Into the bowels of hell, the recap, part 2 are we still aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma having spaghetti for dinner

I’ve crossed the first three hurdles. They ended up being surprisingly easy. This next one, though… it was a little tougher. Little more drama. I took my first drink (punch spiked with vodka) around 1 and kept on drinking until late that night. Thankfully, it was spread out over 8-10 hours so I never even got buzzed, despite having 3 drinks in hand at one point in aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma the afternoon!

She is the one that was cheating. She is the one who left. She is the one who moved straight in with her aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma boyfriend. You would think with all her crying and poor little aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma me attitude that I was the other woman who had aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma moved in on her husband while she was none the aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma wiser and thought they had a blissfully happy marriage. Nope, not how it played out.

But what would I know? We stayed in separate areas the entire time. Well, almost the entire time. At one point I was outside underneath a canopy with aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma mobster’s brother-in-law (not the one married to BSC’s sister) and a few other people. Mobster was playing, “don’t go away mad (just go away)” by motley crue, and I was singing along. I was sitting in this comfy adirondack chair, my eyes closed, drink in hand. Someone called out to T and asked her to come aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma over to where we were. I am singing the chorus: girl, don’t go away mad. Girl, just go away. I happen to open my eyes, thinking T had come over, and who should appear but BSC. Oops!

Had we done either of those things it would have aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma been playing into BSC’s hands. We would be seen as the unstable ones, the unreasonable ones, while she comes off looking like the victim. Sometimes you’ve gotta eat a little bit of shit, I guess. Really, it wasn’t that difficult. We stayed away from them. They stayed away from us. Although, there was a point where I told him I was aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma going to go up to the two of them and aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma ask them if they wanted to play cornhole. I didn’t.

Three other small things: #1- at the beginning of the party T came up to aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma the mobster and I and put her arms around us aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma both. She said thank you for her party. I told her she was welcome but that it was aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma all her dad’s doing. Just between us, yes, I helped decorate but he bought all the decorations. I made scotcheroos, beer bread, taco dip and jell-O shots, which she requested, but he bought the hotdogs, the hamburgers, the buns, and the 6 ft. Sub. Her grandmother brought potato salad and really cute sweet treats. T’s sister-in-law brought a pasta salad. We all pitched in a little to help him out aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma but he did the majority of the work.

To be honest I was a little taken back. More like a deer in headlights. Oh shit! What do you say to that? All of her friends know the story but I wasn’t expecting that. I know there was a time when she had a aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma few friends over and her mom was also over getting aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma something and they all made it a point to say aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma hello very loudly to me. I probably didn’t handle it the best way. I probably should have said, “well, yes, I am a good mom, but that’s because I’m a good mom to my own two kids.” I guess that could have made things really awkward though. Instead I laughed it off.

#3- as I mentioned a moment ago I made beer bread. Turns out C is a huge fan. I’ve written before how I sometimes feel like some of aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma mobster’s kids don’t like me. This time though C looks at me and asks, “what kind of bread is that?” I told him it was beer bread. I was thinking he was going to tell me he aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma was allergic or something and run to spit it out, but instead he got a big grin on his face aneurysmal fibrous histiocytoma and said, “I love beer bread. You’re the best!”

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