Hello, my tiny little friends!
I am in Los Angeles, my darlings. It’s true! I have escaped the snow and sleet and rain and FROGS RAINING FROM THE SKY and whatever else is going on in the Northeast, and have gone to LA where it is sunny and lovely and I’m not going back until the snow melts, which will be somewhere around the 4th of July, right? I mean, it’s getting out of control.
I am staying with the boyfriend, who has a name, but we’ll call him Outpost31, because that’s more dramatic, and he just dashed off to work, leaving me to my own devices here in Los Angeles, which is dreadfully dangerous, because I plan on taking a walk later, and that might put me on the 10 most wanted list simply because I cannot be trusted to be on my own. Seriously, I have said it before and I’ll say it again, I need a handler or a caregiver or something because I cannot be trusted to be on my own. I can’t take care of myself. Anyone else? Children? Pets? People in crisis? I’m your woman. I will take a bullet for someone else. For myself? I’m the deer in headlights, getting mowed down by a gigantic SUV because the lights are so pretty. I’m a mess. It’s a miracle I’ve lasted 33 years.
So first I considered staying in all day, like I do in NJ, but what fun is that? It’s sunny! And somewhat warm! I mean, 55 degrees? That’s practically sweating weather next to the nightmare of sleet and tears that is NJ. So I have to go out. It’s required. So of course, I’m writing a blog instead of going out. That and The View is on, and I never miss those bitches. That, and I can’t turn off the TV cause Outpost31’s TV is SUPER COMPLICATED and I forget how to turn it off, and more importantly, turn it back on. THAT’S the important part, because my stories are on later.
I’m practically bouncing with joy that I’m here, not only because I’m with my beloved Outpost31, but because the SUN IS OUT and there is NO SNOW and also NO CAT ASSES in my face. I miss my precious angel babies something fierce, I mean, they’re my pride and joy, but I know they’re in the apartment, sprawled out without a care in the world, not missing me at all. MY PRECIOUS ANGEL BABIES DON’T MISS ME. It’s a fact of life. Like the show. No, nothing like the show. Nancy McKeon is nowhere to be found.
BUT SHE MIGHT BE, BECAUSE IT’S LA.
There are so many possibilities! I can cause trouble whereever I go! I can run against the traffic lights like I do in NYC! (Outpost31 just died of a stroke because he knows the traffic patterns in LA) and skip and jump around Studio City without a care in the world and totally get lost and never find Outpost31’s apartment building and I’ll cry a lot and sit on the curb, wailing that I need an adult.
Anyhoodle, I love being here, I love that Outpost31 will come home and I’ll tackle him like a linebacker when he comes through the door and he will not be able to dislodge me no matter what he does and he’ll have to tote me around the apartment like a parasitic twin all the way up the stairs. That’s love, people. Hiking your fat ass girlfriend up the stairs because she has fingernails, and they are in your skin. THIS VISIT IS GOING TO BE AWESOME.
I’m laughing my ass off right now and it’s because Outpost31 will read this and realize what he is coming home to and will cower under his desk and NEVER come home because dear god, there is a lunatic waiting there. He may live in his car for the remainder of time.
I’m an awesome girlfriend. He might be crying right now. Because he has nowhere to go. Just home, where the Creature of the Lunatic Lagoon is waiting. You should shed a tear. You really should.
This has become a sad story. Like Steel Magnolias, only sadder. WEEP for my poor Outpost31, people. HE HAS TO COME HOME TO THIS!