Last week was a rough week. If you've ever had a panic attack, you know how it feels when you can feel one coming on. You talk yourself out of it, telling yourself that nothing is bigger than yourself, nothing is too big to handle, nothing is too difficult to withstand. What's frustrating is when you realize that maybe you are your own problem.
I am not sure that being a full-time stay-at-home mom is the right choice for our family. A stay-at-home mom doesn't necessarily ensure a happy mom. When 5 pm rolls around and Clayton looks at me the wrong way and I fly off the handle, it might be time to reconsider this situation.
Okay so you know when you get acrylic or gel nails? I am NOT an acrylic nails type of girl, but I decided to try a Shellac french manicure like 2 weeks ago, and it looks really pretty. But now it's super annoying because now they have grown out to the point that it is hard to type, and it make an obnoxious clicking noise when I type, which is soooo acrylic-y. The lady said I had to come back in like 3 weeks to have them soaked off. I was like, "OMG you sound just like my daughter!" She asked how old my daughter is, and I pretended I didn't hear her/couldn't understand her, because I didn't want to be rude. So I just ignored her.
So last week some little punk bitch stole my Halloween headstones from my yard. WTF! Who does that? Not only did they really make the display cohesive, but they would kind of sway in the wind. When I took Carlisle/Carlos/Napoleon out, the swaying would scare the shit out of him.
I mean literally scare the shit out of him. The only way to get him to do his business in a timely manner is to scare him or get him really excited. If he sees a squirrel, or a stranger, or another dog he goes ballistic and promptly dumps. Otherwise, he will take you for laps around the house, unable to decide whether he is prairie doggin it or just has to fart. One time I took him out for like 15 minutes, begging and pleading him to just dump already so we could go back inside.
So this perpetrator not only totally effed up my Halloween display, which now looks piss-poor and pathetic, he or she has also constipated my dog. All I can say is that karma is a bitch - a bitch who probably has loose bowels.
*Disclaimer: I just reread this entire paragraph below - and it's pretty dark - you might not want to read it. I'd delete it, but I sacrificed like 5 minutes of RHONJ reunion, which is not recording, and if I delete this paragraph, I will have nothing to show for it, damnit! Damn, Tree is one crazy bitch, am I right? Can I get a hell yeah?
Sad story about that Indy 500 racer, Dan Wheldon. These cars are going about 200 mph. I understand adrenaline and that kind of thing, but can I just say one thing? There is a good chance in any race that there will be Miller High Life tallboys, mullets, crop tops, cutoff jorts, and fiery deadly crashes. I don't want to encounter ANY of those horrific scenes. Now, a few weeks ago when that air show crash took place in Nevada, I got curious about where the body of the pilot was. That is to say, what happens to a body when you get in a high-speed crash? I asked Clayton, and he said something like, "I know...but it's disturbing and as much as you think you want to know, you don't truly want to know." Well yes I did. Just like I wanted to know what was wrong with my foot, and lo and behold, according to WebMD I have terminal advanced joint cancer.
Well Clayton couldn't stop me and neither could Google. Now I have a breadth of information that will forever haunt my dreams.
Basically, most of your body's organs virtually liquify. This driver's body was still travelling 200+ mph when it crashed. His organs might not have been going fast enough to have liquified, but most plane crash victims' bodies do. Innnnnnnnnnnn fact, usually what is left of people's bodies is severed by their seatbelts. And apparently a long time ago (I don't know if this is still the case, my info is only as legit as wikipedia) instead of taking Air Force members' fingerprints, they would take footprints, because in the event of a crash, the only identifiable body part would likely be the foot, which would still be found in the boot.
Okay so let's all regret reading/writing that, and let's also regret Googling that. Clayton warned me. I should have listened. *bawling and rocking in the fetal position in the corner* why didn't I listeeeeeeen?
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