Awesome Alibi Two: I didn’t kill her, I was on the roof killing those nuns

Alibi number two is a line taken from an episode of Rizzolli and Isles. I liked it. I remembered it for two days. It’s a keeper.

The last couple of days have sucked, mainly because I have been Crampus, not to be confused with Krampus. This month the oompa loompas have treated me to two days of sheer hell and pain, which is extreme even for my normal extreme. Then Thursday night my kid woke me up SEVEN times so yesterday after dropping her off…Rather than shower and go do R’s bidding…I fell asleep. Then had to rush in to the shop, feeling shitty for falling asleep but also in so much pain I wanted everything to shrivel up and die.

I gotta stop being such a ray of freaking sunshine or people will be blinded.

In spite of my depressive and crampus intertia, we went to hang out with Mrs R last night and Spook got to play with L and J when the elitist parents stopped by. In what can only be described as “classy as fuck” style…Mrs R was giving L her birthday gift and Spook asked why she wasn’t invited, so Ursula saved face by saying, “Oh, you can guys are invited, I just sent the invitations on Facebook and you don’t use it…”

Niiiiice. Because I saw the printed invitation on the fridge in the kitchen. My kid hasn’t been invited to L’s party in four years cos last time she went she had a screaming mimi that none of the gifts were hers and R’s stepfather PAID me two dollars (go buy her a toy) to take her disruptive butt away. FFS, she was THREE.

Whatever. The invitations that don’t exist said no gifts, donate to a homeless charity in town. That seems so humanitarian doesn’t it? It also reminds me of Mommy Dearest where Joan Crawford made her kids pick one gift and give the rest to charity. Ya know, in between the wire hanger beatings. (Maybe my mom shouldn’t have let me watch that movie when I was 7, I still can’t look at wire hangers without a little cringe of memory.) Spook doesn’t understand this charity thing (and while it looks good on the surface for the elitists are such giving kind human beings who want you to give money to the homeless yet make fun of “low class” people, like me, for living in a trailer park.) Grrr. I said I’d take Spook. I like L and J. I always prefer the kids. Not in a pervy way, but in a way where I’d much rather eat plastic food and read pop up books than discuss Say Yes To The Dress or talk about those sleazy people who buy second hand clothing…

I am not looking forward to this shindig. But hey, I’ll finally get to lay eyes on my chariot, Jezebel, as she is parked in Ursula’s yard. (R wants to work on it there cos his son in law has more tools or some shit, IDK, they’re both tools if you ask me.) Spook and I went to Dollar Tree and I tried to explain the charity thing but…She’s six and gives zero fucks. So I let her get L a sparkly card with animals on it and some Frozen stickers. Fuck the elitists. Because if you don’t donate/gift, you’re cheap, but if you do and it doesn’t cost a lot, you’re cheap. Fuck a bag, can’t win with people.

I guess after serving an hour at the party, I am gonna drop Spook off for a sleepover at my mom’s then Mrs R is taking me out for Mexican and Margaritas, her treat. Her normal friend she goes with has plans so I am the fill in. Yay. Again…Not looking forward to it, but I figure if I hang out with R (because ya know, he can’t be alone and slums it when everyone else is busy) but not her, she will think it’s hinky. There’s no wonkiness but my own brain but fuck it…Free meal and she’s driving and stuff. Whatever. Least coming off the Cymbalta I am less strung out and able to laugh a little and not be so…well, fucked up.

Proof being, Spook won a free pizza for the school book-it thing and I had a small balance left on a gift card so we actually went to Pizza Hut for lunch today. I made sure it was like two minutes after the door opened cos I don’t do crowds and all…Spook wasn’t awful. It was okay.

Awful is, the docs preach “Don’t go off your meds, don’t miss doses, blah blah blah blergety blarg.”  Pharmacy called to let me know they can’t have my lithium in until Monday. Oh, and they can’t fill the others cos the dr office hasn’t gotten back to them about the refills even though I made the request yesterday morning. Niiiice, doctor’s office. I have to be compliant but you all get to be fucktards and it’s okay to fuck with my meds. I do it, and I just don’t want to be better.

Fuck a bag.

And if you are wondering where this “fuck a bag” thing stems from…Check out “Precious Plum” on youtube. It’s a Honey Boo Boo parody and OMG, I watched the entire playlist twice it was just that damned funny. I even have my kid quoting the opening credits cos well, I’m probably not gonna win any mom awards but damn, it is good to laugh again….

I am also painfully aware that this sudden burst in humor and willingness to deal with the dish is a result of my meds being wonky. I haven’t had  a full lithium dose in six days. I’m weaning off cymblotto. I have the horrormones going on. This could be a hypo jolt and I may spend the next week curled up in the bathtub in the dark sobbing into a blankie…(Yes, it’s happened many times.) I am starving for pure vegetation, no dish or dwellers but my mind is feeling up to those challenges and I am going with the flow for now. Let the crash come when it does. It always does with bipolar, no matter what the sunshine spewers say. It’s the price of functionality, especially over functionality. I am writing checks my ass can’t cash here but we’ll see if overdraft protection kicks in.

Other than the internet being all wonky due to the start of the month “upgrades”…I guess I have nothing else to rant about. For now.

I have a feeling more time in the dish will change that.

On a final note…For all my readers (all six of you) who use your little smart phones and its auto correct that is hysterical if not scary…Go to youtube and check out “Auto Correct Love Song”. I thought of every typo and auto correction ever made on your behalf, Sass and Diane.

Fuck a fancy bag.

 

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2 Responses to “Awesome Alibi Two: I didn’t kill her, I was on the roof killing those nuns”

  1. It sucks to walk around knowing that the crash is coming. I just don’t understand why the doctors take so long to deal with the refills. My pdoc requires 72 hours to call in refills or deal with insurance issues and she’s only there monday thru thursday so I really have to have my shit together. The pharmacy wants to put them on auto-refill but since pdoc changes the dose EVERY SINGLE TIME I would constantly be calling to cancel refills. grrrr.

    Maybe you will have a nice time with Mrs R. At least there will be alcohol. 🙂 And I’m definitely going to check out those videos. I could use the laughs

  2. God Doctors with their prescriptions… I just got my meds upped on Thursday (long overdue, obviously) after waiting 3 weeks for an appointment and he said to me “do you want me to refer you to the psychiatrist? Cos there’s a 5 month waiting list if you’re not suicidal.” So I said I’d wait until I tried to kill myself again (because I’m all over the place at the moment). Apparently this was acceptable to him. I’m convinced that I’m actually rapid cycling but getting that on a diagnosis would require actually getting to see a psychiatrist again and I don’t have the money for one and I’m not suicidal enough to see the free one (and is it me or do the free ones always seem less competent and in less of a hurry to actually do anything??) Now I have a prescription (I convinced him to give me 2 months worth on 1 prescription so I can maybe try working again soon), but I have to wait until I can afford to get the prescription before I can get my meds. But I can’t get a job if I’m not on my meds… it’s impossible.

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