Although it's a national holiday, a day where we all try to blow off body parts and scare the country's dogs half to death, I thought I'd check in. Don't you hate people who say "check in"?
Because I'm not trying to scream this out before work, which I'm always late for anyway, because I have the luxury of time, except for the part where Ned and I have plans and eventually he'll say something indirect (aka Southern) like, "Were we still gonna go to that thing, or...?"
I forgot where I was going with that sentence.
...Oh! Right!! Because I have time, I thought I'd show you all the pictures I have saved up, to blog about "later," and you know how I am about thinking about something tomorrow.
I am often taking photos by accident on my phone, because I forget to turn off the taking-pictures part. I enjoy this one, the Journey Up My Nostril photo. There's a woman whose website I enjoy very much, and she's really very beautiful, but every picture she takes of herself, she's looking off to the side like this. It makes one wonder if she lives in the Land of Periphery or something. It must be her best angle or something. I don't know that this is my best angle. You know what my best angle is? 1989.
I have no idea what's happened here, but this kills me. Ned looks high as a kite. This is probably what it's like to date Matthew McConaughay.
Speaking of drugs, I bought new glasses while I was under the influence. Remember a few weeks ago, when I had that procedure and they gave me Propofol? They said, you may FEEL just fine. But don't go making any life-altering decisions or drive a car or anything for 24 hours. So Ned drove me over to pick up my contacts, and I waltzed in there, tried these on an ordered them, like I'm just MADE of $230, which is what these cost with the lenses and so on.
When they called to tell me my glasses were in, I was all, OHMYGOD, I ordered glasses! and I said to Ned, "Why didn't you STOP me?" and he was all, "Dude, I was in a chair reading Elle. I had no idea what you were up to." Since Ned was an adolescent, he's perused the women's magazines hoping for the occasional exposed breast.
Could you care less about looking at naked men? It does nothing for me, naked men. I would not once consider perusing a magazine to see a naked man. Okay, a naked black man. That I would seek out. But then I'd say, Oooo! and go on with my day. I wouldn't move mountains for it or anything.
Anyway, I had to wait to get them, my new glasses, till the next pay period, and it turns out I kind of like them! So yay. The last new glasses I bought were in 2011, when you all helped me.
Which I just typed as "otherfucker," and that is hilarious to me.
My wrist buzzed me as I walked home that night. SUCCESS. What do you mean, meds?
I have one sports bra left, and it has hair dye all over it. I have no idea why. Probably one weekend I worked out and then did my roots before I took a shower. The point is, I went out in public like this the other night to do that free Fitness by the Fountain that I go to. Anytime I go to it, I think of that dog meme: Fitness whole pizza in my mouth.
The point is, need new sports brassiere. I look insane.
We had the day off yesterday, and on Thursday, we got out of work at 3:30. The Other Copy Editor, fmr., invited a few of us over AT THREE-THIRTY IN THE AFTERNOON. By the time Ned arrived at 5:30, things were definitely out of hand.
Might could be in love with TOCE fmr.'s pugs.
Yesterday, one of the Alexes from work and I drove all the damn-ass way to Charlotte to buy cards. I mean, there is a super-really-cool card store there that also has things like necklaces and coffee mugs and purses and bottle openers and girl things, and I bought some metallic tattoos and 2484393294 greeting cards and Dear Aunt Mary, Maybe your birthday gift.
And then we had lunch. As girls do.
"Wait, why do we need baby gifts?" I asked. Her best friend is having a baby. So we checked out the stuffed animals, and there was a stuffed carrot and a stuffed broccoli. As you do.
Alex held both to her. "Which is better?" she asked, hugging Broccoli. I suggested both, because sensible, but in the end, she got the broccoli. It had big puffy broccoli floret hair, really June hair if you think about it, and a smiley broccoli face.
We zoomed through that store and got each thing on Alex's list, and headed for the checkout. "I kind of feel like we just made Ikea our bitch," she said, loading everything on the conveyor belt.
"Wait. Is Broccoli a GIRL?" she asked. Her friend is having a boy. I guess she was concerned about bringing a woman home to him this soon. Alex stuck her hand under Broccoli's skirt.
"Did you just finger Broccoli?" I asked, scandalized.
I guess I'd better wrap it up with these pictures, as I hear Ned walking around downstairs, and I can FEEL his "Are we still going, or...?" welling up inside him. Have a lovely day of independence from your digits, and I will talk to you tomorrow. -ish.