As Santorum called Obama a nigga, I can rest a little easier now. I don’t have to fear the tyranny he would rain down upon the citizens of this nation. GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY UTERUS YOU MOTHERFUCKER YOU.
Sorry, I’m getting the look. I’m not getting started.
I haven’t talked about work in awhile. So we hire this chic last week. Smart like you would not believe. Sometimes she opens her mouth and mine drops. And it’s freaky. Like, I don’t know, can’t put my finger on it, can’t give it a name. Just freaky.
I’m rambling. I’m distracted with a million tiny thoughts. If I try to decipher them all, I get anxious. Butterflies in my stomach anxious. There are too many things to do, too many things to consider, too many things. Just things. Lots and lots of things.
One thing is our cruise in June. What do I pack? What do I need? What should I avoid? What shore excursions should we join in? All this vacation business is supposed to be relaxing, not stressful.
But if there’s a way to make a situation stressful and full of anxiety, I’ll find it. It’s kinda what I do.












