There’s NO Giving Up at 30!

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My balls have shriveled up when it comes to my writing. The fact that I haven’t written a single word in I don’t even know HOW long is not only embarrassing, it is physically debilitating. It’s like someone shanked me in the gut with a thick shard of glass and dug their way through my soul with it.

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Defective Parenting 101

Warning:  (I can’t find that word that means “caution” before or after writing something, to justify any misinterpretations by people who suck). I am at this very moment, high off of Percocet, patiently awaiting results to a CT-scan in the emergency room. I am therefore, not responsible for my writing. Bite me. Actually please don’t, I’m like in a lot of fucking pain. ‘ppreciate it.

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Writin’ in My Jeep

If there’s one major downfall to living in the “sunny” city of Miami, it is by far, the intolerable amount of traffic resulting from a clusterfuck combination of: overpopulation, under-qualified emotionally-unstable irresponsible drivers, and never ending road construction. Do not even get me fired up on all of this random ass road construction, because it seems like the almighty God of Asphalt is literally picking up streets/highways/bridges and moving them, replacing them, or disappearing them like, overnight! So annoying! But given enough time, one can learn to has no choice but to just deal with these things and make the best of that quality “alone” time (well, it is alone time for me). At least that’s what I have trained myself to do over the last few years. I mean have you ever really thought about it? What’s the sense in stressing ourselves over this one thing we most definitely can not control, and which we already know will be there waiting for us inevitably EVERY single day at the same damn time.

Some people just don’t understand the toll that stress will eventually take on their bodies and their minds! I mean fuck, I’m not a doctor nor am I a zen master, but I’m smart enough to know when, where, and what to stress over. I just dont believe traffic is worth stressing no matter how much of a nuissance it may be.Honestly, I don’t even stress money anymore and believe me, I do not have much of it. Money is Satan… it is overrated, and I have no respect for it anymore. I work to live and to enjoy life, but I will never live to work. There’s an immense difference. (Side note to my readers if there are any out there- I am NOT zealous about Satan/God/religion, nor am I a Harry Potter/StarWars/or Justin Bieber supporter). So when my fiance sadly attempts to argue or challenge me over why I went straight to Marshalls or Ross after work and spent X amount of money on unnecessary things (I beg to differ honey…this coffee mug and throw pillow were VITAL to my continuing existence on this planet) I just smile and say, ‘because it makes my friggin’ soul happy’ and carry on with my bad self.

But back to the whole traffic thing, I have a one and a half hour commute home from work, and I’ve started to apply some time management skills to this time of the day. I no longer waste energy on keeping other assholes from cutting me off, I just kindly let them win. I don’t slam on my steering wheel after realizing I still have to make a stop at Publix for milk and chicken. I don’t allow myself to have miniature strokes whenever someone feels the need to beep at me because I did not move forward in the on-ramp line which had come to a complete stop for ten minutes so I decided to write another paragraph in this post. I just breathe, turn on my favorite station, organize the billions of thoughts that bounced off my cerebral walls all day, and at some point, I become inspired and write a post!  Yes. Yes I am drivin’ and a bloggin’. I reckon that ain’t the greatest idear. But it is what it is mmm-hmmm. (Side note to my readers: I have like 6 thousand personalities. Enough said).

While I’m well aware of the consequences brought on by blogging while I drive, it’s not that serious. I only type when I’m at a complete stop. Which is pretty much every 2 seconds. And quite frankly, if it wasn’t for this time that I have to reflect and relax, I would never really be able to blog. Once I’m home, it’s like a category 76 tornado slams into me and I’m abruptly carried off into the Losing My Shit Land- where mountains of dirty laundry and dishes span the horizon, un-medicated midgets run amuck amidst waves of laughter destroying everything in their path beneath the glistening sun, and hubbies do whatever the fuck they please while singing angelic songs about dinner taking too long, the house being messy, the kids need this, the kids need that, the bills, more bills, fa-lalala-lala-la-laaaaaa.  Never go there my friends. Never. Go. There.

Well that was a whole lot of shit talking for one drive home wouldn’t ya say? I’m not even all sure that any of it made sense or how good my grammar skills were throughout the nonsense. But it was fun!  Now, whatever you do, do not READ AND DRIVE! Pay attention to the damn road people. Jesus CHRIST!

Unapologetically Yours,

E.

Disclaimer/Rant/Sh*t to Know

First of all, the fact that it’s a rainy 6 am Monday morning in Miami and I’m in a long ass line at a Starbucks drive thru with no makeup on and felt the urge to RANT about my blog and my questionable ways is all very disturbing to me. Wait wait wait, let me take it back to the part where I just gave a shit about not wearing any makeup on a Monday morning. At 6 am. THAT is a whoooollleee new level of “disturbing” which deserves its very own post.

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On Turning THIRTY!

It feels like just yesterday I was sixteen and SWORE I was a grown ass woman who was way beyond my years and had it all pretty much figured out: graduate college with a bachelors at age 22. No exceptions. Get accepted into pharmacy school no later than 23. Graduate with my PharmD before 27. Plan my dream wedding, travel (to Greece specifically), buy my first home, drive my dream car, have 2 kids- all by the time I was 30. I was pretty serious about this shit too.

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