my pimple grew a face and other catastrophic events.

Guess what gross doodah was waiting for me the minute I stumbled into the bathroom this morning. No, douche-face, it wasn't anything in my toilet bowl. Neither was it in my shower drain. The revolting entity (for lack of a better word to call it) was ON MY FACE. On my chin, to be exact. Apparently, my pimple grew a face while I sleeping. You heard me right. My pimple grew a face. I would say my face grew a pimple if not for the fact that said pimple was so huge. . . so ginormous. . . so gargantuan that it puts the size of Mount Everest to shame. True story. Yes, I tried picking at it. I tried popping it. I tried squeezing it. I tried pinching it. I tried putting acne cream and using acne soap on it. I literally tried everything. And oh my gawd, IT'S STILL THERE. Gah.

Yeah, my sentiments exactly.

After an hour or so, I finally gave up on my pimple eradication mission and went downstairs to eat breakfast with my battle-scarred face in tow. As I devoured my bowl of cereal, I noticed Madear walking around the house and muttering to herself. Uh oh. This was never a good sign. I decided to pretend I couldn't hear her because I wanted to enjoy my food in peace. It was only 8 in the morning, and muttering wasn't allowed until around 10 am. That was a house rule as far as I was concerned. When I finally couldn't stand it anymore, I sighed loudly and asked her what she was doing. It appears that my mother dear took it upon herself to count the number of dead lightbulbs around the house and so far, she's found 7. Huh. Okaaaaay. I shrugged my shoulders and continued eating my cereal without saying anything. But of course, Madear just stood there. Silent. And waiting. Because she knew how to impose a massive guilt trip. And because she knew this would bug me. Ugggh. Okay fine, Ma. You win. Guess I'm going to Home Depot today. I just really don't get why we have to change bulbs in the first place. . .

Yep, this is me changing a bulb. Except it's a guy.

After eating, I decided to walk (read: drag my feet) towards the mailbox to check if the postman left any important letters for me. All I found in it were junk mail and the water bill. Pffft. I went back inside, tore open the letter from the water company . . . and almost had a stroke. My freaking water bill was $852.00! EIGHT HUNDRED. FIFTY-TWO. DOLLARS. Holy sh*t!  After I stopped hyperventilating and my blood pressure came close enough to normal, I peeked at the piece of paper in my hand again. Yep, still 8-5-2. Crap. I decided then that I needed to yell at talk to someone about the water problem so I called the water company. I asked the unfortunate person at the other end of the line nicely how it was possible for my water bill to be so high when I wasn't even here during November and December. She shrugged (yes, I heard her shrug over the phone) and said she would send someone to my house to check for leaks. That's right, lady. Go send someone. I'll prove you all wrong. *insert evil laugh* As soon as I put the phone down, I started thinking. Maybe I had ghosts in my house who liked plants so much they just had to water them every 2 hours. Or maybe aliens landed on Earth and they decided to wash the clothes of every single being from their home planet using my washing machine. Or maybe a bunch of guys broke into my house when I was gone and decided to have a communal bath in my tub every freaking day. I mean, what other explanation is there for my crazy bill, right?

Since Madear got so upset about the exorbitant water bill, I decided to do something nice for her. You see, my mom doesn't live with me but she does visit every few months. Thing is, when she's not here, her van sits on my driveway unused. Usually for months at a time because I don't like using it. Mainly because it runs like crap. Don't tell that to Madear, though. She'll give you the stink eye. And because I forget to restart it once in a while like I'm supposed to, it's really not surprising that dead battery is a recurring problem of said van. Anyhoo, I finally called AAA this morning and when the guy inspected the engine, he informed me that it wasn't a battery problem. It was either a wiring problem or an alternator problem (whatever that is). Oh, and he also told me it was a snail and critter problem. Um, excuse me??? Did you just say SNAIL and CRITTER problem? WTF?! Because I sounded incredulous (or maybe just to annoy me gross me out ), he showed me the settlement of snails that have taken residence on top of the engine. Yuck. I didn't even want to know how he knew there were critters inside. Ugggggh. So, he ended up towing the van to the dealer, and now I have to wait for the verdict. Stupid snails giving me something else to fret about.

I don't care if you're stylish. Just keep away from the mommy van. I'm not kidding.

So, that's how my morning went today. I was so annoyed disgusted bothered frustrated, I decided to spend the rest of the day looking for the solution to my problems. And find the perfect solution, I did! First, I went out and got a manicure-pedicure. Then an eyebrow wax. And lastly, a foot scrub and massage. All my problems seemed to magically disappear after that. After all, there is absolutely no problem in this world, no matter how big, that a girly day can't fix. Except maybe a gargantuan pimple on the chin because nothing can fix that. Obviously.

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