June 2012
Things that make me anxious & awkward, #492: Going to a new restaurant and not knowing how it works.
Case in point: I hadn’t been to an Au Bon Pain in years, so when I went for lunch today, I spent five minutes wandering around like a helpless wildebeest, whimpering “where is the menu? How do I eat?!” When I finally went to the checkout with a salad, the lady said “you forgot your dressing” and I think my tiny brain just about popped.
The scene where Lord Varys is talking to Tyrion Lannister.
- Krista: Oh my God, they're best friends.
- Me: I hope they get friendship bracelets that say "BFF."
- Krista: Best Bros Forever.
- Me: They're not bros, they're... Westerbros.
- Krista: You're going to put that on the Internet, aren't you?
Watching the end of the season finale of Game of Thrones.
- Krista: Sam, stop hiding behind that rock.
- Me: He is pretending to be a rock so that they don't see him.
- Krista: You're not a rock, Sam.
- Me: *to the tune of "Roxanne* ROOOOOCK-SAM!
- Krista: You ruin everything.
- Me: ROOOOCK-SAM!
In which I realize on Monday morning that I have almost every symptom of a concussion
and that that would have been a much better excuse for coming to work 45 minutes late than “my alarm didn’t go off ack.”
Ahh and oww and ahh
I spent about three hours yesterday cleaning the apartment, including one hour for every nook and cranny of the bathroom, and in doing so I (gracefully) banged my head twice - once on each side, on the top side of my forehead at my hairline, basically where my horns would be if I were Satan. It didn’t bother me at all yesterday, save for the “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST OW” moments, but today it hurts like a motherfucker.
In other words, I shall not be moving from this bed, not ever, ever again.
I have made myself ill on Belgian chocolate.
If this is what kills me, I literally cannot think of a better way to go.
May 2012
I couldn't decide if I wanted tickets for Conan Writers Live or John Oliver's stand-up
so I got both.
Massive garage sale in North Center this weekend, Rib Fest next weekend, 2 comedy shows the next, then some weird bitches getting married. I love you, June. I miss you, money.
