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Mayans, Bite Me.

20 Dec

toysDon’t laugh but I was seriously troubled today by the fact that it’s supposed to be the end of the world tomorrow, and it’s BD’s night with Baby. I mean, if all ends tomorrow morning, I’m not even going to be able to give my boy one last hug. And even though it’s a ridiculous thought, it made me sad. Have I mentioned that I’ve been hyper sensitive lately? So to forget about stuff, I walked to the mall with my friend B in the blithering cold, with a pineapple Breezer in my hand, to watch a dumb chick flick, not before downing two whiskey-diet cokes, and demolishing a hamburger with a ton of fries. At least there was a green salad on the side.

So… Bachelorette. One of those movies that really makes you think, right? Yes. It makes you think – good thing I’m drunk or this movie would seriously suck. Poor Britney Murphy, she had the role of Gena perfectly cut out for her, only she’s dead, so they had to make due with Lizzy Caplan, who was actually quite good, to be fair. B fell asleep about 20 minutes into the movie, and despite my nudging and kicking remained asleep until the last 10 minutes of the movie, when she opened her eyes and mumbled sleepily: Too bad I fell asleep, looks like it was a good one. The main theme of this movie is that women hate themselves and sabotage their lives, despite being drop dead gorgeous, smart, and helping kids with cancer. But the fat girl whose only real characteristic trait in the movie is that she likes to eat, has it right, because she’s not bulimic or high on coke, she just accepts who she is and finds the perfect guy who wants to marry her, even in a torn stained wedding dress.

Alright, movie over, candy eaten (there just were not enough calories in that burger, sorry) and we head out of the theater. It’s midnight, oooooh, the end of the world is coming. All at once it starts to poor, I’m talking cats and dogs, and none of the traffic lights are working, that’s creepy, and tipsy B and I have stupidly decided to walk back home.

When I finally make it home I rush to turn on the heat, strip of my wet sticky jeans and crawl into my pajamas, and then cannot help myself and text BD to see if Baby’s doing alright, which he is. I’m head over heels over this little guy, I have to tell you. He can keep me up all he wants, I’d take any night staying up shush-patting him over being apart. Well, maybe one night a week to catch up on my sleep is not a terrible idea.

Tomorrow is a new day, isn’t it? And it most definitely will not be the end of the world. Let me tell you why: This story, my story, is just not over yet. The heroine has only just begun her development. The plot has only just started to thicken. And what kind of a crappy novel would it be if somewhere around chapter 3, everyone in the story died and that was the end? Well, it wouldn’t be a novel at all, it would be a very poorly written short story.

So Mayans, bite me.

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