Who Let The Freaks Out?

That's the first thing I heard when we entered the lone bar in Smallville. I was a little offended that the toothless man who lives on barstool #3 was calling ME a freak, but I was drunk and moved on. I had a blast! The costumes were hilarious. Mandy wore this battery-operated, inflatable ballerina costume. It was HILARIOUS! Melissa was a red-neck muscle man named Buck. She wore this awful padded torso that was supposed to make her look like she had muscles. She was clad in the cut-off wife-beater complete with the iron-on transfer reading "Muffdivers Class of '69" and a sweat band around her mullet wig that said "I Heart Pussy." She walked around introducing herself to everyone by saying, "Hi! My name's Buck and I'm here to fuck." You don't know how funny it was. Of course we had my costume, my sister: the pimp, my other sister: Stick man drawing, my other sister: French maid from Mardis Gras (don't ask...it just means she wore some green and purple beads and garters), Martha Stewart: incarcerated, a tap-dancing bumble bee, a slutty nun, a pregnant nun, 80's white trash girlfriend of Buck, a wizard, Jamaican bum (perpetually high), a witch and a beauty queen.
The karaoke was a good time. The strangest thing...my husband was the biggest slut in the bar last night and that's saying alot considering some of the friends I have. I wish I was pissed about it, but I'm not. I've settled into the apathetic marriage-mode. As long as he keeps paying the bills until I have my degree, I'll just deal with it then. This is quite a new feeling for me. I mean, I've never really been the jealous type but this is beyond just not being jealous. I'll have to let it float around in my head for a few days before I begin the introspective analysis.
My mother wants to keep the baby again tonight so I'm thinking maybe another night of drinking. I can't really decide. Maybe I'll go solo tonight.