This weekend, the gods of time decided to
A) gift those childless members among us a Saturday Halloween AND THEN an extra hour of sleep; and
B) kick those who do have children in the metaphorical (and, maybe, literal) ballsScrolling through my Facebook feed, I saw not one, not two, but three mom-friends of mine wailing things like “HOW IS IT ONLY 4:30?!?!?!?”
I feel for you, mom-friends and dad-friends. Really, I do. But I do not at all envy you. Last night, the ol’ uterus almost got the best of me. I was scrolling through my Facebook and Instagram feeds and saw all of your amazing babies dressed as wee dragons and little elephants and tiny, tiny Big Bad Wolves (AND, I’m happy to report, NOT ONE ELSA). That bastardly ol’ uterus of mine began that damned siren song of hers.
UTERUS: “Come on, loser, you totally want one of those.”
ME: “But I don’t think we’re quite ready for-”
UTERUS: “But tiny sheep costume.”
ME: “I don’t know. We’re still getting set-”
UTERUS: “But you could dress as Kanga and the baby could be Roo. You f*cking love Winnie the Pooh.”
ME: “Get behind me, Uterus!”
UTERUS: “…..I can’t.”
But then, after reading about the Daylight Savings Time toddler meltdowns, as I sprinkled tiny pellets into Ahab the Fear Fish’s tank (story forthcoming), I was like, “Nah. I’m good for now.” For now. Granted, Ahab swore at me and told me to try harder with myself because “Really, bitch? Can you ever do anything more than a ponytail everyday maybe?” But what can I say? My fish is an asshole.
So I had a nice, sleep-filled Daylight Savings, but my Adult Halloween was terribly uneventful. In Halloweens past, I stayed up way too late (generally dressed as a Harry Potter character) and drank way too much in terrible, unwise combinations (wine + margaritas + more wine + whiskey sours + hollah! = DIE).
As a result, my day-after-Halloween (or substituted day of adult Halloween observance) generally involved me clutching my body pillow with a large pile of crackers and a gatorade near my head as I binge-watched Arrested Development and made bargains with my maker.
This year, I was in bed at 10:30 and actually fell asleep in the middle of an episode of Futurama. I stand by this life choice.
I did, however, have a brush with near chaos. I briefly went to a Halloween party and was offered this:
My friends…. *sigh*
Do you remember that episode of Parks and Rec? With the Snake Juice?
Yeeeeeaa. Serpent’s Bite = Snake Juice. And for those of you who have ever wondered what Snake Juice tastes like, let me clear that up for you. For that is what I do here at The Nested Blog. I make questionable or bad life choices so that you don’t have to!
Snake Juice = Apple Juice + Kentucky Gentleman + Cherry Cough Syrup. (Is that the recipe for meth? I don’t know. I didn’t watch Breaking Bad. Too much scary. Not enough scantily clad, horse-riding men with swords. Or wizards.)
It is a most fortunate thing that I did not love this Snake Juice, friends. As it was, my Daylight Savings Day After Halloween morning was delightful, sleep-filled, and warm-as-a-drowsy-kitten. I slept for 10 hours and then my sweet mom made me coffee, biscuits, and bacon. And then I went and helped her buy a refrigerator. From Sears. Like such the f*cking adults we are!
If I had liked the Snork Jerce, however, it would have looked more like this:
….which is exactly how I looked the day after last Halloween. …and the one before that. …..and every Halloween in college. *sigh*
In other words, with Snake Juice, I would have been your toddler.
So what did we learn?
a) Snake Juice is never a good idea
b) Going to bed at 10:30 PM is always a good idea.
c) You really don’t need the third, standalone, external refrigerator drawer. I mean, honestly, how many times do you need to easily access sheet cakes? You don’t host that many parties, friend.