Ladies, do not believe that crap about those razorblades that supposedly have the cream and moisturizer right there on the blade.  I'm telling you this as a public service.  How do I have the nerve to boldly stand up against these claims?  Because bitching about it takes my mind off the pain. 

I didn't take the time to shave my legs yesterday morning.  I have to shave every single day.  I can't stand to have my legs touch in bed at night and feel stubble.  It drives me bat-shit.  Yesterday I had other things on my mind.  So last night before bed, I grabbed this supposedly really awesome new razor blade, stuck my foot into the sink in the bathroom, wet my leg, and shaved it.  Repeated those steps with leg number two.  Now I have razor burn on both freaking legs, and it's killing me.  It's like I dry shaved with a rusty razor!  The thing is, it felt like it was shaving smoothly last night!  It felt like there actually was something on my legs!  If not, I would have stopped!  False advertisement on women's products sucks ass.  Like I didn't have enough body parts in pain, already.

However, taking positive from a negative, it's put me in just the right mood to wake everybody up and kick their asses around the house until they do their chores. 

You do realize I'm rambing about this useless stuff because to think about anything important would surely bring me to my knees, and not in a good way, right?  I can't think anymore.  I can't worry and wonder.  I can't deal. 

I want to curl up in a little ball somewhere in the dark and put Joni Mitchell on repeat.  Why is that asking so much?

I want to record the last couple weeks of my life.  Mostly because once everything is ok again, I'm never going to believe I survive this shit on a daily basis.  Now, obviously aside from having a loved one die or some life shattering ordeal, this is the worst phase...

Let's start off with spraining my foot when I got mad and kicked the dehumidifier across the basement. 

Next the third degree burn across my right hand.  A new iron that gets incredibly hot slipped right outta my hand and right across the top of it before I even knew what was happening. 

My husband wrecks his car, manages to hit the biggest idiot in the neighborhood.  Okay, not the biggest but a close second at the very least. 

The bigget one is the woman I had to threaten standing in my driveway the same evening he wrecked because I'm tired of her bully of a kid picking on mine who happens to be four years younger and half her kid's size. 

I'm trying to take care of my mother who has severe bronchitis and major kidney stones. 

The overwhelming responsibility of it all is making me fall way short on everything.  Right now my house looks like a Sunday morning after a frat party. 

My husband thought he'd be nice and buy me new knives because I was complaining about not having good ones.  Immediately upon picking one up for the very first time yesterday, I dropped the damned thing and proceeded to slice the top of my thumb all the way down into the nail bed... right to the bone.  This is my left hand, btw.  So now both hands are bandaged.  (Thank God I still have my typing fingers, right.) 

Today I will be walking around with gauze patches on both my hands and both my hips trying to deal with my own pain while trying to meet with my mother's Urologist to make sure he isn't a quack because some fuckwit told her that he's a quack and now she doesn't trust him.  So I have to meet her and play be big bad bitchy daughter and question him to make sure he's ok.

Oh, last and probably least, I guess, considering the rest of this crap... I lost my own pretty pink slippers.  Can't find one of them anywhere.  So Screw lets me wear a pair of his around the house.  His are only about twelve sizes too big for me, not to mention he doesn't wear normal ones.  The ones he lets me wear are shaped like big mallard ducks.  So I get up this morning with nothing on my mind but how good the coffee is going to taste, slip my feet into his ducks, and walk all the way to the kitchen before I realize that one of them has cat piss in it.

I have things to be thankful for, though.  Honest.  And if you'd buy me a bottle of patron, I could come with all sorts of them.

*WARNING*

The Happening movie spoilers in this post!

So my husband, as you already know, had the day off on Thursday.  Sensing my impending meltdown he decided we'd go to an early movie and then out to dinner.  He knows I'm an M. Night Shyamalan fan.  I think that sometimes he has to be too mainstream, and his storylines take the beating for it.  But I really like the guy's twists.  I think if we got his ideas in nice thick novels, they would be unbelievable.  Screw teased me all the way there about how we'd see this movie or that movie, knowing all the while that he was taking me to see The Happening.

