Blue Friday

If this isn't PMS week, I don't know what is. My face is broken-out, I've been snapping at everyone.. I CAN'T STOP CRYING. You gotta know that I'm not a cryer. Emotional? Oh, heck yes. But I just don't cry that often.

I'm sitting here reading magazines, crying about everything. All of these layouts in these magazines -- people's parents, children, careers, vacations -- they're just making me cry. I'm not really even sad. I guess melancholy is a good word for how I'm feeling.

On the plus side, I get to do my first challenege in my art journal today. The topic for this week from Lisa is "Today." I'm thinking it's time to dig out some blue, purple and green paper and do a melancholy entry.

However, since Officer Dufus is here, I can't get started on it until midnight, so I guess I'll just sit here and sketch.

My Life

In case anyone's wondering, this is a perfect depiction of my life over the past 2 years, with a slight role-reversal.

Whimsical Explorations

It was a bad day. I was mad at Mike. And when I say mad at Mike, I mean, I don't know that I've been this mad at him since the day he "accidentally" read my journal. That was 4 years ago.

We don't fight very often. As different as we are, we tend to stay on the same page most of the time. As I learned today, we stay on the same page because I tend to cater to his every need. So, last week was a busy scrapbooking week. I was gone 4 days. I spent quite a bit of time on the computer when I was home. This week, I went out to lunch with a friend one day and didn't get the house clean.

I played. I worked on some hobbies, did some shopping, went out with some friends.. and that miserable butthead made me feel guilty about it. For real. Anyone who knows anything about Catholics knows that we live for guilt. If there's any possible way for us to feel guilty, we're just gonna feel guilty. Oh? The Prime Minister of Great Britain has a headache? I shouldn't have eaten that cake yesterday. It's ridiculous the way we feel guilt.

So there I was, feeling guilty, and this would have been just fine, and he and I would have both gotten over it, but the *(@$@#$^#$^ went and complained to my sister. So my sister called me today and "hinted" that I wasn't doing enough to keep my husband happy.

The only thing that trumps my Catholicism is the fact that I'm a redhead. Have you ever seen a redhead get righteously angry? Well, he accomplished his goal. I cleaned the entire house. My back hurts so bad I can't even sit in this chair. So how long do you think it's gonna be before I let him touch me again after *this* performance? Don't keep my husband satisfied, huh?

Satisfy this.

If Wishes Were Fishes...

Then everyone would be as lucky as me. It's bedtime. My husband's home, my cutie-pie son is sleeping soundly. Tomorrow I'm going shopping (for scrapbooking stuff, of course), and my husband is going to be off work, so we can spend some post-shopping QT together.

I have some wonderful new friends that I have a lot in common with (well, except for Kristin).. hehe. I'm a very lucky person, and I just wanted to share that before I went to bed tonight.

The Notebook

Alright. Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I *hate* mushy, gooey, romance-infested chick movies. I'm just not a fan. I'm not a mushy romantic person.

So here it is, almost 5am, on my day off. I should be sleeping peacefully next to my husband (who, by the way, is doing a fantastic impression of a chainsaw right now), but what am I doing? Crying my freaking eyes out. And it's stupid, cause I watched that movie once before and said I'd never do it again. I cried my eyes out that time, too. Is there something wrong with me? Is my chemistry changing as I get older?

For those of you who wanted to know, the movie in question is Nicholas Sparks' "The Notebook." Oh yeah, if you've seen it, you know exactly what the hell I'm talking about. WORST MOVIE EVER. And you know, the only thing worse than that movie is "Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas." By the same author in case you're wondering. And if you haven't read it, I'm gonna go ahead and spoil it for you. Right now. Don't read any further if you don't want to be warned.

EVERYBODY DIES.

The end. Someone needs to tell Nicholas Sparks to take a flying leap.

So here I am at 5am. Can't sleep cause my eyes are so puffy. I even took a sleeping pill, and I still can't sleep. So I'm sitting at my computer, naked, hoping there's no one anywhere near my back yard, cause hey -- poor them and their eyeful right now. Stupid dumb chick movies.

I'm going to watch the Smurfs.

Kindred Spirits