Last night I had a dream in which my entire family, even the weirdo Tennesseean outback ones who don’t love me because I think there’s gay bars in Heaven, was in the car with me, and I played my favorite song for them and they all LOVED it. It wasn’t my favorite song in actuality, it was a John Martyn song that I hold pretty dear and I think is a great song, but the point was that my whole family like the song a lot and thought I was awesome for bringing it to their ears. They were all clapping for me and showing their appreciation when the alarm on my phone went off. The phone was on vibrate, and was in a drawer, and was buzzing against something in such a way that did not exactly wake me at first, so in the dream the sound translated as an earthquake. So the dream version of me yelled from the back seat of the car, “Oh COME ON.”
It seems that I am always having these dreams where I’m in a car with my family and there’s some kind of natural disaster but the family member in the driver’s seat simply refuses to drive away from the tornado/acid storm/earthquake epicenter, and the whole family is kind of like, Meh, let’s just wait it out, see what happens. Jeez.
I have the BIGGEST zit today. It’s like a nipple on my chin. I might as well draw a little smile and a pair of sunglasses on it. And it WILL NOT GO AWAY. And it hurts a lot. Good thing the chin strap on the mask for my cupcake costume covers it. I wouldn’t dream of going out and terrorizing Gotham City with a shiner like this on my jaw.
When you order an “Italian Soda” from the menu at this Starbucks/NotStarbucks, they give you a Pepsi in a Starbucks/NotStarbucks cup. I know because I SAW THEM POUR IT OUT OF A PEPSI SODA PUMP. Italian soda, my ass. Really? Really? What are they trying to pull?
I should have ordered a Vanilla Bullshit.
Now that I am a part-time employee, I am no longer eligible for hour-long lunch breaks. I am told that this is the law, but whatever. I have calculated that it takes approximately 17 minutes to order, pay for, and receive food on one’s lunch break, plus or minus two minutes walking time, depending on where you go. This means I end up with 10-13 minutes to slam whatever I’m trying to eat.
I really miss having an adult job, with a desk and an office and an ass load of little green office supplies to make me smile all day long. But mostly I miss being able to decide when I am hungry, where I want to eat, and when I want to come back. I miss being treated like a 27 year old who can handle herself. I will come back to work, trust me. I will be reasonable about my unpaid lunch time. Fer chrissakes.
It’s winter in Chicago still…right now it’s only 62 degrees and overcast, and the only good thing about that is the metal eaves of the sushi restaurant across the street are not reflecting the sun’s rays and fucking blinding me everytime I look up.
Here are some cupcakes:
They are really cute but they look like they are the kind of icing that is really sugary so it hardens all crunchy on top of the cupcake, so you peel it off and throw it out so you don’t get a toothache. What a buzz killington.
Who the hell would post a missed connection like this?! Gosh, I don’t know. Sounds like a crazy bitch.