You guys, it’s Friday night and I’m sitting home thinking about all the Things I Need To Do tonight instead of getting up off mah ass and doing those things.
I don’t wanna do Things. I wanna sit here and type nonsense and tell you about my day and find the funny (or try to) and wonder why the hell my neck hurts on the left side for the past week or so, and also wonder out loud to you just why exactly my armpits have been on the BO-ie side this week.
Yeah, you read that correctly. My armpits have been shoo-wheee this week and I’ve had to shower both in the morning and before bed because who wants to lie around in their own smelly armpits? Well if you do, go right ahead,
very little no judging from this girl.
Let’s get one thing straight whilst we’re talking about the stench I’ve worked up in my armpits: It’s not from doing anything hard-labor-like, unless by “hard labor” we mean hard sleeping. Because in addition to my stinky armie pitties, I’ve been tared. That’s being so tired you can’t even say both syllables, you’re just tared. To the point of twelve hours of sleep feels like the right amount and anything less is just a nap.
My Mister speculated that perhaps my armpits stink because as of Monday I was put on a new super-duper doozy antibiotic for my motherfucking foot thing that won’t heal up because it apparently has some other infection now and I’m sick of pussyfooting around it by calling it gentle words, and it’s officially a motherfucking foot thing. Enough already. Heal. Heel. except it’s not on my heel, that would be too appropriate, but I’ve said it anyway so there.
His theory is that these super duper antibiotics are so strong they are pushing everything out of my body, including the stink from my armpits. Is that how antibiotics even work?? Can they push stink out??
I had no better explanation than that, so I said, “Sure, that might be it.”
This week I’ve mostly been coming home and putting on my jammies and then I’ll watch some tv in the living room so I don’t feel like a complete lazyass, but then move to the bedroom around 9 where I get to some serious resting.
That’s about how this evening has gone down so far.
I did get up because Food was needed, and so we ordered pizza because that is the perfect Friday-Night-I’m-Too-Tared-But-Hafta-Clean-Because-Company-Tomorrow-And-Also-My-Motherfucking-Foot-Hurts-Tonight-AND-I-Have-A-Little-Armpit-B.O.-AGAIN meal (Hey Pizza Hut, don’t try to steal this as your new slogan) and I strolled out of the bedroom in my leopard robe because you’d never know it’s August, there’s such a chill on the night air. I needed to robe up.
My Mister saw me
lumbering sauntering down the hall in this and asked who invited Hugh Hefner for dinner.
My smelly armpits invited him, that’s who.
So now you have yet another glimpse into the magic that goes on around here at Chez Bang Bang. It’s as if Taylor Swift and I are leading the exact same life.
Good Lawd, Reader – TWO SECONDS AGO Kitty Purry came and curled up against the crook of my arm like a furry dolly baby kitty, but then proceeded to almost throw up on me, but moved over in the nick of time to some mail that was on the table, which is also a medical bill I need to pay and should I now send in the check with the puked on statement?? I think yes. Because we keep it real around here. And just like T-Swift, I’ll be all “Look What You Made Me Do” as our newest release. On the paperwork.
Because that’s where that goes. Apparently.
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