flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
I has a sad because I had hoped to be able to plan a trip to Oregon to visit some dear friends this summer and maybe go to Voodoo Donuts and then break a wagon axle and die of typhoid, because there’s my knowledge of Oregon (outside of what I’ve learned from the most scholarly of all research sources, ‘Portlandia’) and could not do so thanks to a combination of jobs and money. I miss my buds and also would like a raspberry-filled, chocolate iced voodoo doll, so someone pack those things up and ship them to Houston, please.
Speaking of hipsters, this one chick at work will NOT stop talking about how the food and biking and art and weather and blah blah blah were better in Austin (while admitting that she hasn’t taken the time to find those things here) and shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, irritating person. You’re why we all hate Austin.
Work was long and contained many fresh horrors today, so I might be extra grumpy. I hate to leave you on a bitchy note so please enjoy the new, totally official, not just a joke in the costume shop at all titles of our two Shakespeare plays: Cleavage and Cooch, and Hillbillies and Hymen (Anthony and Cleopatra, As You Like It). As You Like It’s title is still slightly up in the air — Hillbillies and Hymen is funnier, but Swampfolk and Snatch is more accurate. Scholars of the Bard, rejoice.