I knew I should have wrote this this morning but I didn’t have the drive.  What happened to me the other day was so good I didn’t even Facebook it.  This is how it went down -

I was in my bathroom singing my songs all in my nakedness with just a towel in my hair when I decide I want a snack so I figured I’d go downstairs and have a Slim Fast drink.  I saunter down to the kitchen (I saunter everywhere I go unless I’m bouncing like a cheerleader), get my drink and turn and open the pantry door.

Now I decide I’m going to just drink the whole thing right there because I didn’t see the point in walking upstairs for a few sips I’d just have to throw away so I started rearranging some things in the pantry because the last time I got drunk I ate my roommates popcorn and when I replaced it he tried to give it back to me.  Just as I moved the box back over to his side I happen to look over to the right and what do I see? My roommate with a giant shit eating grin on his face!

He said he heard me singing so he knew I was home but he couldn’t see all of me until I came down to the actual fridge because of the vantage point he was at and he was just sitting there eating Bojangles chicken and he nearly choked on it when he saw me walk up.  Thinking it hilarious and pretty awesome because I’m hot, he decided to wait to see how long until I’d notice.

Once I did take notice I figured I had three options.  I could pull the towel down off my head and cover myself, run or just hang out and I figured it’d already been a solid two or three minutes so I just decided to hang out.  I leaned up against the door and had a conversation about popcorn as I finished up my drink.

Here’s where it gets better -

I was finishing up my hair (still naked) and I decided to yell down to Spence that this is too funny to not share with anyone and I bounded out of my bathroom expecting to yell down the stairs. Did that happen?  NO. Spence was at the top of the stairs with a look of shock on his face as he was buttoning up his shirt and he immediately held his arm out and said “I’ll be right down, mom!” to which I burst into laughter, took a peek over the railing and saw his mother standing down there.  Had it been just ten minutes later I would have gone for my slim fast while they were both downstairs and my music was so loud I wouldn’t have even known it.

I thought the story ended great with just that finale but fate decided to put some frosting on the cake (given this story, that sounds perverted).  I was walking in yesterday and was about three steps up from the top when m roommate came walking out holding clothes he was planning on putting in the laundry bare ass nekkid.  Holy hell I’ve never seen anybody turn and run so fast as he screamed “OH SHIT!” I guess he didn’t decide on option three like I did.

I literally fell to the floor.  We both were laughing hysterically with him on the other side of his bedroom door as I proclaimed our home an official nudist colony and said now that all that is out of the way we should just feel free to free-ball all we’d like.  After we were hanging outside talking to people the entire event was summed up in one sentence, “I choked on my chicken and then I choked my chicken!”

Only in my world people, only in my world.

Everything I do is based off of love.  From the second I wake up until I drug myself to sleep at night all I think about is love.  How much love I have to give and how much I desperately want to be loved in return.

I took a solid look at myself after having a fantabulous conversation with one of my bestests last night and I realized that I’m wicked loved.  Don’t go getting all jumpy, I know you guys love me.  There’s a difference between knowing you’re loved and feeling you’re loved.  I have some ruthless people in my life who “have to” love me out of obligation and I was burned really bad by a few people who just “couldn’t” love me the way I wanted them to so you know what I’ve decided to do?

Have lots and lots of sex with myself with romantic music playing as I gently murmur romantic things to me over the soft sound of my gigantic vibrator.

I’m going to love me as much as I possibly can.

I am no longer on a man-hunt.  I am SO under qualified to be a girlfriend anyway.  34, can’t divorce because we need me on the health insurance, fantastic mother of two who takes every free second during the day to be with those little monsters who has this job and another one at a restaurant.

Oh shit, Dylan.  I’m supposed to make one of our hosts famous.  He’s the funniest stoner I’ve ever met, he always buses tables and he’s damn good at his job.  More on him Tuesday maybe.  I’ll have to get a picture off Facebook and put it up.  He loves me.

I’m also sick.  Wah.  Poor fucking me.  I don’t care about that it’s just annoying.  I also can’t drink, smoke, do drugs or have legit coffee anymore.  I’m going to Dunkin Donuts today to see if I can get my latte with decaf.  I know decaf still has caffeine in it but it’s nothing compared to what I used to drink so I’m weaning myself off the good stuff that way.

So love.  Love, love, love.  All you need is love.  Look around.  I bet you’re surrounded by it and you don’t even know it.  Check your Facebook wall to see how many people say hello or check to see if you have a bunch of texts to reply to.  Check to see if you have Courtney (you don’t, she’s mine) and be so grateful to have a love in a friendship so deep the atom bomb couldn’t break us up.  WE WILL DESTROY YOU.

