I'm already sick of seeing, via Facebook status updates, how awesome everyone's 2009 was. It's much easier to bitch. So here are the shitty things that happened to me this year.
• I started the year off with a bang by having an allergic reaction to hummus on New Year's Eve. I spent the night curled up in a little ball in my friend's bed, wishing to die. Limped home in really shitty snow/sleet early on Jan 1 (kind of peed my pants a little) hoping the year would not be a reflection of it's shitty beginning.
• After roughing it apple picking in New Paltz, a spider crawled into my Steve Madden cowboy boots and my foot turned deep purple and swelled so large I couldn't wear footwear or put weight on it, OR GO TO HIP HOP CLASS : ( and was positive they would have to amputate. POSITIVE.
• This year saw a record number of vag issues, and I became way too palsy with my Lady Doctor.
• My landlord broke into my apartment while I was at work, peed, did not flush, left the seat up, turned on all the lights, and did not lock my door.
• Buddy died, which led to my lamest Facebook status update ever.
• Worst hangover/drinking injury ever: after taking the waiver-required "Punisher" tequila shot, my mouth was painfully swollen and I pulled a muscle in my side so hard (still unclear how this happened) that the next day I could only get one drink when I went out drinking again, which was also a poor decision.
• The Balloon Boy.
• After jumping out of a cab full of puke, I found myself stranded lost and alone somewhere in Harlem at midnight wearing a really slutty skirt. I was just trying to get to Mojave.
• I fell and scraped my knees while sprinting across the street wearing my Minnie Mouse shoes, which caused a line of people waiting to get into the Regis & Kelly Show to burst into laughter. When I stood up I got hit in the head by a pigeon.
• On Halloween I had to pull a walk of shame in a Tinkerbell costume. Across Central Park. On the morning of the New York City Marathon.
• I leaned how hard it is to break up with a psychiatrist.
Me: I don't want to talk to you anymore. You're boring.
Him: No, I know you better than you do. I'm good for you.
He also said bullshit like, "you have unresolved issues with your father" and "I'm boring because I have cancer". Both untrue.
In all seriousness, I had a wonderful year and I'm incredibly lucky and grateful for everything. Like some PR company sent me a massage chair for my work chair and I am sitting here right now, my buttcheeks warm and all massaged, and somehow, I feel that compensates for the spider bite, drinking injuries, and near-rape incidents in Harlem. God bless you and yours, kiddies, and smoochies from me!
-lp
