Remember when I asked the President-elect to meet me for coffee? Yeah, well he apparently forgot. Here I am in Dunkin’ Donuts waiting for him, but he was a no show. The closest we got to meeting for coffee was when I noticed his picture as I left. Since he’s likely busy planning for the future I’ll let it slide this time. I, of all people, understand the complexity of redecorating the Oval Office with the perfect shade of pink.
As per my editor’s request, this week’s installment of “That’s What She Said” is my Christmas gift list to Santa. I’m hoping he actually bothers to read it this year, because I’m not above firing the hell out of that old, fat man.
Washington D.C. is everything I thought it would be and more. The best part so far? Realizing that I can blow dry my hair in bed. Vacations fucking rock.
I’m thankful for a brother who is teaching his son how to throw down gang signs while riding around on my little pink scooter. I’m also thankful for the people who didn’t point and laugh at them like I did.
I’m also thankful for the rest of my crazy family. Without them, I’d be sane. And really who wants sanity? I sure as hell don’t!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Enjoy the time spent with your family, also eat pie for me since I’m off sugar and stuck flying today. Please note: I hate pumpkin, cherry and apple pies. I like pecan and berry pies–warmed with vanilla ice cream.
My crazy, OCD friend Kelli drove from San Diego to spend a couple of days with me. I asked her what she wanted to do with her time here and when her list included multiple trips to the gym, cleaning my apartment and math homework I immediately came down with a case of strep throat in hopes to avoid every single item on her list.
I forgot one minor detail: the girl is immune to strep.
Kelli has never had strep throat in her entire life; meanwhile I get it at least once a year. I’m guessing the germs are scared of her. I certainly am.
She still made me do math homework, but instead of a trip to the gym she parked herself next to me on the couch all day while I coughed and whined about not feeling well. She did not, however, do my laundry, organize my shoe closet by color, wash my walls, vaccum my stair, or scrub my bathroom with a toothbrush–so much for using her mental illness to my advantage.
When I was telling RLO my crush had taken me to the Grace Potter concert Saturday night he wasn’t as impressed as he should have been.
Probably because that he had no idea who she was. It could also have been that I may have mentioned that because I wanted to have babies with her hot guitarist I was going to need to borrow his brother for sex.
This request is perfectly logical. RLO’s brother looks exactly like Richie Tenenbaum. The hot guitarist also looks like Richie Tenenbaum so it makes perfect sense that I have babies with RLO’s brother, rather than the guitarist who is on the road too much.
As usual, RLO ignored most of what I said and asked me to play a song for him. I played “Ah Mary” and quoted the first part of the song to him:
She’s skilled at the art of deception and she knows it
She’s got dirty money that she plays with all the time
She waters the garden but maybe she just likes the hoses
She puts herself just a notch above human kind
Ater listening he said, “So do you like her because she’s a good musician, or because she reads your diary?”
RLO is such a bitch, which explains why I absolutely adore him.
