flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
I can sympathize today. In case you thought I was constantly bitching and moaning about my physical ailments, I’d just like to point out that my neck’s been in spasm all week and this is the first I’ve mentioned it, mostly because my Tiger Balm is making my desk area smell overwhelmingly like cloves and the combination of that and the sort of hung-over feeling you get from not enough sleep and semi-constant pain reminds me of college and is not unlike how I imagine my little owl feels after his binge. For the record, I don’t have a face tattoo or a traffic cone, nor am I wearing a strapless bra (. . . because that would never work. Stupid 40FFs), nor, in fact, did I ever get hung over in college because I was a boring, boring, deeply depressed child who feared drunkenness. I spent time with hung-over people, though.
Oh, did I mention the bra thing? Even if you work in costuming or fashion and you’re totally sure you’re wearing the right size bra, you’re probably wrong. I was. I don’t miss being a 42, but I very much miss thinking I was a DD. Insert sad trombone here for my giant boobs. No,wait, don’t, that doesn’t sound right at all.
I swear I’m not drunk.
PS – I really should add a ‘mocking college students’ tag, since this was an undergrad reference, but my sense of humour has made my tags totally useless anyway, so why bother? Seriously, I dare you – try to navigate using some of the more creative tags. I’ll wait.
Yeah, sorry about that.