How 'bout a nice, cool glass of shut the hell up

"Ooh, let's go to that new store...you know the one that has all those neat things? Oh wait, but I want to go to the mall too. Have you seen that store with all the nifty little trinkets? Where do you want to eat. I heard that new place near downtown is cool. Should we eat first? Do you want to go see a movie? Would rather eat first or see the movie...or go to the mall? Or should we just skip the mall? Or maybe the movie? No, I want to see the movie...should we eat first though? If we eat first then we'll be too full for popcorn. But if we go to the movie first, we'll get full on popcorn and then won't want to eat...and I really want to go to that new restaurant."

OH. MY. DEAR. LORD.

Shut up, shut up, shut up! I don't care what we do as long as we find something to keep your mouth busy for a lengthy period of time!

It's not that this visitor isn't nice or whatever, but for the love of pete I just wanted her to shut up for 5 minutes. Not even a word in edgewise. I couldn't even answer her questions. When she finally stopped and I said nothing because I didn't know that it was my cue to speak she says "Well?" Uhhh...well what!? I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be giving an answer to anymore.

A fresh of breath air. No, that's not a typo...it's another chapter from the weekend that was the bane of my existence. Short Fat Matthew Lillard was all up in my bubble. Without permission, of course. And for the love of everything that is holy, he needed a tin of Altoids. A whole one. Smelled like he ate a can of dog farts. Note to you out there (and this is pretty much common knowledge)...if someone offers a breath mint, for god sakes TAKE IT! It's a hint, not a gesture of niceness. Short fat Matthew Lillard was not nearly as charming as I imagine The Real Matthew Lillard to be (even if he is a bit of a goof...he's a cute one). And all he could say was that he and I would be "BFF" and he just wanted to come over so he could "cuddle". I threw up in my mouth a little.

Sloppy and drunk go hand in hand...but when does it reach the "you should probably want to kill yourself now" stage? I'll tell you. When a lush "acquaintance" goes out Thursday night...doesn't sleep AT ALL...meets you for lunch wearing the same thing she wore the night before...first thing she orders is a vodka soda...proceeds to tell you and the entire table of 10 that she just had butt sex (still hasn't showered, brushed her hair or teeth)...proceeds to go to the bar with others (who have showered and slept and aren't hungover)...gets in a screaming match with a guy because he thinks she's trash (uhh...ya think?)...then invites herself over to my friends house to continue drinking (still unshowered...gag)...and keeps everyone up with her endless yapping and "I know everything about everything, let me tell you how to live your life" (yeah, i'll take your advice) until sunrise the next morning. So let's see, that's 48 hours without sleep, changing your underwear and clothes, without water touching your body, mouth, or anything else. You think it's time for a serious trip to AA? Intervention time.

On a final note...it's 95 degrees, humid, and our AC is out at work. I'm exhausted because I couldn't sleep last night. I'm going to Chicago tomorrow and have no suitcase and don't know what to take. And now ends the bitchfest:)!