Soooo....

I have absolutely nothing to say. I'd like to think that the best blogs start out that way, but that just isn't the case. I mean, really. Who wants to read the completely incoherent thoughts of some random person over the internet? And to make things worse, my computer is being a cranky little bitch. It acts like it's the one working 60 hours a week...

Oh yeah, did I mention that? 60. Fucking. Hours. Every week. No end in sight. I know, I know, I should be thankful to even have a job right now. Hell, that's why I go in. But seriously? This shit is bananas!

*B-A-NA-NA-S*

I'd apologize for the fact that you're going to have that song stuck in your head all day, but I'm not sorry :D

Anyway. I need to get back into the swing of blogging. Just writing in general, really. I don't have time to write my story about the baseball player and the stripper (it'll be good, I promise), so blogging every day will have to do. Only problem is, I have nothing to write about other than building clippers and being a newlywed.

I won't assault you with blogs about how I burnt dinner, oops!, mostly because I don't have time to cook. And, even if I did, I wouldn't burn it. I'm a goddess at the stove. As long as the package has directions, that is. Wanna hear about my diaphragm instead? Did I even spell that right?

Yeah. Pain in the ass. I mean, vagina. When I went to get fitted for it, the doctor wasn't even sure he'd be able to find a kit since it had been so long since he last used it. But he did, and now I have non-hormonal birth control that has a 16% failure rate. Awesome. And I have to drown it in spermicide, stick it in my hoo-ha (no more than an hour before intercourse, mind you!), and then remember to take it out later. Not immediately, oh no. Optimum time frame? 6-8 hours later. I suppose that makes sense. Have sex, go to sleep, and then take it out when you get up in the morning. Or early afternoon, in my case. Good times. And then it takes not one but TWO fingers to get it out, and I'm always still a little sore, and ooooooooooh, ouch, and no wonder I never want to have sex anyway.

Is anyone still reading?

So yeah. Life is boring. I'm happy, though. At least, I think I am. I dunno. Life is drama-free and same ol', same ol' all the time, and that's what I wanted. I knew boredom was going to be part of it. I have a husband who worships the ground I walk on, who's afraid that I'll leave him if he breathes the wrong way, and who would fuck me all day long if he could. That's how it's supposed to be, right? Then why I am already questioning whether or not I did the right thing?

Oh yeah. It's because this whole marriage thing hasn't sunk in yet. It's been 2 months, and we were only together 5 months before that. It all went so fast, and I was just looking for a reliable fuckbuddy when I met him. I'm still getting used to the fact that he's not the "strong silent type" like guys are supposed to be, and that he just wants to be with me constantly. I haven't had a day to myself in waaaaaaaaaay too long. I need that time to recharge, to get my bearings again, to blog about stupid shit that is totally irrelevant to everybody else.

But no. I get one day a week to not be at work, and he has decided that MY one day belongs to him.

It's so hard to be understood as an introvert. That, hopefully, will be the most retarded statement in this blog. But seriously? He just doesn't realize that I need to be completely, 100% alone every now and then. Otherwise, every little thing gets fucking annoying and I want to shoot a fucker in the fucking face. But I can't, because then I'd have to go to jail, and I can't fight for anything as far as I know, and I don't want to be some butch dyke's bitch.

Sigh.

We filled out applications for North Carolina jobs the other night. Maybe life will be more exciting there. I can dream, can't I?