be vewy quiet -- she's bwogging agwain...

Tomorrow I go back to work after a week's sabbatical. And because that in itself is not a daunting enough task, I decided that tomorrow would be a GREAT day to take the French CLEP that I have deluded myself into thinking that I can rock at.

I am clearly messed in the head.

My guidance counselor suggested that I give it a whirl but the only subject I am eligible in is French, because I don't have any lower language credit in that. That's because I was exempt because of my five freaking years of French in high school. Which would really be pretty useful to have in my background if that weren't 17 years ago.

Oy, I am OLD.

But, really, it's what Stephanie and I have been calling flooring it. Well, normally we say that when our eating is out of control, but in this case I am flooring it to take some control over my life, which frankly feels like it ricocheting out of control lately.

But enough about Thursday night.

We're throwing a cook-out party this Saturday. I'm really freaked out about it. We have had so many unsuccessful parties that I am super-intimidated to throw another one. Mostly because there aren't usually as many people as we expect and then I'm so stressed the whole time that I just either get really wasted or just float around the whole time trying to avoid small talk.

I really hate small talk. It is so not my thing. I really specialize in big talk. I'm 35 and I have a lot going on, I could give a shit what you do for a living or what you think about the weather. But, how you can still be a Republican after the last eight years or how you balance out the Obama v. Clinton struggle for power -- that I find intensely fascinating. And the time that you got lost on your vacation and that actually turned out to be the best part of the vacation. Or how long you've known your best friend and what keeps you together through all the ups and downs of life.

That, however, does not make good party fodder. Enough people ask you enough inane questions and I start to wonder -- is that all there is?

Yeah, I'm long past the old pajamarama days. Those were just fun, drunken good times. Too much drinking and smoking and too many of Scott's shots and just general silliness. I mean, who can't be goofy in their pj's at someone else's house? There would always be some random person left the next day and it would always be someone I would hardly know and end up just laughing over nothing with... Man, don't y'all miss those pajama parties?? Obviously I do.

Anyways, wish me luck getting through my party anxiety. I should have such horrible problems, eh? :0)

Life's all about the distraction anyways....

xoxoxo,
hpl