… which happens because I am a “beauty insider” living at this particular address, I feel what I think the aliens will feel once they discover our planetary remains. Nausea, complete confusion, indigestion, pity, sadness, etc.
Let’s see if my brain can rally and get back to being only half crazy, shall we?
The thing with becoming a part-time hawker-of-all-the-shit-I-make that I have a hard time doing is the self-promotion. I really hate talking up my stuff. I feel like I’m intruding. Like people get annoyed by the constant reminders of my existence. This is the precisely the reason why I have such reservations about ever pursuing a career in advertising or promotions or marketing. I don’t want to be a nuisance. Except … I totally want people…
Seems like every time I sit down to write lately, nothing comes out, and the only stuff that bubbles up in my head is bad, very bad. Work is a nightmare lately. I come home every night feeling completely deflated and exhausted. I take a few minutes to myself beside the closet or in the bathroom to sob my helpless little stress sobs but I suck it up quick before the other half notices what…
I’m up too late. It’s cold in this house. It’s almost Christmas. I go on vacation in less than a week. Roadtrip, whee! The fella is almost done with his finals, and I think I’m more excited about that than he is. I want to get in a car with him and just drive and drive and see where we land. We’re doing the next best thing, I suppose, by getting in a car and…
… is changing a tampon while watching an episode of “Dexter.”
If you know my boss and her husband, you might look at these pictures and wonder who took the shrink ray to them and turned them into tiny little people. It’s a natural assumption to make, but these are actually their children. Their little tiny child clones of themselves. Science! We romped around a few weeks ago in the Botanic Gardens and I pointed a camera at them a lot and a merry time was…
I meant to write about this when it happened because I was PISSSSSSED and then life got in the way and what can you do. But I need to write about it because it was so egregiously bad that Nick Fowler was even like, man, that was bad. I went to the Mail Center on Madison in Midtown to ship a couple of things I’d sold on Etsy, including a 12×18 photo print that I…
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