Monday tried to eat my soul. As such I spent last night curled into a fetal position and was unable to blog. Why does Monday hate me so much? Perhaps I killed it's puppy? I am going to bake it some cookies in hopes it simmers the fuck down and backs up. That or drink. One of the two.
- This weekend I had my class improv show. Before the show we had a last minute rehearsal. Being as LA was temporarily relocated to the surface of the sun I wore a low cut tank top and flip flops, thinking I would have time to run home before the show and throw on something more improv friendly. I did not. This of course meant that 2 of the scenes involved me crawling around on the floor like a cat (seriously. not joking) and literally willing my boobs to stay in place. I came about one deep breath away from fully flashing 100 strangers. It was awkward.
- On Friday I had what was quite possibly one of the worst dates in recorded history. Apparently having not been on a first date in many, many moons, I forgot just how bad they could be. It lasted 37 minutes. Those were the longest 37 minutes of my life. That period of time consisted of me asking him questions and receiving one word answers and then listening to a 20 minute rant about how much he hates his life and coworkers. Good times people, GOOD FUCKING TIMES. However, I am still all proud of myself for being back 'out there', as the kids say.
- I apparently can now just will things to happen. Such as keeping boobs in place by the power of my brain. I proved this on Friday as well by willing a coworker to bring me a beer. AND HE DID. I am now attempting to will my ass into a size 4 pair of pants and also for free tickets to Greece. I'll let you know how that goes.