Jesus Christ on a bike doing a one handed handstand while juggling a disco ball.
For the first time ever MOTY just called, out of the blue, to offer to look after Boo so MPS and I could go out for dinner for my birthday.
How wonderful you say.
And I would totally agree with you. HOW AWESOME! Thank you MOTY! That would be just wonderful!
Alas this fabulous offer just happens to coincide with this fucking HORRENDOUS tummy issue that I am experiencing at the moment (well since Christmas) and I am now down to only being able to eat white bread, potatoes, bananas, water and sometimes yogurt without doubling over in pain.
And I don’t get to see the tummy doc for another few weeks.
So, yeah… going out to dinner aint going to be so much fun.
So I had to say no thanks.
Cause who wants to go out to dinner when all they can eat is just the fucking bread basket?
I might have cried.
P.S. Did you notice the lack of coffee there? Yeah. DON’T FUCKING MENTION COFFEE ANYWHERE NEAR ME OK? OK.
P.P.S. And because of my now horrendous diet my nails are splitting a breaking and I have the skin of a teenager. All spotty and oily. FUN TIMES!
P.P.P.S You would think a fun little side effect would be I would be losing weight, right… heh. no. THE FUCK?!
P.P.P.P.S. You know how I was all in a lather about cleaning my house for my birthday? Check it HERE if you need refreshing… well whateverthefuckthisis, my money is on an ulcer, is kinda putting a fucking harsh on my buzz and the pain is stopping me from getting my clean on. OH THE WOE!!!!
Sing my feels, man. This shit better be healed by my fucking birthday. I get ONE DAY. I want to be able to eat EVERYTHING!