I am a genius.

Last night, I decided to paint my bedroom at 10pm. BUT. I had to leave the doors closed to keep the Banana from eating all the paint [paint is expensive!] and I forgot to crack windows. End Result: Stumbling through WalMart at 12:30 last night, tripping over every step, dizzy and knocking things off racks everywhere...on a desperate mission for drinking water [we've been out for two days. I am parched.], but instead winding up in front of the Nintendo DS games case. God knows how long I spent in front of that infernal display.

I woke up this morning with the inability to make a fist, a terrible, nauseating, splitting headache, and...surprisingly...no video games. Oh, and a bedroom which wound up looking like some sort of undersea cave, which is fucking. awesome.

I need to take some pictures of this shit.

Been a while...

We moved into our new house this week. Only took 18 hours of painting to cover up the Clubbed-Seal-Sickeningly-Violent-Red they'd painted the living room and the foyer. Also, even though all our friends stood us up and we had to move ALL BY OURSELVES [you guys are DOLLS, SERIOUSLY], it was supereasy.

Considering I threw all of our stuff away.

This makes for a wonderfully organized house, but there isn't really anywhere to sit.

The last two weeks of my life have been spent in a continuous Oh-My-God-I-Am-Now-Three-Trillion-Dollars-in-Debt-WE-BOUGHT-A-HOUSE-IN-FUCKING-INDIANA-WHAT-ARE-WE-THINKING state of total panic. So. Instead of writing, I've been very busy crying because I cut that skinny girl off in the mall parking lot and screaming at my mom on the phone because I can't find my goddamn cookie sheets. Coincidentally, things don't cook evenly on cardboard wrapped in aluminum foil.

So. I will take my medicine and write again.
Eventually. Soon as I find my fucking cookie sheets.