Today totally felt like Friday. Damn.

I'm here. With a small plate of stuffed mushrooms. There wasn't enough cheese on them, so like a failed vegan...:.I added more. Not that I'm dabbling in the veganism at the moment. You know Honey Nut Cheerios aren't vegan, so I fail by 6:30am. Whatevs.

Tonight was glorious at that. I've. had. wine.

And not just any wine. I had wine while Mr. Wookie ...cleaned...the...kitchen. Praise the Lawd.

He's done with his courses. One Master's semester bottled into 2 weeks of procrastinative pain as he wrote a collective 92 pages of bullshit and assignments that will earn him more credits towards that Hood of Masterdom. But that gets me thinking. I want a Master's. I can't be the shlump without one in the house. Not when he wants a second one. Douche. So yes...I want more. But the question lies in, "In what?" I don't know, my friend. I don't know. It has to be useful, applicable to moving around with the Navy (and naturally I hate needles so nursing is out, I hate kids so teaching is out, I don't like non-drinkers, so therapy is out), and not in an overly saturated field. So yeah....

And to correct if I sound like an asspain. I did put effort into the kitchen this week. Each night I chipped away at the lime and rust that encrusted the kitchen in excessive pot and pan dirtiness. But sometimes you need a Mr. Wookie's touch. And sometimes the female of the house just needs to "corrupt" Mr. Wookie's computer speakers with Rihanna, Beyonce, and Nicki Minaj (because you may not know, I'm actually black).

But let's talk about the challenge on our horizon. No, not the one that's involving months at sea, or the new one that's also months at sea (oh yea, lucky us!). It's about Mr. Wookie and his Squadron. There's....a.....challenge that's begun. And it makes me nervous. 6 weeks. of. a weight loss challenge. *gasp* I know, I know - you're thinking 'big deal.' I agree. Although once you learn the terms of the challenge, that's where my protective butthole starts to pucker.

Are you ready for this?

Are you...............?

Losers have to....

...pose in a swimsuit calendar.

Shit. I'm not having my reputation at stake. Bitch is going vegan and juicing for 6 weeks straight. Okay, maybe not. That'd be my forcing him as a Stage Mom to make sure he was pageant ready. Because let's be honest. I'm not ready for him to be humiliated as Mr. July. That's not his cup of tea. And it'd be cute to say I'm the long-time domestic partner of a model...there's something about a Speedo and people purchasing said calendar for their own amusement.

And I gasp.

Gasp I tell you.