Just When You Thought It Was Safe...

So, yeah. It's been like 70-odd days since I last posted anything. Except for pointing out that my life is pretty fucking uninteresting and admitting I'm a lazy slob, there isn't much I can do about that. I will take this opportunity to suggest that have found yourself sorely missing my participation in the blogosphere, then perhaps you should explore new avenues with your psychiatrist--what you have must not be working.

I guess there are a few things that have dragged me from the morass. Today, as I was sitting in a Corporate Happy Fun Meeting and contemplating burning myself with lit cigarettes, I came to the conclusion that yes, I do have a dead-end pink-collar wage slave job for which I'm grossly underpaid and hideously overworked, but that I might as well try to mine it for humor. Or an opportunity to judge others. Or both. Whatever.

As though the ongoing, slow motion car wreck that is my job isn't enough to make any sane person (which I'm not) batshit crazy (which I most assuredly am), I'm also planning a wedding.

Now, lest you get the wrong idea, I am pleased as punch about marrying The Boy. Further, since I know that many of the misanthropes who read this blog are also future guests, I want it to be clear that I'm happy to be celebrating our commitment through the public statement of our vows and the steady hemorrhaging of money.

All kidding aside...I am totally excited about this whole getting married thing, and I GLADLY declined the offer to elope. That said, planning a wedding has put me back into the mix with other people planning weddings, which means that I spend a decent amount of time surrounded by people who have completely surrendered the restraints of this Earth and are floating around in some sort of la la land covered in tulle and lacking Google. I want to share the stupid with you, my readers.

And, as though having a stupid job and a big fucking party to throw weren't enough, I'm about ready to embrace some home improvement projects. The roommate is moving out; The Boy is moving in; and the carpet needs to go see The Jesus. It would seem, I guess, that my brain is fucking melted--I KNOW nothing good can come of this.
But...I seem powerless to stop.

Of course, at least I'm not in their shoes.

Yeah. The next couple of months should be awesome, interspersed with the occasional hospitalization.