Tattoo scabs and Laguna Beach depression...

First, let me tell you how I DIDN'T spend my Labor Day weekend...having fun, bbq'ing, traveling, out of town, on a boat. Anything that equaled fun I was not doing. Just for the record. What I was doing was pretty sad, to say the least.

Now, when I got my first tattoo it was a while ago. About 9 years ago. And it was on my back, so I couldn't really see what exactly was going on back there. But I do NOT remember it being this gross...really. Infections and blood poisoning aside, humongous rose-shaped scabs falling off randomly are not in the slightest bit fun. (I never found that one by the way, mom, sorry.) After that fiasco the owner of the tattoo shop tells me to do a “dry heal” and then, when my scabs are all dried up and gone that he will do the touch up for free! Yeah, that’s gonna happen.

So I spent 3 days sitting in my dad's purple recliner (he insists they are maroon and he bought them only because they were on sale much to my mom's dismay. How WILL she decorate around those??) totally not picking my tattoo scabs, I swear, and watched the entire first season of Laguna Beach. I know, I said I wouldn't watch it but after the all day marathon of "The Hills" I just had to know how this started. And boy was I in for a treat! I was in desperate need of some chick-flick therapy and alone-time and what better place than the parents house, in Butt-*bleep* Nowhere with 6, yes I said 6, cats, to do it?

*On a side note, when I arrived at the parents house late Friday night (meaning it's dark outside and when it's dark outside in Apache Junction, it's late) I turn my brights on and warily walk up to the darkened house. I unlock the security gate, then the dead bolt of the door and slowly push it open. And of course, MY stupid bitch fat stretch pants wearing (if she wore pants) cat Lola ran right out of the place. Great. It's darker than shit outside and I have to go and chase around my fat ass cat in the dark. In Apache Junction. Where there is a meth lab one street down.

So I'm cussing and yelling at her fat ass and deep inside praying that I don't get raped over this episode. I finally caught her because, let's face it, she's a fatty. I'm sure my parent’s neighbors (who are like 100 years old and are constantly spying on my parents because I'm sure they have nothing better to do...because they are 100) got an eyeful that night. One of the crazy Childres' kids running around yelling in the middle of the night "Get back here you stupid fat bitch!!!"

So back to sitting in the purple recliner watching Laguna Beach, not picking my scabs (actually you might find that big rose shaped one in that very chair, dad). Now I'm completely invested in these damn rich kid's lives and I know them all by name and I get mad when they talk shit about LC because I really like her.

But it wasn't the fact that they are rich and live fabulous lives at the age of 17/18 that depresses me. Or even the fact that they all went off to these fabulous colleges and attended fabulous parties and went to Cabo for their senior trip. Nope. At the end of the graduation episode all the girls were sitting around drinking Evian or some shit (which, by the way, I don't think tastes any better than Fry's brand distilled water) and they are all talking about where they see themselves in 10 years.

Shit. It's been 10 years for me. I'm almost 10 years out of high school. And I'm divorced and still living in AZ. Oh my god, panic attack. I suck, my life is worthless, I've amounted to nothing, I'm a hack, a loser...etc. You get the point. I thought back to when I graduated high school and what my dreams were and where I thought I'd be and then I found myself in a deep depression and driving to McDonald's to get a damn hot fudge sundae. Seriously. I did that.

After the ice cream, I calmed down a little and realized that my life isn't that bad. It doesn't exactly suck. Then the tiniest thought crept upon me for a split second that maybe I should just stop watching shows about rich high school kids and being jealous of them? No, why would I do that? It's my vice. That's why I love Netflix. Every 2 days a new red envelope comes and no one knows what is really inside. Looks innocent enough. No one has to know it's the second season of Laguna Beach, the third season of Dawson's Creek and the 7th season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (don't judge me).

And I'm sorry I outed my dad's purple recliners here on my blog. But he had to know the truth.