Here Comes the Bride

So around 4:30 this morning, my eyes pop wide open. I look around the room and wonder silently, "What in the hell woke me up...I was sleeping soooooo goooood! Oh, lord, did my neighbor come home drunk again, which means she is screaming like she has a bad case of Tourettes?" I listen. Nope. Silence. Then out of nowhere I scream, "Good Lord...for the love of God make it stop!!!" So, two things are happening here:
1. The worst menstrual cramps I believe I have ever had in my entire life. Fuckin' Eve.
2. LACTOSE INTOLERANCE. Somehow, I thought that drinking a very small glass of 2% milk before bed would be a fantastic follow-up to the glass of wine and chocolate cake I had just before.

Time-out...what is it with me and drinking alongside a delicious baked good? I think this is something for Robert in Friday's therapy session.

So point being, I am pretty sure that I am dying or there is getting ready to be a recreation of that scene in Space Balls when that disgusting thing bursts out of that guys stomach, and someone screams, "Water my ass. Get this guy some pepto-bismol!" Ohhh...wonder if I can find that on YouTube.

So needless to say, I end up in the bathroom, pants around my ankles, in the dark, drinking Alka Seltzer, wild hair, mostly out of it from the Ambien I took, and praying that God will just kill me now. So then my mind starts turning, I find that I do some of my best thinking on the toilet...OK, maybe not best, but definitely interesting. The random chain of thoughts went something like this:

1. If giving birth is anything like what I am feeling in this moment, I will definitely not be having children.

2. Fuck it. I'll get an epidural. Maybe I will have kids.

3. God, I'm getting too old to have kids. Hmmm...if Emily and I could reproduce those would be some damn cute kids.

4. Nah...no kids. Can't have tons of sex when you have kids.

5. Maybe we should get married first.

6. Wonder what the wedding will be like. Totally on the beach. Wonder if lots of people will come. Probably.

7. Hmmm...where will they sit? Ohhh... I know. We could give them white beach chairs as their gifts w/ Emily and Amanda written on them, kind of like Brit-Brit and K-Fed's "Pimps and Hos" track suits. Then they could just keep them and enjoy the beach.

8. Nah...that would be expensive. Plus I don't even want a chair w/ our names on it. Too lezy.

9. What kind of ring would she want (Pause while I stare at the ring finger on my left hand for an un-godly amount of time.)

10. Maybe I should get a bridal magazine. Oh...that would be pointless, all those frilly hetero girls posing w/ those gay models in Armani suits.

11. There really needs to be a wedding magazine for the gay world. You know, what folks are wearing, doing, etc.. OMG....it could be a special edition mag from Curve that comes out like 4 times a year. Like one for each season or some shit.

12. I should totally email Curve about this. Totes.

13. No. That's fucking lame.

14. OH GOD I have cramps. Wonder if I can reach the Alieve in the cabinet. (I get the Alieve). Shit, I don't have any water (I take the Alieve using what is left of my Alka Seltzer.)

15. OH NO! Is that going to kill me? Is that dangerous? (I read the back of the Alieve bottle). Shit...something about bleeding stomach.

16. Whatever.

17. Hmmm, I wonder how many National decisions George Bush has made from his toilet in the White House? A lot I bet.

So...yep. At this point it is 6:00. I wrap things up, wash my hands, grab the heating pad, get back in bed, pass out, and oversleep for work. My first day back in a week. AWESOME!

I'm just happy that I managed to begin planning my wedding (and future children) to a girl I have been dating for two weeks as of today from the seat of a toilet. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BABY! XOXOXO