The great thing about Grandparents/Boyfree weekend and fucking loving it

Being the baby of the family, in the eyes of my grandparents I will never grow up. I am innocent and pleasant and lovely.
I arrived at their house last night, hungover as fuck, weary from a week of self-induced insomnia. A plush rabbit, chocolates and lemon pie awaited me.

Nanny: Oh, Jennifer, darling- you look tired!!

what I said: Oh Nanny, I'm fine, it was just a long bus ride.

what I thought: 'Insomniac' is my chosen lifestyle of the week. Last night, I got really fucked up and played a show. The night before, I was asked to marry and be the mother of c's children *insert mindfuck here*. In general, I've spent the week drinking heavily, not sleeping and alienating people, while seeking attention from those who treat me badly. It's pretty cool.

Nanny: Oh, hunny, take off your scarf.

what I said: Oh, I'm ok, Nanny. I've got a bit of a chill.

what I thought: No, I can't. I have a hickey from my emotionally-invalid other exboyfriend which he gave me at 5 am (2 hours after he dissed me in front of several people)this morning- after admitting that he thinks his soulmate is another man. It's pretty fuckin cool.

But it's ok. Life's not supposed to make sense.
Favorite thing about this week= post Bearly's. You people ( you know who you are) are the reason that I still have some sanity (Baa daa ba-ba-ba daaaa).

Rural Easter. Cows. Baby cows too. Peepers. Ocean air. I'll stop before Julia gets too jealous.
I found a miu miu top at frenchies (yes!) and then spent the day at my cottage. Peace. No boys. No phone calls. Lots of great food. Sunshine. Absolutely totally loving that I'm not going anywhere or seeing anyone this weekend.