Life’s been weird…
This has been the worst Zombie Apocalypse.
Ever…like EVER.
I know the entire world being infected by the Zombie Virus isn’t supposed to be a picnic but come on already. My friend’s husband hasn’t gotten out of his bathrobe since this whole thing started thanks to the #workfromhome movement which sends her into a psychotic frenzy on a daily basis, face masks have become a fashion accessory rendering my extensive Victoria’s Secret flavored lip gloss collection obsolete and I’m so busy doing nothing that my Christmas tree is still up and it’s almost February.
I am just starting to mourn the fact that this ‘social distancing’ stuff has quite possibly murdered my chances of ever getting laid again…the hinges on the cabinet in my dressing room that’s of full of the beautiful, silky, lacey lingerie I’ve so lovingly acquired- carefully organized by color, feel and occasion/type-of-date/hook-up are getting rusty. Let me tell you that any woman who smugly states ‘I wear lingerie for me’ is a pure bold-faced liar. Underwires suck, the thong is basically butt-floss and who likes flossing??
The same goes for perfume, moisturizing body glitter, make up, hair color, high heels, PVC boots and any other item of clothing made of pleather. I mean there may be the odd woman out there, a Rainbow Unicorn of sorts much like Sex in the City’s Carrie Bradshaw, who has nothing to do in the morning but spend 2+ hours on her preening ritual and then strut to the grocery store in her micro-mini and stilettos-efforts acknowledged by no one-and that’s ok by her.
Would you do all that for you? Let’s face it. I won’t. I’m lazy in the morning. I mean if I have a man I’m trying to impress/bed I’ll put in the effort plus some, trust me, but this lunatic ‘Mermaid Unicorn’ has lost at least two hours of her day that she’s never getting back. All these ‘feminine products’ for lack of a better phrase are expensive and if we’re gonna work it/work to pay for it…trust me…we’re gonna want someone to notice. And we want someone we want…to notice, not the pervy Gollum-like ‘Mutant Unicorn’ creeping on us in the alley.
I’m not kidding.
Anyway…I digress…as usual.
My daily routine these days consists of waking up, drinking coffee, giving the dog his Prozac, working out, walking above dog and then all of a sudden my day has somehow evaporated.
Next thing I know it’s cocktail time.
In other news, I discovered potato chips- something I used to avoid like the plague for obvious reasons- until my ‘Husband-Bathrobe Psychosis’ friend and I took a road trip (yes, it was mandatory travel, Zombies were everywhere- it was mad fun). She brought along a shocking number of tins of Pringles, something she explained as necessary road trip food in her family. Those salty little bad boys are pure evil and I suspect her main coping mechanism for the ‘Husband-Bathrobe Psychosis’.
I started two more junk/man drawers. For those of you who have not read my previous blogs no, a junk/man drawer isn’t a drawer full of men, although to be honest based on my most recent experiences with the ‘unfairer sex’ a junk drawer is right where they belong. For clarification on the term ‘man drawer’ Michael McIntyre describes it well.
My present ‘Man drawer’ is still evolving- more on that in my next post. The contents of past drawers are safe, locked/shackled in their own carefully labelled boxes in my new basement.
What else…right, I almost forgot. I had the s*it kicked out of me by my ex on Good Friday (#2020, #WTF, #quarantinelife). Still ‘unhappy’ that I left the relationship almost two years ago, he felt the need to express his discontent by ambushing me outside my home in a spectacle so dramatic it made the local paper. That in itself was a bit of life-changing fun and explains the rather large gap in my blog posts…in case you missed me. I was a bit busy hiding and running…all my Zombie Apocalypse training really did pay off.
I moved twice, shut down my business and said goodbye to most of my friends. The only consolation in the above scenario is that since we’ve all become such experts at communicating outside the ‘face-to-face’ because of the Zombie Virus, chatting with the friends I have left doesn’t look that different for now.
On the upside I broke up with Facebook, managed to stop drinking wine for breakfast (most days) and got myself a dog for protection. He’s the flirty, shoe-stealing blonde lunatic in the following tiktok video. He has so many issues he’s just my type.
