|Kiss my ass, U-Haul.|
It dawned on me between muscle spasms and the annoying nudge of the one eyed snake under the covers that I’m just never gonna be one of those Real Housewives of Bravo TV. Those skinny bitches who get to whine about how much they’ve got on their plates with all that working out and shopping they have to do. However do they find the time? Well, it’s just not in the cards for me and I’m coming to terms with it. Slowly.
When Joe told me that he had confirmed the 6 one way tickets I will admit, there was a feeling of sheer panic that swept over me. It’s like those first five seconds after you read the positive results from your home pregnancy test. You’re thrilled but at the same time thinking, Holy Shit, no turning back now. Yeah, that’s how I feel. We’ve just launched ourselves from the 10 metre platform and well, there’s no turning back now.
I won’t complain anymore about working like a slave for these next six weeks. Quite honestly, I have neither the time nor the energy. No, I think I’ll save it instead for title consideration for my future book.
The Girl with the Couch on her Back.
Reeks of Pulitzer, doesn’t it?