I have all my karaoke friends, bar friends, work friends, AA friends. neighbors, family (that doesn’t count the evil ones they’re the meanest people I’ve ever met) and I have me.  I hope you have all of those things.  Unless you’re a total dick you have me too.  I love you very much for reading me.  I love you for thinking about me.  I love you for letting me think about me, because when it comes right down to it that’s pretty much what I do.  Who I can love and how I can love them.

From now on it’s me.  I’m focusing on loving me to the best of my abilities.

I want black socks, earrings and C batteries for Christmas please.

Okay, now my computer will feel the wrath of my fury.  I was HALF WAY through what I’m officially going to say is the greatest piece of work I’ve ever written when my computer crashed and I lost every word so now you’ll never be able to dispute that theory.

Couldn’t have happened on a worse day.

I’ve been forced to give up caffeine.

I want to murder an insignificant planet.

I’ve been getting these damn tremors I told you about last week.  I’ve been getting them for a long time but for the past two weeks (maybe more) they’ve been getting stronger (like in my jaw) and twice now I’ve been told it’s happened while I sleep (One night, two times during the night thank you Courtney I love you).  Last week when it happened I was completely paralyzed for like five minutes and now I have to get an MRI done this week.  BULLSHIT-SKI’S (that’s how Polish people call ‘Bullshit’).

So to rule out all possible suspects, Julie officially has to give up the good stuff.  I haven’t had a drink in 95 days, I don’t smoke at all and now caffeine.  No more lattes, no cappuccinos.  I don’t care about soda but there’s a wild rumor I have to bail on chocolate and if that’s the case my doctor better be glad she doesn’t have a dick because I would kick her right in it.  That’s right.  Square in the dick.

How much is in chocolate anyway?  I mean, I drank A LOT of coffee so I’m going to assume that’s it right there.  The timing of these tremors doesn’t make sense but if it’s at all caused by the liver the only thing left that could do damage is coffee.

FUCK MY LIFE I AM SO BORING.

Thank God I’m awesome.

Ugh.  Seriously awesome.

You should have seen this drunk chick at the bar last night.  She was rubbing up on guys and I’m fairly sure everyone caught herpes just by being in her general area.  Someone fell dancing, I can’t say who but from what I got cleaning up the bar after everyone left it was a woman because I found two rings and a Chuck-E-Cheese token so this must have been one crazy mama needing a night out on the town.

I hate word counts.  It looms at the bottom of my screen and I feel way too much pressure to talk to you a substantial amount lest you be disappointed with the words flowing from my fingers to this page.

So yeah. I am planning on being a raging bitch for the next week or two while I detox.  I’ve never had to detox from anything before.  I didn’t even start drinking coffee til I quit drinking and I never drank enough to have anything to detox off of.  Thank God for Xanax.  Shit.

I actually threw a fit the other day.  I was with Court at a dance club and I was so annoyed by the lack of attention I thought I deserved that I started jumping around and stomped my feet and basically said “Argh” like I pirate because I like to talk like a pirate at least once a day (I think I’d pick pirate over ninja but we can talk about that another day.  Ninja’s are too quiet for my taste).

I told her I’m sick of dudes in general because I don’t really get what I want from anyone anywhere ever because I have SUPER high standards and I’m WICKED high maintenance what with the me almost dying all the time.  I said I’m going to give up and invest in some nine volt batteries or something.

Okay, I’m useless.  Fucking useless.  You laughed at some of this, yes?  Of course you did.  You don’t need all these WORDS to make your day.  You just need a dash of me.  I’m going to keep saying that to myself as I hit publish and go take a nap before work.

I LOVE YOU!!!

Or at least I act like one.

Except I don’t drink, smoke or do drugs.

Or have sex with random people.

Actually it looks like I don’t act like one after all.

I just look like one.

That’ll do.

(It gets better. Click to continue reading…)

Wow.  I am one lucky lady.  Lucky, lucky, lucky.

I have so much to be thankful for.  I suppose it’s the best time of the year for that.

Every relationship in my life has been tested and proven in the past month.   When someone goes through a major trauma people either shy away or step up.  That’s it.  There really is no middle ground.

I was raped.  Plain and simple.  It was not on a damn boat you psycho and all the proper measures were put in place and action was taken so stay the fuck out of my life (you know who you are), it was a month ago and the details are horrid and painful and nobody’s business but my therapists. I’ve come to terms with that.  I’m not angry, I’m not scared (although I do want to list my phobias for you tomorrow.  Turns out there are quite a few and I’m “quirky” but they have nothing to do with this) and I do NOT feel sorry for myself.

What happened was I went through PTSD.  Lucky for me I’m brilliant.  I did everything right.  I Googled trauma and PTSD and saw that every emotion I had was natural.  It sucked and I hated every second of it but it was natural.  Sure I wanted to kill myself but you know what I did?  What I really did?  I went to a hospital.

(It gets better. Click to continue reading…)