Who, Me?

My mother-in-law INSISTED that we all come to her house for Thanksgiving, despite the fact that she has never cooked a turkey in all her 65 years and has no idea how to deal with my kid's food allergies. The only thing he could eat that she was making was the turkey. And it is not acceptable for me to bring anything except the brussels sprouts she assigned to me on Tuesday afternoon. She just called me, "haha, I didn't cook the turkey enough LAST NIGHT and it is still half raw, so there's no turkey." So now, with all the grocery store closed and a raging sinus infection, I need to figure out what to feed my family for Thanksgiving.

On instagram, I see all these "13 year old self taught makeup artist" posts. And, being crazy like I am, I go look at their pics. I've yet to see one that made me question either the 13 year old part or the "self-taught" part. And all their other child friends are chiming in with "Great contouring" and "luuuvvvvv the brows". 😂😂😂😂😂😂

I feel like total fucking shit sitting at my table, trying to paint pretty pictures and think about my next ipsy box while my friend and her husband are planning his funeral because he is dying of cancer. The situation fucking sucks and I have no idea how to help except to keep telling her how much I love her.

My kid's seven-question worksheet took over two hours to finish. I DESERVE that vodka.

If you have a vanity license plate "ONEBIGD" I am going to assume that you are referring to your personality.

You want to know how you know when you are in hell? You are trapped on the inside of the booth while your mother-in-law talks about her sex life with two of her three ex-husbands--and Panera doesn't serve vodka.

As the saying goes, I'm going to hell in gasoline underwear for wanting to comment on an obituary "Thank God he's finally gone." That asshole is the reason I had to learn all about restraining orders. It is a relief not to have that fear any longer.