This is a rather myopic post, brought to you by both the insomnia that plagued me all night, and my inability to constrain my thoughts 140 characters at a time.
Things I Spent Way Too Much Time Thinking About Last Night:
- I have an extra grey hair now. Yes, I spell it grey because I feel like it gives my writing a dash of culture and emphasis and it makes me feel snooty. I refuse to buy handbags that cost enough money to feed a third world country for a month, so let me have this one luxury in my life.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so this morning I’m giving myself the ol’ once over in the mirror while brushing my teeth, and I can’t help but notice a new invader in between all the brown hairs. I immediately shriek and pick up my handy iPhone to text my best friend because hello, who else will understand my misery over such a situation. Normally she doesn’t become full functioning until after 10:00 am, so I was shocked when she replied “Is it a gray hair you already had that’s just especially silver this morning, or are they multiplying?”
I was so proud of her for having such a wonderfully snarky response, I didn’t even bother telling her that girls-like-us don’t spell it “gray”. - Apparently Taylor Swift is mad at Tina Fey and Amy Poehler for mocking her during an awards show about all the boy-toys she dates, and thinks “There’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help each other!” I don’t get it. Doesn’t Taylor pretty much make a living writing songs about all her boyfriends and how they wronged her I-Heart-Lisa-Frank-Kittens-Rainbows-Sprinkles-Aw-Shucks self?
- You know how everyone is always asking Grandma if she remembered to take her medicine? That’s totally me now. Except I’m Grandma. And they’re all out to make sure I take my iron pill. Everything little thing I do is somehow an indication I may have forgotten to take my 65 mg of iron in the morning. Even my boss is in on this. Earlier this week, I was having trouble carrying this huge box of paper someone left in our hallway into the supply closet. My boss rushes over and takes it from me, and looks at me quizzically before asking if I was having trouble because I forgot my iron pill that morning. NO! THE BOX WAS JUST HEAVY AND I WAS WEARING HEELS TRYING TO KEEP MY BALANCE WHILE HOLDING SAID BOX!
While I appreciate that everyone is concerned, I wonder how much it will let me get away with. If I ever murder someone, accidentally start a World War, or regretfully wake up in someone else’s bed and it’s frightfully embarrassing, I’m blaming the iron pill. Or lack thereof. - There are apparently a bunch of rappers wanting to write off their “making-it-rain” strip club spending sprees on their tax returns. My favorite was some guy named Bizzy Bone saying ““I’m giving charity to females who need their light bills paid. So, of course, that’s a write-off. You write off your kids, don’t you?”
While I am ALL ABOUT people having their utility bills caught up, I’m not sure if supporting single moms by throwing dollar bills with questionable juices in the air is quite the same as having a dependent. Which brings me to an even more important question: IF THROWING DOLLAR BILLS AT THE STRIP CLUB MEANS YOU ARE MAKING IT RAIN, DOES THAT MEAN THROWING COINS IN THE AIR MEANS YOU ARE MAKING IT HAIL?
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo, have a good weekend!
