With the tights, the skirt, the tie and the braided pigtails – I became Wednesday Addams’ host and that bitch can party. My god, she wore me out. Friday night I went to bed at seven a.m. like a fuckin’ eighteen-year-old. I nursed a wicked hangover all day Saturday but experienced an energy rush that I killed with house cleaning before heading out into the night yet again, as Wednesday.
And yet again, that bitch almost killed me.
By Sunday night I was cranky, tired, sore and sniffling. Kiddo and I curled into fetal positions with fourteen ninety pillows between us and passed out a little after eight p.m., each coming down from our own highs.
I’m a second generation Halloween Reese’s stealer. I know I would honor my mom somehow.
I threatened to punch my friend in the cunt for being so photogenic and making everyone else look bad. She said, “It’s not that I’m photogenic. I’m just hot.” Which made me laugh more than the guy with the uncanny Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo costume.
This is gangsta Heidi, between some tits:
After more partying than even my lush ass can handle, I decided to take another extended break from drinking. Actually I decided last week that I’d curb the hooch on the first of November but cemented the idea when it took forty-eight hours to shake a monster headache. I’ve been challenged to sixty days. I’ll PWN sixty in it’s teeth.
I have a way with treadmills. They come to me. For free. I’m on my second one in the last few months since the other one went explodey on me one night. I’ve been recording my minutes in big green numbers on the calendar every day. This morning Kiddo climbed on top of the counter and popped dry cereal in her mouth watching me intently. Lucy stood too close for comfort and took the occassional heel to the chin, never learning her lesson. My house was filled with super loud ska at six a.m. and I still feel pretty damn energized.
-CJ
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