It's Saturday night and I'm bored. But that's better than puking at midnight from too much tequila, as was the case last night. I am too old for that much alcohol. I told a friend the other day that I knew my "sweet spot" for imbibing just enough alcohol to enjoy myself (and letting others enjoy me if that happens to be the scenario) but to avoid a morning hangover. This is true for beer and wine but is apparently NOT true for tequila. What.The.Hell.
I hope the Sean and his Psycho Wife drama is over. And I cross my fingers as I type that. There was some very mature (sarcasm) Facebook passive aggressiveness that went down which solidified my final decision to 1. block her and 2. tell Sean I want nothing to do with her. Additionally, the chick was/is hounding Sean to ask me and Mr. Man to dinner so we can "chat" (read, MURDER the ex-girlfriend over pot roast). This is after slamming me verbally and not allowing Sean to see or speak to me because she is afraid I am going to "steal him away", among other things too ridiculous to mention here. Trust me, there is some wicked back story that I can't even write about due to the risk of my eyeballs bursting in rage. My answer to that invitation was a big hella no, I want nothing to do with your two-bit whore skank wife. Ok, so I didn't use those EXACT words but I did not spare the "fuck her"s and "grow a pair"s. What? I can be as classy or as white trash as the situation warrants. Its a shame, but really? I'd like Sean to be in my life but I'm not sure that's possible with his bizarre baggage.
Ok I'm done. Keep it classy Bella, keep it classy.