I am Celiac

Okay, first things first, I had a few Cosmos tonight.  You need to know this before you read anything.  Secondly: I lost a follower today!! Maybe the "not all babies are cute and I don't like dogs" really did it's damage.  Who knew?  Have a sense of humour people.

Okay, now down to serious business. I am drunk. Why?  I went to a baby shower and let me tell you, if you've ever not become intoxicated at a baby shower, you haven't lived.  This is probably the first time it's happened to me, but with any luck at all, it won't be the last. 

We didn't play games.  We ate.  We drank.  Stacey opened her gifts and Eskimo Pie donned her jeggings.  Life. is. Good.

Then, things got really serious. Celiac Disease; it's no joke. 

Once upon a time I may have went to party where people spoke about having some bad weed or maybe a rotten acid trip. These days, it's all about the wheat and dairy.  It's criminal the way wheat will fuck a girl up.  The bloating in and of itself...well there are no words.

Celiac, who is actually a friend, a good massage giving, nice girl, "not so bright" (in the words of Sinatra herself; who the fuck is Sinatra? The Divine Bringer of Cosmos...not unlike Mary and her gift of baby Jesus), well she is abused by wheat and the dairy.  So she finger raped a piece of cake tonight for it's frosting. 

I couldn't make this shit up.

Is there a point?  I don't know.  My house smells like cat piss because my fat cat, not to be confused with the mobster,  has taken to urinating outside of the litter box.  It, for the record, is a GIANT RUBBERMAID CONTAINER.  It's not even a regulation size litter box.  What is her deal?

My husband, who is sober and watching Discovery Channel, does not find me nearly as funny as I do.  Weird.

With that said: My name is Angela and I am celiac.  It's been one hour since I last consumed wheat.

No applause people, please; just share your story.