Preface to this blog post:::
The room is still spinning, so I’m not sure if this is considered “drunk blogging”but it feels more like “hungover blogging”. I just got out of the bath, where I spent about 30 minutes questioning wether I would make it home or not today. Seriously guys, it’s been SUCH crazy weekend.

Also, all pictures will be regular pictures. If you want to see them look like they are from 1900 or old timey, or western, follow me on instagram. Here- shit is real. Except for one picture. Because that picture has all my bras lined up on the bed, and no one needs to know what kind of huge bras I have to use to keep these puppies in place so I blurred them out.

Part of me doesn’t want to come home. The other part of me doesn’t want to get out of bed ever.

Now I’ve never actually tasted nuclear acid, but I’m pretty sure that’s biologically and chemically identical to what I just threw up. My teeth are soft and without enamel on them, my throat is on fire and my stomach literally feels like it has a feral cat running around inside of it.

I hate drinking. I rarely drink at ALL anymore because my body basically rejects it. When I was like 16, I could drink all day and night and still be alright. I’m pretty sure I only got “too drunk”, once. That story ends with a bad cab ride, waking up in my friends little brothers bed (he wasn’t in the bed, and also he was like 5) with a GI Joe ratted into my hair with vomit.

Anyway, last night was fucking nuts. My mom got high school wasted and it was like life was really going full circle. I will spare the details, out of respect for my mother, but let me just say– if she doesn’t wakeup feeling like shit, I will be shocked.

I swear to you, my husband is the most amazing person I know. I can’t even explain how much fun we’ve had. Honestly, if it all goes bad today and we spend the entire car ride back to SF screaming at each other, I will still consider this weekend a great success. In SF I ordered this ham sandwich for breakfast before we headed out to Stockton, and Louie ate half of it. Ever since then, he can’t stop thinking about it. I mean literally. I’m in the shower yesterday and he walks in…

Hey babe. You know what I just *can’t* stop thinking about?

My vagina?

No… what? No. That ham sandwich. 

We’re at Hillary’s graduation. I look to my right and stare longingly into my beautiful husbands eyes. They seem a little glassed over.

God damnit. You’re thinking about that ham sandwich, aren’t you?

Holy shit. How did you know?

It’s a running joke now, and I think probably forever. Louie’s actually pretty funny, but you have to be really quiet and observant to catch his humor. It’s like catching a butterfly, if butterflies were almost invisible and required staying really still instead of chasing them. I don’t know what happened to that analogy, but fuck it. I’m too tired to delete anything.

So, Hillary graduated. I actually made it to the capping or gowning or hooding or whatever, it all sounds incredibly phallic. The point is, I made it. I didn’t have a nervous breakdown, and really enjoyed it. Plus I got new shoes and a new bag out of the deal. I’m pretty sure I need to act normal more often, so Louie will buy me things. I have a feeling this is how Pavlov’s Dog works, but I’m also too tired to google it.

 Let’s just say, I’ve been watching acne commercials for the past hour while writing this because I’m too tired to reach over for the remote. It feels like I’ve got acid creeping up my throat, waiting for me to make a wrong move so it can take over. I imagine this process to look like how Flubber was made, but I don’t think it involves Robin Williams. Or maybe it does, I don’t know how these things work.

So I’ll just cut right to the chase. The best part of this trip hasn’t been Hillary’s graduation, or bonding with my husband or whatever else I should probably say here. It’s totally been… how do I say this… finding our new idols? I mean, I’ve always really liked Louie’s cousin, but seeing her and her family in their natural habitat was like… enlightening? Uplifting? Inspirational? Kind of like our “best possible scenario” outcome of life. We’ve spent more time telling people how awesome Louie’s cousins are, than telling them about what we’re actually doing with our lives. It’s almost embarrassing, but I don’t care. Because, seriously, when you know someone that cool- everyone needs to know. It’s like if you really wanted to be a movie star and then ran into Meryl Streep and she let you stay in the apartment in her house and drive her car.

This is the ACTUAL house we stayed at, there was an entire apartment downstairs. It’s LITERALLY the most amazing home ever. It’s like all of my home decorating pinterest boards rolled into one beautiful home.

Spending time with his cousin and her husband helped Louie and I really start thinking about who we want to be. We sat down for dinner the first night, we had the best conversation. I’ve been grappling with what I want to do with my life, and it felt so nice to know that someone had faith that I could do all of the things I wanted to do. Not just one or the other. Not just motherhood or education, because I can be a good mother and an intelligent person with goals and aspirations that are attainable and not just imaginary. I don’t want to sit around and long for the life I desire, I want to go out there and do it. Not that I don’t know so many people who live very full lives and are happy, and support me and I love them SO much. But these guys are like, a on a whole different level. It’s like they went out there and Karate chopped life right in the fucking throat and took charge. I want to take charge.

This leads me to the psychic. It was an overall good experience. I felt like I was at a therapy session more than a psychic meeting. But here was the gist of it- Shelby is my soul mate (which we already knew, because her eyes see into my soul, duh), my grandpa is with me at school, he’s just very quiet. My grandma wants me to go ahead with fertility treatments. Also both my grandma and grandpa love that Louie wears his wedding ring. I don’t know what to do with any of that.

My reproductive endocrinologist is OK with doing a round of clomid and IUI, but I need to have two natural cycles after the miscarriage. I’m fine with that, because I really need to think about what the hell I’m doing with my life.

PS- I’m pretty sure I’ve decided on doing one of two things. Honors and then a Masters in Literature (NOT AN MFA because MFA students are assholes) or no honors, working on a Masters and taking some prerequisite medical school classes. Just to keep my options open. Do I want to take some time off before I go to grad school? I don’t know. Until, like, a week ago- I was all “fuck school, bro. Let’s just get pregnant and have 20 kids.” Talk about whiplash. I’m allowed to change my mind, and so are you!

Now, I’m more awake, after eating some toast and whining to Louie. I plan on sitting around until 1, praying that my stomach stops wanting to die and then we’ll pack up the Fiat and get this show on the road.

Just as an aside… why have we not developed a more efficient way of traveling, like teleportation? It’s really pissing me off, because I hate planes, trains and automobiles. So– engineers out there? Get your shit together, because its been like a billion years and we need to start evolving.

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