Boxes, Tacos, and Rum

I promised Amanda (TheMomJob) a blog last night, but I never got to it... so here it is. Admittedly, it has been too long since my last post. I'll try to make it worth it, but I can't make any promises because - well, I read over the draft that I saved last night, & it's just not pretty. See, I had a master plan to drink & pack all night, but I got interrupted.

That's right, kids, I'm moving.

I hate that I won't be able to give you more stories on Living With The Ex. However, I do *NOT* hate that I will no longer be Living With The Ex. The past month & a half had actually not been all that unpleasant, given that one of us could've killed the other (& one of us might have maybe considered it - just a little). There were rollercoaster moments, sure. Ever the optimist, I tried to make the best of it. Until....

The past few weeks have been getting worse & worse, but this week was nothing short of hellacious. Seriously - Week. From. Hell. It all came to a head on Wednesday when Jackass picked up my phone & went through my texts while I was in the shower. I know what you're thinking. Clearly, I asked for him to snoop by leaving my phone in a common area, no? He discovered some things that made him rather, ah, unhappy. I'll spare you the gorier details (& some of the good ones too, but I can't give away EVERYTHING just yet), but know this: No day is a good day when you're yelled at, called a lying whore, & told that you have a week to move everything you own - all before 9 AM. It's especially bad when you then hear from your boss that your First Choice Escape Plan isn't going to happen. If there was any night I should've been drinking, it was Wednesday. Instead...

Back to the drawing board.

Since then, I've formulated a plan that is already set in motion. My friend/hairdresser Hunter is The Best Ever, & his girlfriend is pretty awesome too - you know, since there's a chick that she doesn't know all that well that's OH BY THE WAY moving in with her boyfriend. It helps that I might just curl up & DIE laughing if anyone suggested there was anything between Hunter & me. So... in a few days I'll have a new awesome roommate. Who can make my hair look prettyful - every day, if I can talk him into it. (Side note: I canNOT do this. My hair does less than nothing on its own.) Who also has an equally awesome girlfriend that can do the same thing. And they both have a killer sense of humor. Needless to say, I'm excited! Oh, & I got to call The Ex a prude in another big blowout fight, which was pretty fun. Any time you get the chance to call someone a prude, do it. Tell me it's not fun, & you're lying.

So there I was last night, eating Taco Bell & drinking 32 ounces of happiness - Captain Morgan Private Stock & Diet Pepsi. I was well on my way to drunk, & quite happy about it. Cleaning off the bookshelf & shoving books into boxes. Discovering Chihuahua pee that ruined 6 of my hardbacks (to be replaced by The Ex - or else). Gleefully preparing for the fun times ahead with my roommate plus one.

And then Jackass walked in the door.

SIGH.

More drinking & packing fun to follow today/tonight - I'll let you know how it goes.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right...

**Updated with dog pictures. :)

... here you are, stuck in the middle with me.

So I changed the lyrics a bit. Problem? Good. I thought not. Let's get started, shall we?

Clearly, I'm new to the blogosphere. I was drawn here by the hilarity that is TheMomJob, courtesy of my friend Amanda. That, & the fact that I can pretty much say whatever I want - & you as readers have to listen to me. (At least pretend to, & make us both happy, k?) I've been toying with this idea for a while, but I could never find a name for what I wanted to say... or at least one that wasn't taken. I'm still not quite sure that this name works, but then again I'm highly indecisive. I also tend to ramble a lot thanks to the fact that I have ADD, so I'll cut to the chase & give you the rundown on why I decided to suck it up & start blogging.

I live in Birmingham, Alabama, but my parents live in another city - that is, if you want to call the bustling metropolis of Gadsden, Alabama a city. Some of the best friends I have also live in other cities, or at least spend a good chunk of their time working out of town. Add to that these facts:

1. I have been living with an ex-boyfriend for a little over a month.
2. One of my co-workers is the absolute bane of my existance.
3. I grew up an only child who actually wasn't that spoiled, but was certainly accused of being such.
4. I am a woman, & therefore the occasional Bitch on Wheels.
This also means I like to speak my mind often. Since I've already told you that I spend a good deal of my time in places where I can't do that, this place is going to be my outlet. I'm sure that it will contain lots of The Funny, some of The Sad, occasionally The Pissed Off, but mostly just my life. Raw & in rare form. Live & in color. Insert other cliche phrases here. I hope that you like what you read, but if you don't... Well, it's not exactly your blog, now is it?

Just to reward you for getting this far into my first post, I'll give you a typical story from the last month of my life in the apartment with The Ex. (To forewarn you, he may also be referred to as Ex Factor, Jackass, or any other name I feel at the moment. I trust that most of you are intelligent beings who will be able to follow along.)

As a little bit of backstory, you should know that I have a 3 & 1/2-year-old beagle named Layla. (Yes, after the Eric Clapton song of the same name. Awesome, I know.) She is quite possibly the sweetest high-energy dog on the face of the planet, as well as the fattest. We're talking 30+ pounds here, people. She very much loves to love on people & will not hesitate to leap straight into your lap as soon as you sit down anywhere. The result is a concentration of all her 30+ pounds on whatever unfortunate part of your body her paws happen to land. Let me tell you right now, that's a lot of weight on not a lot of paw. Painful! I digress.

So, I have Layla. The Ex has Charlie, a Chihuahua-Manchester Terrier mix who is old (he's not sure how old, but that's another story) & cranky.
While I am actually quite fond of Charlie, he has a tendency to be what I call A Little S***, & it took a while for he & Layla to actually get along. Now that he is used to her, it seems that he's grown quite fond of having her around. Layla, social creature that she is, also seems to love Charlie and - for some reason unbeknownst to me - The Ex. Now you have the backstory, & again, I digress.

Scene: The Laundry Room/Kitchen, a random weeknight about 2 or 3 weeks ago. I was in the laundry room, folding/hanging up clothes. The Ex was leaning against the bar in the kitchen, talking to me & thinking I was listening. Silly man. Part of his rambling catches my attention, & this is what went down:

Ex: "So, whenever you move out, you know I'm gonna have to get a beagle. I'm just gonna miss Layla way too much."

Me: "Eh?" Thinking - "I really couldn't care less."

Ex: "Yeah. & I want you to help me train it."

This is the part where my brain has a serious What. The. F. moment. Keep in mind that a big chunk of the reason that I ended the relationship is the fact that I felt for a long time like The Ex was completely focused on, well, The Ex... & nothing else. We're talking not a single girlfriend-centric thought in that thing he calls a brain. The words that have just escaped his self-absorbed lips are nothing but further proof that my feelings have been Dead On. At this point, I'm seesawing between "Did he actually just say that?"- & "Time to rip him a new selfish ass"- type thoughts. I wanted more than anything to ask what could possibly make him think that I would do ANYTHING for HIM - you know, the person I BROKE UP WITH - when there would be less than nothing in it for me. Thankfully, I managed to mutter something along the lines of "I really don't think that would be a good idea" before retreating to my closet to hang my newly-clean clothes (ahhh, my Happy Place - cleaning/organizing) & simmer in my rage.

Speaking of, guess who just walked in the door & is forcing more self-centered babble into my ears. Time to be really tired & go to bed.