Yes, I recently joined TikTok.
Sorry.
I joined because I was told that the animal and fireman videos were a draw and I love me a man in uniform.
Here’s one of my favorites, Maya sums up my overall opinion about the Zombie Apocalypse at the moment.
This brings me to the topic of this post.
As I’ve become painfully aware due to too much late night TikTok trolling, I’m supposed to have a ‘Gratitude Journal’.
I’m supposed to write in said journal every morning after springing out of bed at 6am, smearing an anti-aging kale mask on my face, making my bed, drinking lemon water, drinking kale, not drinking coffee, setting an intention for the day, exercising-apparently stumbling down the stairs to make coffee doesn’t count- and having a healthy breakfast prior to doing nothing all day.
I’m exhausted just looking at the above paragraph/run-on sentence.
This is MY morning routine
- Hit snooze at least 5 times, as I re-evaluate that final glass of wine the night before
- Let Sailor, my dog (yes… that’s his name and yes… I’m that lady at the dog park calling ‘Come here Sailor!’) guilt me into getting up to let him outside
- Sift through the clothes my bedroom floor to find the cleanest items to wear for the first half of my day
- Try not to fall down the stairs on the way to make coffee (mental note to put coffee maker on bedside table)
- Drink coffee
- Drink more coffee
- Walk dog
- Go for my run (can’t run with dog he’s reactive)
- Physical activity now complete I will now consider eating something.
My particular brand of intermittent fasting, the newest diet/health trend, is illustrated above: being so busy doing stuff in the morning that I forget to eat. I used to be a professional dancer. We invented intermittent fasting, although back in my day it was called ‘disordered eating’. Apparently people who avoid eating live longer. Good to know.
Everyone is talking about the ‘Quarantine-15’ or the ‘Covid-19″- the inevitable poundage gained by the #stayathome movement, the #daydrinking movement and the #chipsforbreakfast movement. I’m happy to report that while listening to friends bemoan the fact that their tights are too tight, I’ve experienced very little if any Zombie-Apocalypse Pandemic weight gain. I’ve been too busy running.
Literally running. For my life.
As previously mentioned, at the beginning of the Zombie Apocalypse pandemic I was viciously assaulted by my ex and left with nothing and nowhere to go. He beat me on the street, totalled my car and took off. Now I get to wait for the justice system that has slowed down to a ‘Zombie Crawl’ due to the pandemic to do its work and if I’m lucky I’ll possibly have five minutes of justice at some point in the far off future.
Because that story is a downer I will leave the gorey details for later in my side-blog, titled:
‘The-Too-Strange-to-be-True-But-it-IS…Soon-to-be-a-Netflix-Original-Film’:
“No Good Men“
Said film will star Anne Hathaway as myself-mostly because she shares my classic beauty and can be both dramatic and funny…(mental note to email Hollywood to see if she’s available)…
I digress…
Circle back to this gratitude shit. Wellness enthusiasts (of which I used to be one) spout the wisdom ‘Be grateful!’ They pose the question ‘What are you grateful for?’
They tell us to ‘express gratitude’ for Every. Fucking. Thing.
‘Gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder!’
‘Put what you desire on your dream board and it will manifest itself!’
‘YOU GOT THIS!!’
‘You and only YOU can change your life!’
Really? I can change my own life? Me and only me?
Awesome! I’ll give it a try…why not?
I grab a pen, go to my empty journal and write down what I want:
- I want my life back. Not my ‘new life’, my old life. I want my business back. My friends back. My town back. My beachside apartment back.
- I want to be able to go for a walk without looking over my shoulder
- I want justice
- I want to believe that there is a man out there for me who isn’t going to bleed me dry (literally and figuratively). One who isn’t an energy vampire, a narcissist, a fuckwit or megalomaniac… (I’m sounding like Bridget Jones all of a sudden)…
- I want my friends to stop telling me that yes that man is out there, but he may come in a package that is not immediately appealing to me because men ‘my age’ that look like ‘that’ have issues.
