff. So it really is for best if The Boy is out of the house for most of the day. Unfortunately, however, The Cat is still here. All day. Meowing and following me and trying to sit on me and touching me and rubbing on me and just generally making my life a living hell. As my long time readers know, I agreed to get The Boy a cat due to the fact that cats are easy and they sleep a lot and they hide from people and  they really like to be alone most of the time. But this cat's different. Mostly cuz she's the re-incarnation of an old dude who used to stalk me in college. Not that we have any confirmation that he's dead, but I am completely positive that he's in her little cat body watching my every move and saying "I love you" in meow language all freakin' day. Trust me on this one. I'm very perceptive to things like ghosts and shit. I did, however, just make the discovery that she shuts up if I sing a combination of Opera, Sound of Music songs,  and ghostly "Woooo" noises. So, that's definitely gonna be a thing around this house from now on. Who knows. Maybe it will make The Boy and The Hub shut up too. A dreamer never stops dreaming.

So after I wrote those first three sentences up there ^ I totally spaced out for an entire hour due to the fact that I heard a lawnmower outside and looked out there and started thinking about Little House On The Prairie and how they didn't have lawn mowers. Or refrigerators. Or blenders. Or tampons. Or margaritas. Or soda. Which made me think about Laverne and Shirley and how Laverne always drank milk and Pepsi. And I totally loved Laverne so one time I made myself a glass of it and decided that Laverne had some major problems cuz that shit sucked balls. So then I started to think about balls, and how the kid riding the Unicorn Bike that I want MORE THAN AIR IN MY LUNGS must have some huge freakin' balls to be seen out in public on that thing and how he should probably give it to me so he won't be teased and how people suck cuz I can't seem to get anyone to build me one even though I've been asking, like, really super nicely and I would probably flash them a boob in exchange for the bike of my dreams and I would name it Bertrand Bueller Bikeicorn III and we would be oh so happy. Then I started thinking about what color mane I wanted him to have, which made me think about my hair and how it's too short and looks like I have that disease where you lose your hair and how if you had that disease at least your pubic area would always be smooth without the pain of a Brazilian wax but how way more people see your head than your secret garden so it really isn't worth it. Unless you're a hooker or a stripper cuz those sluts usually wear wigs so they can look more big-haired and whorey. Which made me think about all the big hair I had in high school, but that was because it was in style and not because I was a hooker. Although I really should have gotten paid to make out with a few of the boys I made out with due to the fact that one was a really slobbery kisser and one had really bad breath and touched my boobs so hard I think he thought they were punching bags and maybe his dad should have taught him how to do that right because boys are stupid and clumsy and need information like that. And I wondered if there was some way I could get those boys to pay me now, 20-something years later. And add on some kind of interest.

And this is the honest truth.

My brain has some issues staying focused on things when Paul Rudd is not involved.

The other day on Facebook I said something about how I am pretty positive that I have adult-onset ADHD and a girl I knew from school said that was the most shocking thing I've ever said cuz she had Home-Ec with me in Junior High and if I think that I didn't have ADHD back then I'm in denial. And so I started thinking back on my childhood and I realized that she was 100% right. I was an un-diagnosed ADHD sufferer and I felt really screwed that I did not get the extra attention I deserved nor did I get to use that as an excuse for everything I did. So I was pretty mad. But then I got distracted by the memory of 9th grade Home-Ec and the blue hammer pants I made and then got to model/dance in for my class and I got happy again.

And this blog post was supposed to be about how I went to the doctor Monday and found out he's trying to turn me into a really cheap-ass SOBER robot, and how I'm having mega-bad PMS and how yesterday I broke a glass and hurt my head and got even more brain damage than I already had.  But I got distracted. So I'll try to write about all that later. Unless someone mows their lawn. Then all bets are off.

I can hardly even look at this without crying from pure desire.