Since I’m new to WordPress, I decided to sign up for their Blogging 101 class. This is an assignment for that.
I am seriously obsessed with Mah Jong or Tai Pei or whatever you wanna call it. If it involves matching stacks of tiles, I’ve been playing it since 1994. I’ve written plays, research papers and had lightning realization to this game.
Jellybeans to my cognition.
Jellybeans are cocaine to my sugar addiction. They actually hurt in my body and I love Sweetart Jellybeans. All other jellybeans can eat their gelatinous grossness and die. STAT. They are NOT the amazing goodness of the crunch of tart flavor shell filled with mushy pure sugar inside. HOLY SHIT. I cannot buy these things for another year. HOW IN GOD’S NAME WILL I MAKE IT? I am going to be digging around in my purse, looking in my couch cushions and eating them off the floor. I can’t imagine life without a steady supply.
This happens every spring since I discovered them. The sheer panic post Easter of no longer getting my fix.
Like Mah Jong. When I finish this blog I’m gonna play another hour and try to relax.
I hate cooking a big meal for myself. I finally learned how to be single when I learned to make a meal I could eat for days. I barely ate it today. After smelling it while making it for 2 hours, it tasted like cardboard. I’m hoping for better when I reheat my quiche. It shouldn’t take two hours to make it. I need better knife skills. I lived with a pro cook once and she did all the chopping. She was a human food processor, my AndreART.
I miss my food processor, but the roomie owed me money when she left.
I spent the day drinking presecco and St. Germain’s. It was the perfect Easter cocktail. Delightful. Now my head hurts. I better have more water.
I am working on a standup class, but god is it terrifying. Between this and improv, I will never be funny again. I’m so stressed and tense about being funny. Something that comes easy to me when I’m not thinking about it. This is something I’ve wanted since I first saw standup as a terribly young kid in the 80s. I wanna be funny onstage the way fish want to breathe through their gills, and like a fish…I’m out of water these days on a stage. I’m just gasping up there.
I need to relax, or smoke a legally RXed joint, or a massage, or could I just get fucked already? In the positive way, not the “well this shit” way.
Yeah. I really wanna have got aggressive sex followed by some serious play time and maybe coloring in my adult coloring books (read: My Little Pony.).
Because $1 at Target has all the health benefits of $10 on Amazon. WORD.
Also twistable crayons are the bomb.