It’s been a weird week. First there was the CNN thing, then I saw this on Twitter:
Are you there, Judy? It’s me, Banshee
So THAT was totally rad. Also, I might have mentioned once or twice or seven billion times that I have a new bathroom.
the cat lives in the sink now. I don’t ask questions. I just brush my teeth in the kitchen.
And I went to Sunday night dinner at the parents’ house, during which a political argument broke out. This is nothing new, as my brother and I lean WAY to the left, and my parents lean WAY to the right, and let’s just say that as my brother was rattling off “facts” and “statistics” I was giggling like a maniac and shrieking “I HAVE A MAGIC VAGINA!” Then my dad said something about magic vaginas and Taylor Ham, and it’s really for the best that we don’t get into the specifics of that.
Let’s move on. Quickly.
Also, a bird pooped on my arm, which I am told is good luck. I found it rather rude, but I’ll take the good luck, especially if it manifests in the form of a suitcase full of diamonds being delivered in the mail tomorrow alongside the flyer for events at the YMCA.
My schedule is changing up as of this week, so I have Monday free. I could do any number of things, namely this:
Hi! Do my DVD, Fatty McPlumperson!
But I don’t know if I will have the willpower to do this DVD, even though the lady looks MUCH nicer than Jillian Michaels, and will probably not scream at me the whole time like I’m in Full Metal Jacket boot camp. I am concerned about my motivation because I have to go run errands tomorrow, and those errands happen to involve going to Walmart.
WALMART. Scourge of the world. The place where dreams die. Turn away, fool-hearty knave, for you shall never survive the dreaded aisles of the worst store in the universe, even worse than the run-down Dollar Store on the fifth moon of Uranus.
NOTE: I have no idea if there is a fifth moon of Uranus. Please do not email me about it. I don’t care.
So yeah, I have to go to Walmart. I even have a list! See?
Hi, I have the handwriting of a 2nd grader
A list! How responsible of me! It’s vital that I have a list, because the minute I walk through the doors of Walmart, my brain shrivels to the size of a raisin and sometimes I cry. If I didn’t have the list, I would forget EVERYTHING I had to get, and would sadly wander the aisles, sucking my thumb and asking random people “Why am I here?” So of course we all know what’s going to happen tomorrow. I will go to Walmart, smug in knowing that I have a LIST with ITEMS like a SQUEEGEE and as I push my cart into the labyrinth of Back To School supplies and muumuus, I will realize that I have left the list at home. Because of course I will.
If you don’t hear from me in a few days, assume I’m sitting in the middle of the auto parts aisle of Walmart, crying and eating pudding cups. Send a St.Bernard. Or a sherpa.