UPDATED!!! Tuesday, Bloody Tuesday

Here's the thing about yesterday? Yesterday was bitch. Yesterday was the kind of bitch that could make a girl face plant into a bag of mini candy bars and come up for air only to complain that there was not one single solitary drop of bacon grease to be found in that fucking bag.

Yesterday left me with two choices.

Get drunk
Eat a lot of shit.

This morning came really fucking early and found me feeling hollow - well except for the bacon covered peanut butter cup that I could be making up. But am I?

So this jerk face, ass wipe Tuesday also found me laying in bed, sobbing hysterically because I ended up watching one of those Dateline shows where they put actors in horrible situations and then watch mankind fail miserably at being anything close to human. And when they had the homeless actor, lay dead on the sidewalk and not one asshole stopped to help because he was homeless I decided I no longer wanted to be human.

The good thing that happened was when Sunday, Bloody Sunday came on the radio, for the first time in 3 years I smiled at the song. Mostly, because I had this entire Twittersation with someone that I'm just going to go ahead and put in the same category as knees that belong to bees, about how Bono is totally her imaginary husband and how Michael Hutchense makes your soul ache and bleed with his beauty. So when that song came on I smiled instead of feeling the pointy little bitch dagger that usually just turns itself inside my bruised and broken heart.

The thing about that song is that it's forever burned into my being and is simultaneously on my highlight and lowlight reels of life because when I hear it, when I feel it, all I can see is the night my husband swayed and danced with my now dead son around our tiny little living room while this video played behind him.

That's a total bite, isn't it? I know, fuck me and my sadness today. As a matter of fact?

Fuck you sadness.

But that wasn't about sadness right? It was about new found goodness.

Yesterday's big suck factor was mostly due to this really insanely stupid meeting we had with our financial planner that made me want to gouge out an eye, kick a shin and then just made me cry like a baby. And here's the thing about crying, I hate it and try to not do it.

This morning, I might have said something to Jason about how buying Depeche Mode tickets might not be our best plan of action and that left a big gaping hole in my belly. Then I stopped to get a Diet 7-up (which is my new crutch in life) and stood there, grinning like a jackass when the guy in front of me plopped to tall boys down on the counter and started to count his pennies to pay for them at 7:30 in the am.

Because hell? Life could be so much fucking worse, right? I waited patiently because no matter what, I wasn't doing that and I knew if I saw that guy laying on the sidewalk, with his can in hand, I wouldn't hesitate to call 911 and check his pulse. I'm a hella good person, I know it. And then? Then I reached in my pocket to pull out the dollar and some change I had to pay for my drink and all I pulled out in the first handful was a few pennies, a partial Kleenex and a mother fucking button.

I pulled out a button.

Like Charles Fucking Dickens was writing my bacon lacking life story.

Fuck you, little street urchin button!

I found my dollar and clutched the cold bottle as I walked into the cold air and got into my car. I looked at the car with the broken window next to me, smiled, again thinking, look, worse, right? Look at my pleasure over other's misfortune. Oh and maybe I should consider moving.

As I reversed my car, I turned up the volume and this is where I just wonder what the hell I've ever done because the haunting drum of Sunday, Bloody Sunday started tearing into my ear drums and I burst into tears.

So you know what? Fuck you, Wednesday. Fuck you hard.


Hold the Mah'fucking phone. My day just got better. I found THISSSSS!



Or even better? Huey Mah'fucking Lewis!



Thank you cracked.com