While I was down, I renewed my love affair with the show "I didn't know I was pregnant." This show is perfect. It's hilarious AND informative (the last episode I watched the trivia question had something to do with if babies keep their eyes open in the womb... I got it right but it STILL grosses me out). As you know, I've never had a baby - thank god - but I can't imagine that it feels that much like taking a shadoob. Poo pains cannot be on the same level as child birth. They just can't be.
Like I said earlier, I have been super sick and when I'm this sick I just like to sleep through it. That's where NyQuil comes into play. I don't usually like this shiz. It tastes gross and really fucks with my head. One time I took it and I woke up in a chair wearing different clothes than I went to sleep in. It gives me funny/scary dreams and stupid ideas. For instance: I was convinced that I needed to go to South Korea and grow my hair long, long, long, dye it dark brown and cut myself some bangs. Bad idea. Well, South Korea isn't a bad idea but the rest of it is. As for my dreams? The best one I can vaguely remember involved dancing t-rexes and pterodactyls in tutus. I love dinosaurs. The worst one I remember involved me being pregnant. Not ok, brain, not ok.
I live in an adorable little duplex. I've been here since June. I love everything about it. It has hard wood floors and room for a couch - I know. I'm fancy now. I live within walking distance to several fantastic bars (which has proven on more than one occasion to be ridiculous awesome). My land lord, Gar-Bear, is pretty legit. Gar is a little rough around the edges and it makes me laugh - a lot. He's quiet and leaves me alone for the most part. (Sometimes, when I have... ahem... "company" he likes to sit outside on the front porch and shame me with his shit-eating grin. Taking the stride of pride from my own house is quite humorous.) All these great things aside, my fucking washer and dryer are still not hooked up. I wear a lot of clothes. I change at least twice a day. And instead of being able to wash/dry clothes, this is what my stupid washer/dryer are currently being used for:
In case you can't tell there are reusable grocery bags, a toaster, a fan, a pot, a pan and a cooking sheet. While the extra storage has been grand, I'd like a working washer and dryer. Thanks.
It's a Jason Mraz kinda night, ya digggggg?
I live in an adorable little duplex. I've been here since June. I love everything about it. It has hard wood floors and room for a couch - I know. I'm fancy now. I live within walking distance to several fantastic bars (which has proven on more than one occasion to be ridiculous awesome). My land lord, Gar-Bear, is pretty legit. Gar is a little rough around the edges and it makes me laugh - a lot. He's quiet and leaves me alone for the most part. (Sometimes, when I have... ahem... "company" he likes to sit outside on the front porch and shame me with his shit-eating grin. Taking the stride of pride from my own house is quite humorous.) All these great things aside, my fucking washer and dryer are still not hooked up. I wear a lot of clothes. I change at least twice a day. And instead of being able to wash/dry clothes, this is what my stupid washer/dryer are currently being used for:
 |
It's a Jason Mraz kinda night, ya digggggg?
No comments:
Post a Comment