Woe is me

I am tired. No, that's not an accurate description. I am exhausted. My eyes feel huge and puffy. I put all my negative energy into my last kickboxing class last night, so my thighs have the ache of day-old squats and my shoulders feel like they were smacked with a lead pipe. Mr. Babypants has cut 4 new teeth this week - 3 of which were molars - and if you've never experienced the wonders of teething let me tell you it's enough to make one seriously consider a cosmetic hysterectomy. I've got to call my insurance company today because they sent a fairly large payment to the doctor instead of me, even though they told her office they could clearly see in the system it was supposed to go to the insured and just couldn't explain the mistake. I'm trying to plan my trip, google mapping my way across the south and realizing that maybe I should have just flown like a normal person because driving solo through rural Texas might not be so fun. It's not even 11 am yet. I feel that it's going to be a long day.

And if that all wasn't enough, Carly got kicked off American Idol last night. WTF? Stupid 13-year-old girls are texting like animals for white dread-boy, and Carly has to pay the price. Maybe if I go to the bar she works at in downtown SD she'll have a beer with me.

At least Carly looked great. The tight vest paired with a long tee really accentuated her waist, it was a good style for her, unlike Leona Lewis' horrible pairing of those black shoes with that white dress. How uncomfortable did she look? Now every time I hear "Bleeding Heart" on the radio I'm going to picture her giving the microphone stand a hand job and looking like she was going to pop-a-squat and pee right on the stage! And is she black or tan? Not that it matters, but when you can't tell it's time to fire your make-up artist. Either ease up on the fake tan or invest in a new foundation.