Now, the critics have basically torn this movie apart.  They hated it.  They found this wrong with it, that wrong with it, but then, they don't get the luxury of going into a movie and merely watching it for entertainment purposes only.  I liked the movie.  I'm telling you right now, the thud of bodies just falling off buildings, one by one, was way worth more than nineteen tomatoes.  I knew they were going to do it, yet with every new thud, I jumped.  He follows that stupid site religiously knowing they never give horror movies high ratings.  He makes me so mad with it, I want to strangle him.  "But Angel, that movie only got twenty tomatoes!"  How about I throw twenty of them at you, and THEN you take me to see the damn movie? hmm?

I digress.

The movie has been dubbed an ecological thriller, and it is in a way, but it's nowhere near preachy or anything.  In the first scenes of the movie, Mark Wahlberg makes his appearance as your average everyday science teacher.  Well, maybe not average.  He obviously likes his job, and oh how I wish my science teachers looked like him.  He's talking to his class about the disappearance of the honeybee.  He wants them to give him their theories of where the bees went.  One kid says, "It's an act of nature, and we'll never know."  (or something like that) 

And thus begins the drama.  The plants on earth revolt at our abuse and begin to release neurotoxins into the air.  *Enter death, gore, and horror*  blah blah blah

I've told you this long drawn out story because at the end of the movie, after everything is over, a man is giving an interview and he says he believes that it was a warning.  You know, that we'd better straighten up, etc.  That's it for the preaching.  He gets ridiculed, obviously, but he believes that we've abused nature, and nature is fighting back.

It really is a decent movie.  I can't believe it got an R rating because the gore really wasn't that bad.  I guess, on the other hand, I haven't jumped nearly as many times on really gory movies as I did this one.  I'm telling ya, it doesn't matter that you know it's going to happen... random bodies falling from the sky is just frigging creepy.

We both agreed the movie, while not the best movie we'd ever seen, was worth our money.  We were home later that evening just relaxing across the bed, laughing and talking about stuff.  The movie came up and we were talking about how odd it was to see Wahlberg in that sort of roll, and I think we both have sort of a crush on Zooey Deschanel.  We talked about the plot and how even though it was out there and not as deep as we would have liked it to be (why I said lengthy novels would be killer awesome), we liked the movie. 

Then my husband says, "But I don't understand why the trees killed the bees!"

OHH EEMM GEE

I laughed so hard I cried.  I laughed so hard it became painful.  My husband is brilliant.  He really is.  That isn't just me being his wife.  He's one of the most clear thinking, learned and logical people I've ever known.  Here he was asking me why the trees killed the bees.

After I pulled myself together, which took a great amount of time, I said, "You freaking dumbass, it was a tree-hugger movie.  The trees didn't kill the bees.  WE killed the bees, so the trees were gonna kill us because they were afraid of us!"  The lightbulb went on and he was like, "OHHHH, I see!"  And he was totally serious.

I know this is a "ya had to be there" kind of story, but it was absolutely hilarious.  If you could have heard the seriousness in his voice when he asked me that.  Then a bit later, he decides he's going to read some more reviews on the movie, and he actually finds someone who reviewed the movie and thought the trees killed the bees, too.  Of course this guy was clueless.  He critiqued the movie for things he said they left out, etc.  And those things were clearly addressed right in the movie, almost word for word to answer the questions he asked.  I'm thinking he saw a different movie.  Anyway, you can imagine the thrill for Screw when he found another human being who didn't get what happened to the bees.

I'm still in complete fits of laughter, lying on his shoulder, trying to calm down when he calmly says, "We didn't kill the bees.  There are plenty bees out there.  I know.  I step on them everyday."

More hysterical laughter from me because by then, delirium had set in and there was no turning back for me.  I told him the plants were gonna fuck him over real good for stepping on the bees. 

I think I scared him.