I took my car in for it’s first oil change and tune up…I think? Anyways, when I handed over the key to the gentleman at the desk at the dealership, he asked what the KMs were on the car. Oh! I said. I have absolutely no idea. He looked at me with what could only be a stare that implied an eye roll. Ok, is there anything else we should now about the car? Yes there is. I told him that there is some stuff under the driver’s seat that seems loosey goosey. Like a bar thing and a box thing. When he looked at me I could feel the annoyance. He asked me to expand on those things. I tried to explain the different issues but for some reason I kept saying loosey goosey. Like it was the only way I could get my point across. We were both getting annoyed at my descriptions which sounded like they were coming from a kindergarten teacher explaining it to the students to understand. After some hand gestures and some shoulder shrugs on my part, he just said he got what he needed and they would fix it. My goal was then to delete loosey goosey from my vocab and never say it again. Especially in this dealership. I sensed instead of stamping my file with like a non-compliant, they stamped it with IDIOT.

I have found that during the times I am trying to make the least amount of noise because of a sleeping baby, I inevitably make the most. I was lying down next to the baby to get him to go to sleep and once this was achieved, there is this thing called a ninja roll that must be accomplished to leave the bed quickly and quietly without disturbing the baby. I readied myself for this special move and as I rolled swiftly and softly I saw my phone shoot across the room and hit my metal water bottle which fell over and started rolling on the wooden floor. It was like a bomb had gone off and the aggressive sounds wouldn’t stop. What in actual fuck, I said out loud, to add to the noise pollution. I quickly turned to see the baby had not woken up which was just shocking. But this happens often! I am like how can I exit quietly…how about I kick the door, slam it shut and then trip and fall. Argh! Also, Dads, when you think you are making no noise you are making the MOST noise. I once stomped over to my partner and asked if he had just been bowling down the stairs a few minutes ago and opening and shutting every cupboard as if they had started a fight with him. He looked confused but Jesus, it was like level 9 loud. 

I am trying to break free from my cult worm hole but it’s been difficult. The other night I was in bed, lying next to my baby, cuddling his little body, rubbing his back and watching a Scientology documentary on my phone. Ugh. The next day after deciding to take a Scientology break, I was looking for a podcast that would make my day better and I settled on one about Waco. Like wtf is wrong with me. It was also not the first pod about Waco I had listened to. I feel like I am training for that one time I happen to watch Jeopardy and there is a category on cults. And I will scream out every answer at the top of my lungs because that is how I play Jeopardy. My parents can attest that if I know the answer, I have no control over the volume of my voice and things get intense. After Waco was done I listened to the Spice Girls for the rest of the day as a cleanse. It’s called balance people. 

I gave the remote control to the babe yesterday to keep him occupied as I made a sandwich. I was just finished when I turned around and saw that the tv screen was asking if you would like to confirm your $9.99 Britbox subscription. Wtfffff. As I ran to grab the remote out of his hands he selected confirm. Omg wtf! Ok kid! I will watch some British tv but how the fuck did you purchase something from the tv in less than 2 minutes. Since this has happened he has also subscribed to PBS masterpiece classics…this channel was not watched during our stint with it.

I’ve been trying all kinds of healthy muffin recipes for baby to eat. I mean he’s 1.5 years old now, do I still call him a baby? Anyways, my last one had zero added sugar and was full of fruit and veg. And BOY did it taste like it. Even the bebe, who eats anything and everything pretended to put in his mouth and then shoved it down the side of his chair. It tasted like cardboard had sex with an apple. BORESVILLE. Regular muffins that Mom enjoys eating as well have returned. 

I cannot get over how messy mealtimes have become. The little one’s eating area needs to be cleaned constantly. Basically after every meal he needs to be changed. His high chair, after several scrubs, still looks like it came out of a dumpster. And if we pick him up after he has eaten, we are also often covered with food. One day after he had some toast with peanut butter, I carried him up the stairs for a change. When I got there, I had PB on my shirt, my arm and somehow dripping down both legs, how in the actual fuck is it dripping down my legs? Needless to say, we do a shit ton of laundry. 

I have started going to a new massage therapist based totally on the fact they are in my neighborhood. When I got there I was like, oh it’s in a basement…oh there are no windows…oh, I wonder of this is a rub and tug? Well we shall see, won’t we. The massage was good, didn’t feel super technical but she was strong. I waited to see if the end got weird, it didn’t and I said to myself, if there is one single man in the lobby waiting, I think it’s a rub and tug. When I got out to the reception area, there was one single man waiting. The last thing that confirmed this for me was the tip option. I have been going to massage therapists for a hundred years. I have a wonky spine. When I was getting an ergo assessment at work for a chair, my partner asked if Tim Burton could design my chair in his wonky, asymmetrical goth lord fashion to match my spine. My last 2 massage therapists have never asked for tips and also flat out refused them. So, when I read the tip option, it started at 15%, then had a 20% option and then a 25% option. For a massage that cost $105. I power panicked and hit 15% and walked away going what?? I barely get 70% coverage on this and that just came out of my pocket. Dang!! But like what other reason would someone give a 25% tip?! Maybe for the happiest of ending massages…Punchline is, I think I need to find a new massage therapist. 

I have always had the worst PMS in the world. For 5-7 days of every month, I hate everyone, I have no patience, I think the world is ending and I am unpleasant. (I am a catchhhhh). I have heard several people say that PMS if often just your hormones letting the truth come out and I refuse to accept this because then I am a seriously miserable biatch. Anyways, last week I called my partner crying to let him know that when he brought the recycling bin in he left a yogourt lid on the front lawn! A yogourt lid! On the front lawn! How fucking lazy! I want a divorce! Just kidding, we aren’t married. He was not sure how to handle this except to say he didn’t notice it. OF COURSE YOU DIDN’T and then I hung up. Anyhoo, an hour later I called to apologize about the yogourt lid-pocalypse and asked if there was a cave or luxurious hotel I could go hid in for the next week. 

My memory is so bad I never have ANY idea what I am watching on any of my streaming services until I open them up individually to see what they offer me to continue watching. Like I always know I have some Ru Paul on the go and if a show is amazing, like Beef, I will binge it as quickly as possible, but like most of the time I open up Apple and go, oh yes! That show! Completely forgot I watching that. Yay something to watch! It’s so stupid.