Like ants at a picnic...

Today's post is coming to you live from ma & pop's backyard.

Laying on a chair cushion on a towel on the grass. Under the stars. Flickering citronella candles surround me.

I'm listening to a lil this. And a little that.

Ants totally just broke up this picnic. Oh, and it was so delightful, jello shots, cookies, cupcake, watermelon, cantaloupe, honey dew melon, beer and yogurt drink.

Not gonna lie, I totally ate ant(s).

Internet is down at the apartment. I've been house sitting since Thursday.

The party was last night. Good times.

Posted the house rules, which began: Eat, drink and be merry, smoke, toke, throw-up, hook-up, freak-out, pass-out

And ironically (if using the Silver definition) that preeeetttty much sums up the night. And that's pretty much all I can say about the night. Went to bed early, slept late, didn't get much sleep ;) had an epic breakfast, and then back to my Susie-homemaker routine.

NewPlotPoint even made an unexpected appearance.

All this cooking for the party and Brother's lunch. and all this laundry from Brother's work clothes and ALL. THE. sheets and blankets and pillow cases. and all the cleaning and picking up garbage and hiding all traces of a party. (I would make an excellent murderer. Hiding a body should be easy after hiding an entire party.) and ALLL the bed making and sheet changing. Fuck.

Realised that NO. ONE. makes a bed like my Mummy. Which really hinders your efforts to disguise that there were shenanigans going on in my parent's bed and shenanigans going on in my childhood bedroom. Oh and Silver slept in Brother's room. Brother slept on the couch.

And even the finishing touches, like hand-curled ribbon, garnishes, cupcakes/jelloshot hybrids and ribbon around the toilet paper. But allll this Susie-homemaker stuff has got me thinking.

I like it.

I'm enjoying emptying the dishwasher, sweeping up and taking care of everyone. I'm not ready for it yet. But I look forward to it.

The cold lump within my torsal cavity.

OK, so I know I've been quiet. First, this... Ah, fuck already did that one. Awesome track, nevertheless. Kinda random, but... The boy hadn't called. Not that I was doing any of this. Or that. And certainly none of this But I also couldn't write. A little extreme. I was a lump of emotional hurtbag. In a completely unrelated matter, I have 20 cc's of norgestimate and ethinyl estradiol coursing through my veins. I'm back on the wagon. I'm getting it on the regular. The boy called. Last night. Late. Quite late. Even later then you're imagining. So I'm contemplating a 3am booty-call. What would Irish say? IRISH: Go for it, RonRon. ME: Don't call me RonRon! What would Jesus do? And of course, this is the image that immediately comes to mind. But then realise it's all a moot point, because I'm, saying YES!! to everything. Always nice to stamp the summer BINGO card. Let me play you out.

And downer-Veronica makes an appearance...

So... Things have been strange. Things are off. Like the universe is off kilter.
Maybe my luck is about to change.
Maybe putting my life into the hands of the universe is fool-hardy.
Maybe all this YES!! shit is just shit.

*Editor's note* Exactly what I was feeling and what I was scared of was exactly correct. Boys suck.

I wouldn't have to eat Kraft Dinner... who are we kidding, I can only afford the no-name stuff

So lately I've been playing LottoMax. You can't win if you don't play.
My ritual consists of carefully selecting my numbers, fantasizing about winning and the being cruelly disappointed, shattered back to reality when I don't.
What a waste of money.

But if you were ever wondering what I would do with $50 million big ones, I think you'll be disappointed.
Despite my diva/high-maintenance exterior, I really am a simple girl.

The first $10 mil would be untouchable. Put into low risk, medium interest bank account. Because there is the remote fear that I will Go Wild. May need money for rehab, or bailing myself out of jail.

The next $10 mil would be invested. Higher risk, higher return. I would invest in green initiatives and other hippy-dippy causes.

$10 mil for charitable causes. I would start my own scholarship. For people like ME... middle class,busting their balls for minimum wage. Give money to the ones I love, with the stipulation that they would have to give a tithing to a charity of their choosing.

$10 mil to spend and live off of.

And $10 mil to hide under my mattress.

How do I sleep at night? On a bed of money.