So this last week has been pretty Shitty. I’ve been robbed, battled 2-day long migraines that a 1000 mgs of Tylenol every 6 hours couldn’t weaken. My allergies have kicked in and my only savior has been hopping up on Benedryl throughout the day. But it makes me very drowsy and gives me that cobwebs in the brain feeling. Also, I'm still bitter that I never did get my happy ending.

Still, I’ve managed to take solace in the simple things like the Cherokee fiddle and Hellgrammiting with Dad. I am also thrilled beyond words to report that my brother after 20 years finally has a girlfriend, this is great news! Of course this also means that the focus of nosy relatives has shifted back to me and my single status. Even well meaning parents, with their “Now we just have to find YOU someone dear”. At least before while in-between relationships, my brother and I could bare the brunt of the family attacks together. We are dealing with people who married when they were 17 folks!! Look at the divorce rate of your generation. But still, it makes me feel like SHIT.

I just smile and when they ask me “Honey, why are you still single?” My answer is always the same. “Because I haven’t met Mr. Right and I haven’t been willing to settle for Mr. Maybe.” Why is it so hard of a concept to understand that I would rather live alone than live with the wrong person? It always shuts them up but they secretly wonder if I am a lesbian or what in the world may be wrong with me. Aunts and second cousins twice removed make whispers emanating from the kitchen and I can hear them concocting elaborate matchmaking plans with their neighbors, friends, sister who knows JUST the guy for me….only he has brown stained teeth and been married twice before!! Ooooo, sounds like a super Dandy of a catch! I have actually considered hiring a fake boyfriend to attend the next family function just to avoid all of this drama. Like Debra Messing did in the Wedding Date, only to end up with Dermot Mulroney in the end! Bitch. That is how my life should be. But instead, it’s a constant reminder that my Love life is in the Shitter.

I remained optimistic that today would be better. First thing in the am, I jumped out of bed and fired up the old Web Brower, in hopes of finding Pugsley’s Video that I submitted for the Pet Category in the first annual Yammy’s contest as a semi finalist. That would have put me on a high for at least a week. I was so certain that today’s entry would be a “Vote For Pugsley!!” blog. But the top 3 finalists they chose are weak. Okay, the Dancing Pug is cute, but a dog chasing his tail??? C'mon folks, my dog watches Television and follows the plot for God's Sake! Pugsley’s video is SO much better than any of these. It must be fixed. What a load of SHIT!

Now, I am no morning person. Anyone who knows me will tell you that is an understatement. And I have to sleep to the very last possible second of the 4-alarm snooze button. Allowing myself only 40 minutes to walk Pugsley, shower, dress, dry a mop of hair, take vitamins, and grab food for the day. From the time I wake up until the time I pull into work, there is never a spare moment to waste. Everything is very rushed and chaotic.

I try not let the Yammys thing get me down, it’s only Tuesday and I have a long week to go before the holiday weekend where I plan to let loose with some unabashed drinking and hill rolling at our annual Labor Day bash. So I press on, taking Pugsley on our morning walk. Before I can stop him, he gobbles up a load of shit on the lawn. Could be cat shit, could be his own shit, all I know for sure is that he ATE SHIT.

My spirits are starting to dwindle now….but there is no time for lollygagging with the morning routine. Shower, shave, shampoo, condition, deodorant. Nothing fancy or high maintenance. Getting dressed is always the problem. The pants are an easy choice today. A pair of boot cut Levis with black strappy sandals and a black belt, but now I need a shirt to match. I have one in mind; it’s a striped Banana Republic sleeveless number that has a higher neckline. It’s professional but casual too. I haven’t worn it in ages, where the hell could it be? I check the bedroom closet, not there. The gym closet, not there. Back to the bedroom closet. It must be hiding on me. SHIT! I start rifling through hanger after hanger in search of…finally I find it back in the gym closet on the floor. Put it on and it looks great, but it feels like SHIT! I forgot it’s wool and itchy as hell. The high collar is choking me, makes me feel like I can’t breathe. I fling it off and now I’m running back and forth in manic mode topless through the house cursing, "SHIT". Pugsley’s tail uncurls and his ears go back. He knows when I get crazy, it’s best to stay out of my way…plus he is still feeling guilty for eating SHIT.

Nothing else in the closet is going to work and I refuse to switch belts. Finally I find a sleeveless black ribbed Gap top. Perfect. I put it on, adjust to hips. Look in the mirror from side view and SHIT! Noticeable white deodorant stains all the way down the sides of the black ribbing! I tear it off and go running to the spare closet, grab a juicy tee and fuck it, that’s what I’m wearing today…it doesn’t really match but I can’t waste anymore time on the outfit.

Somehow, I get through the blow-drying and miraculously look at the clock and I’m right on schedule. In the kitchen I grab whole-wheat mini bagels toss them into a ziplock baggie. Then, one of the stupid little moments that makes me happy in the morning -- when Pugsley and I both take our vitamins together. It’s sweet. He gets one arthramine tablet for his joints and bones and one vitamin that is supposed to keep him from eating his SHIT. Which obviously doesn’t work but I keep giving them to him anyway. Things are looking up again UNTIL -- I realize that I just swallowed Pugsley’s Pet Tab instead of my Centrum. What’s gonna happen to me now? SHIT!

No time to worry, I’m finally on the road, feeling ok but ever since my CD’s were stolen I’ve only had one thing to listen to over and over. My Urban Cowboy Soundtrack, which, I actually love. But how many times can I listen to Johnny Rosin up his bow and play his fiddle hard? A quick glance in the mirror reveals what the humidity has done to my hair. It’s wild like tumbleweed!! I shouldn’t have wasted time blow-drying after all. SHIT.

There is a work party today and my contribution is a pound of potato salad that I didn’t have time to make so I have to stop off at the store to pick up. I pull up to the grocery, somehow still on time. Lights are on, but they are closed. SHIT. I’ll have to contribute money instead! The party planner at work....I'm pretty sure is a secret member of the Hungarian militia, she's going to kill me. SHIT. On the road again…but hadn’t planned on school starting early this week. For the last 2 months straight I have been on time to work everyday. Why? No school buses. I live an hour away from my job and I have to cross 4 town lines to get there. That means getting stuck behind 4 big orange tanks that basically own the road. After all that SHIT I’m gonna be late for work. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.

The morning madness has ended now and I’ve settled in ready to take whatever shit the day has in store.

I’m suddenly getting an uncontrollable urge to scratch behind my ear with my right foot.

Somebody hold me.