Mildly irritated, but I don't think you can tell.

Just because I should blog.

Oddly enough I don't have much to bitch about this weekend. Sure, people have pissed me off this week. And the second nose/third nostril has been weeping pretty consistently. And I am the candidate of the year for the escrow surgery in my opinion after this week's fun that isn't showing any signs of ending soon. And I was forced to clean the casita like it's never been cleaned before (okay, that's kind of an exaggeration but I did clean the crap out of it yesterday). And I'm waiting on docs for a 9am Monday buyer that they PROMISED I would have by Friday afternoon, which inspired me to make the 9am appointment Monday, which makes me want to kick myself for believing them and further strengthens my distrust of anyone in this business and makes me believe that everyone besides me and maybe Jodi is a big fat liar. But I'm not bitching.

I AM a little bit bitter, though, because I'm supposed to go to this wedding in August in North Dakota, of all the God-forsaken states, and have NO INFORMATION ABOUT IT WHATSOEVER (besides the date). Where are we staying? What's the itinerary for the weekend? Do I fly in Friday and out on Sunday, or are there family-related events I have to be at before and/or after? Is there a room block? Where are you registered? These are things that people travelling from out of state need to know. The betrothed is my nephew, and his fiance (or, rather, "finance", as she spells it on Facebook) is apparently in charge. And doing a piss-poor job of it, I might add. My sister sent an email to the nephew recently asking for details, since she has to fly four people out to the middle of a state we know NOTHING about because we never thought in a million years we'd ever NEED to know anything about North Dakota, and Finance responded on his behalf (is that normal? Do couples share email passwords? Are there NO BOUNDARIES in coupledom?) "Relax. It's five months away." Uh. CLEARLY you don't fly much. Or you have unlimited funds and it doesn't matter to YOU that airfare is increasing rapidly due to the cost of gas and other such nonsense.

I've been looking for any excuse to not go to this wedding, as I envision myself standing around in a barn with hay bales for seating and pork and beans and grain alcohol and a bunch of guests in San Francisco Riding Gear and checkered shirts, and this might be it. I can't stress enough about how life is pretty much a game (and I do it all the time in this blog), so if you want a motherfucking present from your dear Aunt TtheD then by God you better start learning how to play the I'm-Getting-Married game or you're getting nothing from me.

So yeah, I'm bitter and don't want to waste my money or my vacation time (actually I have a ton of one and not so much of the other) going somewhere I don't want to go and witness this vapid, vanilla girl marry my nephew. So just give me an excuse. Any excuse. I am prepping myself for a sternly-worded email to send to the both of them outlining EXACTLY why, at five months out, they need to get their shit together and tell the family what the fuck the plan is (the bitterness is growing as I type). Because I would rather spend my hard-earned money on a plane ticket to Palm Springs and Mexico than on a ticket to Nowheresville, North Dafuckingkota. Am I getting my point across?

Sooo, other than all that, fairly productive work week and weekend, and now I'm off to restock the freezer with green beans and fake meat. There are a thousand other things for me to bitch about, but today I've chosen you, Finance, and you better rest up, because the email I'm about to send you isn't going to do anything to reduce your stress level. Although it's doing wonders for mine.