Danny, the bestest husband in the universe "surprised" me by bringing me lunch at the store, and as if slaving over a hot stove and cold candy aisle wasn't enough, Dan cleaned the entire house while i was gone, AND mopped, AND made me a card. I think he might just be the best.
To repay this kindness, i threw a fit about having the HARDEST FUCKING CLASS OF SCHOOL I HAVE EVER HAD TO SIT THROUGH EVER. Seriously, after straining to understand three hours of economics math that was NOT AT ALL EXPLAINED TO ME in the fashion that one might have called TEACHING, rather by plunging deep into the middle of a subject for which we should have been briefed by homework chapters if they weren't in FUCKING HYROGLYPHICS, i drove home to the realization that NO ONE GIVES A RATS ASS IF YOU TRY YOUR HARDEST, because sometimes your hardest equals complete FAILURE, YOU PATHETIC LOSER, and no matter how much you feel it is your right to FUCKING WHINE about how hard you're WORKING, if you don't understand the actual work, well, it's your actual work to understand it, you moron, that's your fucking job in school. (Wah, it's not fair! I try so hard! Leah, i don't know when you will understand this, but the world did not, does not, and will not owe you any favors for gracing it with your presence, so you'd better get with the fucking program because i'm tired of living with this fucking baby blubbering all the time and I'M YOU!)
In other news that makes me want to shoot myself in the face, we got our wedding album proofs back, big this time, and the big proofs reveal in a shot that is a full page of my ugly mug, the biggest roll of under-arm fat i have ever seen in a photo ever, you could call it under-arm camel-toe, i swear it looks like a female private-parts squishing out over my dress, because that's what i get for wearing a strapless dress and simultaniously being a fucking fatass. Seriously, when i saw this picture, the undulating roll of skin so perfectly framed in the EXACT MIDDLE of the page, i wanted to throw up so bad i almost started dry-heaving in my perfectly clean kitchen (where i guess dry-heaving would be most appropriate.) This is exactly what i wanted in the front of my wedding album: the proof that i will fail at everything i ever attempt (economics) because i have failed at everything i have attempled so far (not being a fatass in my wedding pictures by a) demonstrating disgusting underarm fat, b) not lifting my arm up to take this picture, and c) not seeing the disgusting barf-worthy fatness in the two previous rounds of proofs, where it wasn't such a pain-in-the-ass to change, you incredible retard).
After the triple failure of losing my job this week, school proving that YES PARENTS, YOU ARE RIGHT, I AM INCREDIBLY STUPID, and realizing that i will always be a fat disgusting eyesore above a hundred and fifteen pounds, i guess you could say that i'm having a bad day. Valentines day, with my incredible adoring husband who is the most wonderful person to live with in the whole entire world, only proves that it is ME, LEAH who is one-hundred percent in control of fucking up my own life, and i'm doing it, hard.
What with my horrible evening yesterday, with the whining and the bitching, i completely forgot that February 14th marked the one-year anniversary of my lasik laser eye surgury! Can you imagine? Just over one year ago i was still walking around with the incredible blight of having to put contacs in my eyes every morning and take them out every evening! Now, a year later, as the memory of the lasik torture chamber fades, i forget there was even such a thing as near-sightedness. I am only reminded of my once-invalid condition by the moisturizing drops i put in my eyes semi-frequently, and the fact that sometimes in street-light conditions my right eye has trouble focusing on mid-range objects. The doctors say my eyesight is 20/20 in that eye, and slightly better in the other, but i secretly believe that my brain never caught up with the right-eye part of the realignment. It was too busy being creative and hugging fairies or some crap. Stupid left brain.
It was that fatefull valentines day one year ago, that Dan took me home from the hospital to our Arlington appartment, lovingly taping the plastic bug-eyes onto my face before i went to bed, nurishing me with pampering and popsicles. Actually, i don't remember popsicles. I might be confusing lasik with when i got my wisdom teeth out in 10th grade. Were there popsicles then? Brain why do you fail me??? Stupid brain, what are you even doing up there?
Brain says E=dP/dQ=MP/Q
Fuck you, brain.
Dan: "Okay, this guy looks like he's going to be fast."
Leah: "You're only saying that because he's Black."
Dan: "Hush you."
Leah: "What makes you think that someone with African heritage is going to be particularly gifted at speed skating? It's not like we're watching sprinting or anything."
Dan: "That's awful."
Leah: "Ice is not in their blood."
Dan: "He's gotta win! He'll be the first Africa American to take home the gold at a winter olympics, ever."
Leah: "Snows too cold for them."
Dan: "You better stop before we get in trouble."