Ho, ho, ho and a bottle of Champagne

That I can't drink, obviously.  Wine is the thing I've missed most while being pregnant.  And God knows there have been days where I desperately needed it.  Wine and not being able to fit in my size 4 pants anymore ::sigh::  I'm not complaining, seriously.  It is kind of exciting that I can't fit in the same pants that I was wearing just last week. 

Anyway, so one of our vendors brought us bottles of champagne today.  It was the best thing that has happened to me at work in the past two weeks, and I can't even enjoy it.  Meh.  Whatever.  I have more important things on my mind today.  Like growing a set of balls.  Seriously.

Last year, our regional manager* let her office staff go home after a half day the day before Christmas Eve.  She called our office and said that everyone could go, except for one person.  So my (ex)friend and I had to choose which one of us would stay and which would go.  We both volunteered, but since it was techinically her property she said she would stay.  I felt so guilty that I stayed for another two hours, then said that I would take this Christmas if we were given the option to go home early again. 

So here we are, a few days before Christmas.  My job situation is quickly deteriorating, and I've lost a friend because of it.  And I'm pretty damn sure that because we are at least on speaking terms, she is going to expect me to stay.  Now since I haven't blogged the long boring story, let's just put it this way- in the four years that I've worked here, I've never been written up or given a bad review.  I've had both in the past two weeks, as well as the demotion and pay cut.  Funny how it all happened right around the time I told them I was pregnant.  But I won't go there for now, since it isn't really relevant to this story.

My initial reaction is "screw you, your raise, and your Christmas plans."  The day of, I will probably hang my head and agree to stay.  Because I am weak, and I am a sucker, and even though I am one hell of a bitch, I just can't be overtly mean to someone.  To which my husband replies:

"Tell that bitch all prior acts and agreements of friendship are null and void after she stabbed you in the back."

I love that man.  And since I know he would give me the sun, moon, and the stars if I wanted, I asked "May I borrow your balls?  Promise I will return them."

Although I gave it up willingly, a glass of champagne would be lovely right now.  And if anyone has any suggestions on what I should do (suck it up and stay, tell her to kiss my ever-widening ass), please feel free to enlighten me!

*Just thought I should mention that my regional is an extremely miserable person.  She is pathetic, really.  The only reason I refrain from calling her a bitch is because that would imply a certain level of intelligence, which I do not believe she is in possession of.  She stays late at work everyday because her husband is a fucktard and they don't like each other.  Oh, and she has no style and bad (as if there were good) 80's hair. 

My husband is lucky to be alive

Because I almost killed him at 12:15 this morning.  We went out with some friends to a Mexican restaurant last night for J's birthday.  Now let me just say, being that it was his birthday I gave him a hell of a lot of slack.  And yes, he hung himself.  Good God.  The beer and tequilla were flowing, and there I sat faking illness because I could not partake in the festivities.  Can I just tell you how much it sucks to be with eight other people who are drinking when you can't?  It sucks.  And my husband is the most obnoxious drunk EVER.

I did not eat at the restaurant.  I didn't want to go in the first place, but I sucked it up and went for his sake.  It wasn't all bad, but I had no intention of sitting there for three hours, which we did.  Then J got more obnoxious when we got home.  He laid down on the living room floor and "went to sleep."  Yes, he passed out.  Thankfully.

Then at 11:30 he decided to get in the bed with me.  After 45 minutes of listening to him snore, I lost it.  I became a screaming banshe.  Yep, I was screaming at this drunk man at 12:15am.  I was so tired, all I wanted was to sleep.  Finally, I grabbed my pillow and went to the guest room. 

Then, I realized I was hungry.  Luckily, there were leftover meatballs in the fridge.  And oh my, they were fantastic.  Just what I needed.  Unfortunately, it wasn't quite so easy to go back to sleep. 

So here I sit today at my desk with a massive headache, still hungry, and exhausted.  My husband is lucky to be alive.

It has taken me this long to recover.

Forrealz.  Spending the night at that campground was the most miserable experience of my life.  Okay, maybe I'm being a leetle overdramatic.  And maybe my miserable experience might have been a touch exaggerated by the fact that I had a couple of vodka treats, stayed up until about 1:00am, and was woken by some kind of God-awful horn at 6:00am.  Awful, I tell ya.  Pictures are coming soon, I promise!

My next adventure was to take place this weekend at Edisto Beach.  Alas, it was not meant to be.  I won't bore you with the details, although I'm sure you would love to hear the dirty saga involving jail, house arrest, and nail-biting drama.  I guess J and I will be spending the weekend at home.  I can't remember the last time I was able to say that.

J is a complete workaholic.  Not in a bad way, but he feels like he has to keep busy around the house all.the.time.  Things certainly are taken care of around there, though!  However, it makes me feel a bit guilty/lazy when I want to relax and enjoy the weekend.  Yes dear, I know these things don't take care of themselves.  At least he has promised me sushi and a movie Saturday night.  Yay!