I was going to post last night, but I had to Xanax up at the kids’ Halloween Hop at school last night and it knocked me out cold. So, sorry. Maybe tonight.
For someone like me, last night’s shindig was truly a house of horrors. Big crowd, full of kids hopped up on sugar, put into costume, coupled with at least two parents or family per kid, plus teachers and staff, all equal the sort of mass confusion that terrifies me to my core.
So there I am in the center of a dark gym, being spun around by whirling costumed dancing/running children, trying desperately to keep at least my daughter in eyesight, trying to inconspiciously unscrew the lid of my Xanax still hidden inside my purse, secretly pull out the tiny pill that will help me from not running into the janitor’s closet and locking myself in, ever so slyly placing said pill into my mouth, all while trying to spit swallow it and praying to God it doesn’t get caught in my throat and I choke and die in front of a bunch of kids dancing to I’m Sexy and I Know It. (Except it’s more like serrrrelaiy and I know it, because they blurb out that offensive part, but alas leaving in the fact that he has “passion in his pants and he ain’t afraid to show it,” thank you DJ for keeping my kids safe from the word sexy).
Anyways, still recovering from that traumatic incident. Problem is, the kids (including Mark) loved it, so I will be forced to return next year, but next year I will come pre-Xanaxed and a maybe a bit tipsy. Is that so wrong? It’s called coping mechanisms people.