It's my own fault...

Last night in an effort to get some shut eye and avoid doin it, I made some innocent comment to Pants about waking up early for some action. Of course I didn’t mean it, I don’t get up early for anything. Maybe if Louboutins were going on a one-time 6 a.m. 80% off sale I’d consider it, but even then the sale would have to be like in my basement because otherwise the schlep isn’t worth it that early in the day. It’s not that I don’t love Pants and I think he’s hot and all, it’s just that a girl needs her rest. Well a girl needs to watch “Top Chef” and “The Real World” and then rest. Oh and a girl showers at night… per my earlier comment, I don’t enjoy getting up early so I prepare as much as I possibly can the night before so I’m ready to just pop up and go to work. I even lay out my clothes! And once you are all sparkly clean you don’t want to get sweaty and hot and get your hair frizzed before bed. On a side note, I don’t understand people who wait to shower in the am, how can you get into your bed with all the grime and ickiness from the city all crusted up on you and then lay in your sheets all night like that. It’s freaking gross and that’s where those bed bugs come from I think. Anyway, I digress. So imagine my dismay this am, when a frisky Pants rolls over and throws his arm around my waist at 6:45. Oh no, not having that at all. So I shift and drift off back into dreamland. I’m awoken again at 7, this time he’s rubbing my stomach, I hate that. Of all the places on me to rub – feet, back… why stomach?! It has no pleasure value and just makes me feel fat, and the idea of having to suck in your gut that early in the day is nauseating. The shift doesn’t work this time so I take his hand and remove it. Now of course he’s pissed and turns over in a not nice way. So I lay awake trying to avoid the awful glare of sunshine that comes beaming through my windows directly into my eyeballs pumping me full of UV radiation, thinking why the hell don’t I buy better shades, and wondering what to do to get Pants not to be upset. I fall back asleep. Alarm goes off for my normal morning snooze fest (at least three or four snoozes in 9 minute intervals, till about 8:15 – at which time I jump up totally running late, brush my teeth, apply my face, put on clothes and run out the door) and now Pants officially hates me. I’ll have to think of a way to make it up to him. And I have to go to the gym to work on this stomach thing.