Princess Daisy wishes everyone a happy Halloween. Me? I hope everyone gets fat from all the candy. This was obviously the wrong time of year to try and cut back on sugar and results in a bitter, mean Sarah. Meaner than usual. Better?
Let there be cake, lots and lots of chocolate cake! Here’s the birthday edition of “That’s What She Said.”
Last night, just as I was walking up the last flight of stairs for my math class, I received a test message from Summer asking if I wanted to play hooky and go the the Jason Mraz concert with her.
I should add that Summer, too, was supposed to be in math class. I should also add that I don’t even listen to Mraz. I only know who he is because one of his song titles has the word pink in it. See, random Google searches for containing the words “pink” and “song” are beneficial!
When she mentioned the tickets were in a suite that would likely be catered I turned around and walked back to my car, leaving my education behind. FOR MUSIC I DON’T EVEN LIKE! No wonder I’m still working on my bachelor’s degree at 32.
When I fail college algebra I only have myself to blame. Well, and Kelli, because she wouldn’t fly out here twice a week and take the damn class for me. What a bitch that girl is.
The best part of the night was not the concert—we left after two songs—but seeing this on the door of the E-Center:
(Insert high pitch squeals here.)
Yesterday I came home from work to find Daisy had a very busy day.
My bedroom floor went from one giant, organized pile of clothing to clothes strewn everywhere. I’ve found when I’m too busy to walk her she naps all day on my clothing. Sounds cute in theory, but a little creepy when you find your bras and panties on the dog bed intertwined with a soggy dog bone.
Apparently when she was done ruining my life she decided to play mama:
Of course it wasn’t intentional, she’s maim anything that got in the way of her food bowl. She gets pretty rambunctious when she plays with her stuffed animals, which must have resulted in the above. I laughed and then took the little bitch for a walk–where I lectured her on the importance of not napping with my underwear.
I have finally discovered the key to productive weekends! The secret is in the list.
I’ve always been a list person. At any given moment you can find at least half a dozen lists in the bottom of my purse (alongside an expired, flavored condom.. which I’m still not entirely sure how it got there).
At the beginning of every weekend I write out my giant ‘to do’ list. Typically I look at the list and find it so intimidating that I choose to take a nap instead. This weekend, however, I decided to add some items to the list that I knew I’d get done. Every once in a while I need to feel that sense of accomplishment when I cross something off the list.
I think everyone would benefit from achievable lists, which is why I’m never writing “clean room” again. I have got to stop setting myself up for failure.
