i am disgusting, part 27, or: this should be deleted

i am so tired of feeling like physical shit. why i haven't just fucking offed myself, i know not; insipid optimism, perhaps.
i want to be a normal fun-lovin' gal who drinks moderately and eats cheese and flesh, who doesn't plan her days around loo proximity; who isn't afraid to let someone get too close because that would involve mortifying digestive conversations, not to mention sporadic ms-iness; who doesn't walk around on this gorgeous, hot, saltily muggy friday night feeling like she's going to pass out and shit all over herself; who knows that in an hour she's meeting up with a friend who she once again will be guarded around, not wanting to delve into the whole 'i feel like crap' rigamarole, finding it easier to be aloof and ditzy and wake up in my sunny lair alone with my wheat-free snax and a fresh roll of toilet paper at the ready.
i even pushed my ex-husband away because of this.
maybe i am normal and everyone else in the world has the good sense to keep such things to themselves.
it was absolutely fucking gorgeous today, 80 degrees and cloudless, the sidewalks littered with blossoms. and i spent the majority of it in my unairconditioned car driving to and from and around fucking motherfucking tacoma on my motherfucking day off to attend a motherfucking bullshit staff meeting that lasted all of 40 minutes. 70 miles round-trip, at least an hour each way, killing time in the tacoman wasteland, overdosed and tachycardic from multiple caffeinated beverages, so i could be one of only a handful of employees stupid enough to have not called in 'sick'. i don't know why i fucking bother. sometimes i really hate that place.
i am lonely but i don;t want anyone around. does that make sense? no.
i saw my parents and grandmother yesterday. "do you have a boyfriend?" my grandmother asked eagerly. "ohhh, no" i replied emphatically. "NO?" she said, not hiding her astonishment. i am horrified that she would actually consider that to be a viable notion. "i have absolutely no desire for one" i said, "for once. it is really nice to be unto myself." "but isn't there anyone at work?" she continued, until i finally, with a smile, had to tell her to stop. i am freshly fucking divorced! i am answering to no one! i am an exceptional masturbator! i kept these obvious arguments to myself. she finally shut up, bless her heart. i can envision my family now, gossiping as they are wont: poor brynn, alone in seattle and working too much, the crazy-cat-lady-in-training, though i have merely two- (and why, if they are so hellbent on my not being some bloodshot bepissed spinster, do they all insist on sending me fucking kitty notecards and kitty socks and kitty shitty cutesy crap for xmas?) (i am a fucking ingrate. i am actually wearing cat socks right now. they are chasing fish.) overall the visits were very good, far better than i expected. my folks and i went to a mexican restaurant. 4 beers later my mother was far more jubilant and told a story about a classmate she reconnected with at some reunion. somehow the topic of patchouli came up and he ("being Of That Era" my mother added) said that the smell of it "drove his nuts wild." she said that loudly, cackling, in the middle of the restaurant. "WHAT?" my father exclaimed, aghast. i was too busy laughing.
another benefit of 'normalcy': i could have the recreational drink, as stated above, without following it up with face-planting boorishness, and my mother and i could laugh our asses off together.
is getting buzzed with your mother normal? see, nobody talks about anything anymore.