Sometimes I am completely convinced I am part of some Truman Show set up.
Hidden cameras everywhere, you people watching my every damn move. Every surreptitious crotch scratch, nose pick, sneaky online purchase.
Shit happening to be blog fodder, or alternatively tempt me to the dark side of blogging the unbloggable for the google juice and head pats.
Or just random OMGness for the shits and giggles to see how I many swear words I can weave into that mind fuck and what shoes should be paired with that catastrophe.
I make great TV.
So in this weeks instalment of The Mind Fuckery Of Kelley, I was sitting on the couch or wandering around Kmart or SOMETHING, the setting is irrelevant but if important to you I am pretty sure you could purchase previous episodes on iTunes, and I actually said out loud ‘hmmmm, Boo hasn’t had one day off this year! That is amazing!’
And then I went on to talk about how it was IMPERATIVE that I got to work every single day this week, and then I ruminated about how I had no way of contacting Boo’s aide to let her know if he was away, and about how my Dad was going in for surgery this week (so that would mean that if someone was, say SICK OR SOMETHING he wouldn’t be available for babysitting) oh and isn’t it just fucking typical that I have been putting off my damn doctors appointments for six months and every time I make one I can’t get anyone to look after Boo? So he will have to come with us to see the specialist cause Dad will be in hospital.
After a while I forgot about such things because I had a super busy week ahead so that required much decision making in the footwear department being winter and all, (Monday was red high heeled boots, Tuesday was to die for floral Mary Jane heels, today will be Guess black flats) it seems the producers of the show were working double time to find some fuckery to fuck up my strategically planned week.
Like a Big Brother Challenge meets fucking Survivor up in here.
So OF COURSE, because I was depending on getting to work a little early on Monday morning Boo refused to get out of damn bed and we careened into the school carpark right on the bell, me fucking pissed to the max and him with a slightly snuffly nose.
But it was all good cause we had just bought a new dryer to iron the clothes (don’t judge, I am fucking brilliant) and MPS had moved out the broken one and kicked up some dust and Precious has a fucking DUST ALLERGY because OF FUCKING COURSE hello welcome to my life why can’t he be allergic to something easy like fucking kale or someshit and I figured he would be better at school with enough antihistamines to take down a small country while the dust settled down at home.
I was at my desk for a hot minute before my phone started blowing up.
They wanted me to pick him up. They weren’t buying my story. And yeah, the kid does scream when he sneezes and makes a helluva fucking noise.
He also tends to sneeze ON people. But he does say sorry, he isn’t a fucking animal or nothin.
But as I said before, this week is scheduled to the fucking MINUTE. Dad is going into surgery so can’t babysit obvs, I NEED to be at work this week and of all the fucking weeks in all the fucking year it had to happen NOW.
Because I said it.
I fucking mozzed it.
And the producers were all ‘oh yeah! What a great storyline! Get on that, think of the product placement and at least it will get the bitch out of the house’
Nice move fuckers. Smooth.
Does this shit ever happen to you?
Too scared to open your damn mouth, too?
P.S. MPS ended up staying home with Boo so I could go back to work, THANK FUCK.
P.P.S. In looking for a Truman Show image I discover that thinking that you are in some sort of Truman Show mind fuckery is a sort of mental illness. Fabulous.