Oh JesusHChrist! Sometimes you are put into situations that you just don't want to be in - like baby groups filled with assholes that pay hard earned cash to have gurus hug their kids (that is a real thing, you can pay someone to hug your kid, and these jerks are the exsact jerks that look down on parents that are not cut from the mold - go figure?).
Tonight, however, it is night clubbing, and not just normal night clubbing, rubbing shoulders with yuppy economic students and art kids who have lawyer parents who live in squats just because it like so totally cool and shit - night clubbing at Amsterdam Dance Weekend - fuck no thanks. To quote Jaime Lannister *swoon* "the things we do for love".
Anyone who is reading this blog may have picked up that I am a awkward piece of trash that doesn't mix well with normal society and the real word - a muthafucking club? Groddy!
So when my significant other suggested that we go do this event as our night out I thought "well shit Sheila this is going to be ruff" - obviously as a woman I just said "fine" and took out my frustration in other bat-shit crazy ways, like when my bike was stolen I basically said that by allowing this to happen he was directly responsible for all the orphans in the world via a route of over spending and throw-away-culture. Women are nuts.
So any ways, here I go off to the clubs to act like a creepy weird in a corner - unless they put on some Bowie - then Imma gonna DANCE, DANCE, DANCE, and I don't know how to dance with my arms below my waist, like any respectable parent.
That is someone thing for the "Mommy blogs" - no one tells you that when you become a parent you lose the ability to dance with your arms below your waits.
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