I spent hours blob drafting while crying this morning.
Then deleted that crap.
My latest knitting project has proven to be 2.5 skeins-worth of a waste of my efforts this week.
So I started another project I may never complete.
I pointlessly drove with a friend to run her errands as a favor-
to a place that wasn't even open this weekend.
And proceeded to get carsick on route home.
Ms. V- this is your life.
I came home and wanted lie down and chill with my kitty to find that she was already sleeping-
on my pillow.
And still is.
There goes that idea.
Was originally titled "Nyan Cat Timelapse"
but looks more like
"Poptart Space-Cat Fart Rainbow" to me.
So what did I do?
I spent 2 hours, maybe more, investigating nail-art tutorials on YouTube.
I did not do my taxes.
I did not get fresh air or exercise.
I did not even make art.
I watched videos made by fetuses with deep southern drawls on how to marbleize and newspaper-ize and create galaxies on my fucking fingernails.
You know that shit's cool
Even Stephen Hawking fucking agrees with me.
I guess it all started last night, as I was an utter mess before I even woke.
Stupid f'n Baby
Dumb psycho upstairs neighbors were goddamned river-dancing at like 6:45 in the fucking a.m. on my one day to sleep in.
As if that wasn't bad enough, I woke on the verge of a chaotic emo tailspin after a shitty night of dreaming about and subsequently missing Mr. fucking X and the shadow of a sex life I until most recently had.
Seriously. Why do I bother?
Stupid time-period movies- don't watch them, especially before beddy-bye.
Something about the costumes, of which I am a complete sucker for, mixed with the yummy debauchery, of which I am also a complete sucker for- equals my undoing.
That's why I refuse to watch The Tudors.
(Which I know I would love.)
He is hot enough to get burned on. Or under.
And also this morning, I made bad breakfast decisions and fell off my diet wagon.
Remember that 1970's Chuck Wagon commercial?
Well, it looks like another day in da Inferno for moi.
Enjoy your fucking weekends, bitches.