I didn't know the band would be at the Independent and didn't go to it either. A moment of being hit on and not really being sure whether or not dude was so bold as to do that in front of the chef. Not just any chef, his chef aka my chef. Following along yet? Thought so.
Totally done with 2nd grade and all the grossness that being 7,8,9 implies - farts, balls, you get the picture. I also didn't realize being a single mother meant every MAN that I talk to gets to voice his opinion on how a boy should be raised. Seriously. If a man's mother fucked him up so badly that he feels compelled to discuss my only offspring and doesn't yet have kids, he doesn't get to comment on whether or not my kid can swim. For the record, kid can't swim. I'm working on it. There is also international terrorism to work on. Fuck off.
See, I'm totally cranky.
Could be PMS or it could be that I'm over a bunch of lame shit and need a break. Including, but not limited to kids (mine and yours and theirs and those guys over there!), housework, laundry (which I don't even do and am annoyed I have to drop it off), grocery shopping, and mostly wine. I'm annoyed that I can't afford the wine I love, love, love to drink.
I'm a spoiled brat - fully admit it. Damn, it's good to be me. Adult tantrums included,
PS - Just for good measure, if you're stoned on 4:20 - you're a dork and should leave the city immediately to return to whatever bridge and tunnel craphole you came out of. Also - R is for reverse. Look at it as motherly advice