Remember yesterday when I told you that I woke up in the middle of the night and my thoughts went pingpingchingpongpongpingchingchong? I know that sounded vaguely Asian, and my thoughts did not go Asian. You know what I mean. They pinged around.
All day I was exhaust, as Tallulah would say. I even thought about napping at lunch, but I had to run errands and I saw this ridiculous salon:
June's blog. Come for the complaints about sleeping. Stay for the hilarious '80s band refs. Stay longer for words like "refs."
My point is, exhaust. It was all I could do to drag myself to the store to buy my week's worth of processed food, and then squat in front of the refrigerator eating everything like I was having a 9 1/2 Weeks moment with myself. Eventually, Ned called. He had to work late because his office is preparing for a huge, fancy meeting today, so what we had on the line, there, were two sparkplugs.
"What time is it?" I asked him eventually. "...It's 9:30," he got out, with the enthusiasm of a tree sloth. "Is it socially acceptable now for me to go to bed?" I asked. So I did, and I got all comfy, as comfy as you can get when your 45-pound dog is already spread across both pillows with her stubborn, unyielding, liable-to-go-Pit-on-you-should-you-disturb-her-too-much self. I was just drifting off when
"SON OF A BITCH." I'd forgotten to write that week's Purple Clover. My deadlines are Mondays. So I had to GET UP, go WRITE SOMETHING, then go back to bed. When you read next week's article on migraines, you'll know the mood I was in when I did it.
I don't even remember lying back down, but what I DO remember is WAKING UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AGAIN. With my thoughts going pingpingchingpongpongpingchingchong.
So I'm running late once more, but before I go, in case you're not my Facebook friend, I show you this, of which I am OBSESSED.
Barbie boob necklaces, y'all. HOW COOL IS THAT? The artist makes all kinds of Barbie jewelry, and I LOVE ALL OF IT.
Ned and I were out to dinner Sunday (here he is looking at the menu, for a change)
when I saw on Facebook (because I'd selected what I was eating 26 minutes previous to this shot and was bored) that Faithful Reader Paula had put said Barbie necklace up. I expressed my, you know, delight. "Send it to me," said Ned, and I was all excited that he might get it for me. Then I saw the necklace is
TWO HUNDRED THIRTY DOLLARS.
"Is there a mastectomy Barbie necklace, maybe, that we could get half off?" Ned wondered. I guess Ima have to save my own pennies. I also love that pink oval necklace with the eyeball on her Etsy site. See. This is one of those things I'd have been better off not knowing about, because unnecessary lust.
I must go, and man do I feel fantastic and not at all exhaust, and I have to stop talking like Tallulah. Maybe all day at work I should just communicate in Lu speak. "June, we need this by 10 a.m." "Hooo care?"
P.S. Your my-idea-of-hell comments yesterday were farking hilarious. Laff till exhaust.
P.P.S. Confidential to my Real Houswives intellectual readers. Kyle's screensaver thing freaked me out.