Well call me shallow…but I want the illustrious ‘Rainbow Unicorn’-male version. This non-existent individual is sweet-but-not-too-sweet, bad-but-not-too-bad, handsome and funny with nice shoulders, a six pack (half a six pack will do…ok a sixth…that’s my final offer, I’m thirsty), his own bank account, a job, a personality…
Hmmmm…
I’ll wait…and when I find him I’ll take that guy and pin him directly to my dream board with the whole box of push-pins so he can’t get away. Or if he’s really sweet I’ll give him his own corner in my basement and if he’s really bad I’ll shackle him there.
I get up and contemplate coffee or wine, after all it is after 12pm. I close my eyes, meditate on my intentions, grab the closest beverage and head back to my computer. This is the part of my post where I toy around with the idea of making this one of those ‘pick the fork in the road’ novels or whatever.
- ‘She grabs a coffee’-go to page 5 and continue reading
- ‘She grabs the mineral water’- go to page 47 and continue reading
- ‘She grabs the bottle of wine’-go to page 32 and continue reading
- ‘She grabs the kale smoothie’- go to someone else’s blog. That’s never happening in this one
I look at my list. I look around.
Old life- nope, I’m still here.
Fuckballs.
Nothing has changed.
So ‘putting it out there’ did not magically erase the events of the last year. My ex still snapped. The Zombie Apocalypse did not decide it’s more fun to be a blockbuster film than a reality tv show. I am not tucked into my beachside apartment writing cute musings about things my dog did today to make me smile, before taking him for a walk to chase seagulls, without a muzzle and 3 leashes…he’s a tad reactive, did I mention that?
I’m not looking out at the sunset and smiling, being actually grateful for an uneventful life.
Wait…
I guess that’s it…what I should have been grateful for…
An uneventful life.
I used to fear boredom, but now I would be indeed grateful for boredom. One of my good friends recently asked me ‘do you even know how to have a dull, boring day anymore?’
I haven’t had a dull boring day in years.
I guess I should be grateful to be alive. Things could have ended very differently for me had there not been people on the street who broke social distancing rules to save me from my ex.
But I’m not grateful. I’m pissed. I’m angry.
I’m Cranky AF! So I’m gonna write about it.
Welcome to the official ‘Cranky AF Journal’
Unless you’ve been living on a swank Mars colony for the last 300+ days or so, it’s been a real shit-ass year. Everyone was waiting with bated breath for 2020 to be over. I stayed up until midnight solely to make sure that little bitch left the building. When I woke up January 1, 2021 to find nothing had changed I shrugged, hit snooze and told the dog to learn how to use the toilet for something other than a designer water fountain.
It’s hard to feign gratitude when the world is going to Hell. At least if everyone else was doing ok I could live vicariously through others and fantasize about things getting better.
But hey, it’s a new year.
I’m 52.
We’re all suffering and I got shit to do.
I look at my to-do list:
- 2019 taxes (insert laughing emoji here)
- Fill out victim services forms (insert laughing/crying/swearing emojis here-not sure how it’s fair that being assaulted comes with homework)
- Make budget for 2021 (insert rolling on the floor laughing emoji here)
- Clean bathrooms
- Take down Christmas tree/decorations
- Clean kitchen, figure out what that smell is coming from the fridge…or is it the freezer…
- Inventory coffee supply and check with Fred (Frank’s evil twin) about his cereal supply/make shopping list
- Unpack (I moved 3 months ago…)
- Deal with garage (full of boxes and empty wine bottles…car is on the driveway)
- Bottles to depot
- Write
- Shovel dog shit out of backyard
I close my eyes and meditate one more time on my intentions. The list can wait for another day/blog post. I intended to start this blog again and look, here we are. I’m surviving despite the best efforts of others to batter me down and I fully intend to keep my sense of humor in a world which is becoming increasingly volatile. Always one to look at the upside of a bad situation, I have a closet full of lacey underthings and a drawer/basement full of Junk-Men who are waiting with bated breath for this Zombie Apocalypse to be over.
Let’s not hurry too much though…these are the Zombie Apocalypse diaries after all. If and when all this ends I’ll have to continue/start the Cranky AF Journal and at that point I may not be so cranky anymore…
My Happy Life 