Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Does Prozac mix with white or red?

So, yeah.
If it isn't already glaringly obvious from my main blog, this winter has taken a huge toll on me, psychologically.  I was already knee-deep into a 2+ year mild depression stemming from all sorts of shit I don't want to go into here, and then this winter decided to pummel us day after motherfucking day with snow, cold, and gray.  Always with the gray.  And the shoveling.  And the wind. 


I know that millions of Americans have had shittacular to the nth degree weather this year, I get it.  But this year I needed to not dive deeper into that angry bitch we call depression.  I needed sunshine when we had a 2+ week stretch of cloudy, angry days.  I needed "me" time when I ended up shoveling 3-4 times a day.  I needed to hop on my bike and just...ride when we had snow so deep that one could barely walk in it. 

I've always been good at (and smugly prided myself at) being able to pretty much force myself out of any psyche-wallowing that I would find myself in.  I'm sardonic, sarcastic, and pretty much a smart assed know-it-all, and in the face of soul-crushing depression I always thought I could talk myself out of it.

Well, I usually could, but not this time.

I'm actually feeling a lot better these days, and my new treadmill/happy machine arrives tomorrow, so things are looking up.  Mostly I just wanted you to know that things aren't always sunshine and happiness at Casa de VonPartypants.
Especially when Renaldo, my shockingly good-looking and seemingly not gay pool boy/manservant, has the week off.  Man- that fucking SUCKS.  I hate it when there isn't anyone to wax my bikini line and bring me fresh mojitos.  Sucks.


What a motherfucking difference a day makes...

Actual, un-retouched photos, both taken today (I shit you not)(You know I wouldn't shit you. Or ON you, for that matter.)(But I'd totally talk shit about you if you did that one thing we never talk about anymore)(You know the one.)(You know- the one that got you ARRESTED in Tijuana, dummy.)(Anyhoo...):

#1, the one we'll gently call "before" much like adult diapers are called "personal undergarments":

And #2, the one we'll call "holy shit, that skanky hobo cleans up real nice!":

I can't lie, people- this winter has kicked my psyche's ass HARD.  I'm lethargic, prone to drinking wine in the afternoon, and pretty much not giving of a shit on any level, physical or metaphysical.  This blog has taken a back seat to sad online shopping and hiding my "Real Housewives of..." habit much like a heroin addict, minus the track marks.  The fact that I once again feel like an actual female member of the human race who actually possesses a vagina makes me feel like...me:1, Seasonal Affective Disorder:0

I Winned!!!

(And I owe my hairdresser a huge cake with sparkles, rainbows and sugar unicorns.)

I hope I'm back, bitches.  I really hope I am. 
If not, go kick a snowman in the junk in my honor.  That fucker owes me.