So we go out to dinner for my aunt’s birthday, and the music at the restaurant has been loud and obnoxious all night, and as we are leaving, “Daft Punk is Playing at My House” comes on, and my mom totally thought it was “(U) Can’t Touch This.”
//copying LP’s tags// #same #i make a great arm rest
if anyone ever meets me irl im actuallly rlly rlly short.
I was really looking forward to hanging out with 2 of my best guys this weekend, but now I think I’m going to have to watch one of them flirt with this girl. Ugh. I think I’m gonna cave and join eHarmony. I have to go on some dates. This is getting ridiculous.
Apparently, my visiting co-worker thought I was married because I wear a ring on my left 4th finger (shut up, I don’t know what it’s called…wait…ring finger). That’s the second time someone’s asked me if I’m married because of that ring. But the thing is, it’s emeralds. It looks nothing like a wedding band. But okay. And I said to the co-worker, “But you wear your wedding rings on your right hand,” thinking of my mother. And then I asked my mom later that night, and she goes, “Yeah, it’s supposed to be your left, but I don’t do what everybody else does.” And now I will take the time to point out that my mother rarely wears her wedding ring or her engagement ring (she wears her mother’s engagement ring, some other ring that my dad gave her, and a ring of her aunt’s), and my dad *lost* his wedding ring years ago, and they’ve been married 42 years, and that’s neat. Tomorrow, we are going to Ellis Island, and I AM PSYCHED. IN YOUR FACE, terrible 8th grade field trip!
Lol at the awesome guy in the cafeteria on 5 informing me that an English muffin is not an ideal platform for a scrambled egg. Happy Friday!
Who has two thumbs and a stupid necklace tan, despite her best efforts?!?!
A year ago today, I altered my appearance/life, all because of an episode of Glee, mind you. Turns out it was a pretty good decision, and a heckuva birthday present. The two things that stick in my mind the most about that day - my father rolling his eyes when I very sweetly asked him if he could buy me the GQ with Mark Sanchez on the cover, and me being really psyched and then very nervous once I got onto the operating table. Luckily, I went right out just as I was getting nervous. Oh, and convincing the anesthesiologist that there was no way that I could possibly be pregnant was kind of funny, too. I haven’t had a Barbra Streisand comparison in a while, so that’s a plus.
Have had The Mountain Goats’ “You or Your Memory” running through my head for the past two days. And the stress is coming out - the stress that remains even though I’ve located it and addressed it. The nagging stress and anxiety. The burning in my shoulder and arm. I suppose it would do me well do find a cheap therapist, but then I just have to *explain* everything again, you know? I don’t want to deal with that. I would guess that I’m just fine 95% of the time, but when that 5% rears its head, it’s not pretty, and I feel like I’m about to lose my mind. So I just don’t know. Also, I am getting super into looking at apartments again, and who knows where I’m going to end up. Well, not Upper West Side, I can tell you that. Also, it’s cute how my parents are psyched about me growing my bangs out. Also, I might be getting a new computer tomorrow, so if that all goes according to plan, I will be quite thrilled indeed.