I've got a case of the blahs on top of the blahs and so on to infinity. I know it sounds very pretty pretty princess, but having the house be so torn up for renovations and then not having the cash to move things along makes me mighty low. I'm not good when the house is chaotic. A clean counter means I must be sane. Right? RIGHT? Answer me damnit! So piles and piles of crap is making me feel nuts. More nuts than usual. Which brings me over that fine line from charmingly touched to f'king crackers.
Just the other night the whole damn family was in the minivan and stopped at red light. A red light that had a big "No Turn On Red" sign next to it. When a young whippersnapper starts cussing us out, actually leaning outside her window to yell obscenities at us for not turning right. I'm like, really? You're taking down a family in a minivan? Then she got out of her car and started to walk towards our car. I jumped out of the van and walked over to the "No Turn On Red" sign and began a very sarcastic, interpretive Vanna White impersonation. See, see the big red sign. The light turned and we both got back in our cars. Husband and children just looked at me with stunned expressions. Normally, I would have just laughed at her. But I'm not in my right mind.
And yesterday I found out I got a spot volunteering at BlogHer. Which was great news for about 5 minutes. Then I began to obsess about how I had nothing to wear, people would be viewing my large caboose LIVE and remembering that I have huge social anxiety. I'm not shy, as the teenager in the car can tell you, but I get really freaked out in a crowd. Especially a crowd of cute, articulate and well dressed women. As I imagine BlogHer to be.
I did manage to smuggle a pair of Spanx Higher Power Panties into the house under cover of an Aldi shopping bag. There was no way I could rationalize to husband why I needed a $34 pair of underpants for BlogHer, especially ones that look like porno scuba gear. If you've worn the high waisted Spanx you know what I'm talking about. They have an opening in the crotch so you can pull it apart to tinkle without wrestling out of them. Well I don't know about you, but my thighs NEED those Spanx. So that little folded over hole is pulled wide open all the time, creating a pair of crotchless underwear. 'Cept it's not really underwear since it goes up under your bra line and down to your knees. So you look more like you've cut a vagina hole in your wetsuit. But I'm too afraid of my frontass not to wear them.
I could take a Xanax before attending BlogHer but while they relax me they also make me very very sleepy. Combine a drugged, sleepy mother of two with a PowerPoint presentation and I'll be drooling and exposing my crotchless Spanx wearing self 10 minutes into the conference. But I'll be there. Handing you your registration packet and blurting out an apology for not being witty or pretty enough in person. Bah!