Not gonna happen to me

No need to call the cops, I survived.
I didn't have much of an issue yesterday, especially since I have heard horror stories concerning the de-parasite-ing (what is the correct fucking term for what I did yesterday?!) process.
I should start buying more medications with cartoons on the cover... I'm lookin' at you, gummy (!!) Flintstones vitamins.

Anyway, I went to bed at a freakishly early hour last night, since that's all these pills did to me... got me drowsy.
Once I woke up, I did the usual: checked e-mail and FB.
I noticed one of my high school BFFs had changed her FB status to "engaged."
Punch to my recovering stomach.

Then I find out my old "brother" is not only getting married in December, but he's going to be a dad.
"What a difference a year makes: I went from having nothing to live for, to having every reason to live longer."

I'm seriously turning into Bambi, here.
All my friends are dropping out of the "Not gonna happen to me" line, as I keep walking along clueless.
However, instead of getting my antlers caught in a branch only to be "licked in love" by my other half, in a couple of years I'll go from Bambi to Carrie Bradshaw.
I won't be Carrie in the sense that I'll be a successful writer. Ha! I wish that were my case. I mean it more as in "This bitch ain't ever getting a dude... she's just gonna keep buying ugly shoes!" 
And let's all ignore the part where she ends up with Big... because we all know I'll spend the rest of my life pining away for Big... continuously wishing for Big to "talk to me, please just... notice me!" But we can keep the part where I watch Big get married to a huffy bitch... and shit, let's just add the fact that I'll probably be invited to the whole shebang. Big will be married to a beautiful, arrogant chick while I keep fending off drunk puppy-killers-- the only dudes who will ever find me "beautiful."
A couple a years after that, I'll go from Carrie to The Simpson's Crazy Cat Lady.
I'll probably reek of cat piss... and I'll scream at all the neighborhood kids... but it's ok, because I hate kids.

An inevitable progression.