I was pleasantly surprised that this letter was legible as there is a note she posted in the laundry room that's titled "Laundry Room Edicate." Anyway, now this was just beautiful news to me since I am on the 6 floor and have 2 crutches, one leg and a bad attitude. So in a moments panic after I picked myself off the floor and asked God why he hates me so much, I messaged my boss to see if I could work from home this week and thankfully, because he rocks, he made it happen.
* Please note, I know I may seem a little dramatic, but I haven't eaten carbs in 9 days because I'm in a wedding in 5 weeks. Count em 5 weeks. This in turn, makes me one bun-less burger away from becoming a homicidal maniac. I'm telling you, on the night of the wedding, if I don't look like Heidi Klum and wake up with condoms scattered all over my hotel room from casual sex (because my new carb free body is so hot) I'll cut a bitch. I'm not even gonna tell you how many hot dogs I've ingested in the past 48 hours, but it's working. Let's just say my coroners report would read "Death by Juicy Ball Park Jumbos."
So for me, since I worked from home for 4 months, I developed some habits which I may or may not have picked up again...and it's only Monday...
1. Inspect my body for suspicious moles, bumps or hairs. We all do it. But I've kicked my body inspection up a notch since I started watching that new show on TLC called "Abby and Brittany". They are two headed twins with one body. Hey, if it could happen to them, it could happen to me. Maybe the reason why I have a FUPA (Fat Upper Pussy Area) is because I actually have my twin inside me. If you watch enough TLC, this isn't a stretch.
2. Google Neil Lane and Tiffany engagement rings- Well, secrets out. For all my male friends that read this, I have just made myself completely un-referable in the dating community. NO guy recommends a girl to his buddies who has a scrapbook of wedding rings and venues under her bed. Relax boys. All women have a little Sharon Stone in Fatal Attraction in us. We all do it. Even if it's just in our heads.
3. No showering-I think I showered 4 times this summer when I was confined to this hell hole. No one is gonna see me all day so who gives a shit. Unless of course, my friends have secretly wrote the Ellen show about how tragic my life has been and Justin Bieber and Ellen show up to surprise me. THEN I'd be fucked.
4. Listen for noises that would implicate there is a killer in my apartment-I do this all day and I'm aware I talk about this a lot, but I'm still convinced my parents abducted me from really rich famous people when I was a baby. I can't possibly feel this entitled to the finer things in life and come from a middle class family. So if my own parents are abducters...who's to say a stranger isn't secretly lurking in my apartment waiting to chop me up?? Trust me, detectives Benson and Stabler would agree with me on this one.
5. Provided It's a re-run of Family Feud, I listen to 3 carefully selected songs on repeat.
- Call me Maybe-Something about that song makes me want to dance in a field with my shirt off.
- Teach Me How to Dougie-Um, for the obvious reasons, because I'm gangsta, and I believe it's paramount that everyone knows how to Dougie.
- Turning Tables-A song in which I usually fantasize I have just broken up my with my uber famous celebrity boyfriend because he was tired of all the attention I was getting for being so beautiful. But in the end he comes back to me. I'm not saying who it is but it rhymes with Mustin Sheiber.
6. Google STD's. Pfft. This is a given. I started only googling STD's during day light hours. Because let's face it, trying to sleep when you think you have herpes and a rare form of chlamydia is challenging.
Well, I've shared enough weirdness and vulgarity with you for one post. I'm off to search for some Percocet I may have dropped under my the radiator a few months ago.
Peace out,
Nanners
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