Today has been the end to quite the odd week. Yesterday I couldn’t really bring myself to write anything funny because my brain was stained with misery. Sometimes I can be funny without thinking about it, but that’s often when I’m not writing. I’m not good at writing comedy. It’s one of the reasons I gave up screenwriting. Sure, I can pump out a gut-wrenching personal essay, but dear God, asking me to write something funny is about as effortless as putting an elephant on an airplane. (Please reference this and this. Believe me, if there are whole movies about elephants on airplanes, it’s not easy.)

I’m not funny. I’m sarcastic and self-deprecating… things that go hand in hand or hand in glove or skull in cap or something. My writing is poor (I often just write as if I’m speaking aloud, so those who actually know me find all of this very charming) so studying writing and literature in college is basically just one big joke in my head. I think the writing I do that requires the most thought is twitter. Seriously. My thoughts are usually more than 140 characters… it’s like micro-fiction but annoying.

Lately I’ve been preparing a piece I’m going to post about my last few months in New York. I embarked on a project (that ended up being wayyyy too expensive) that I thought was either going to make me or break me as a person, and at this point it broke me. I’ve kind of given up on it because I got tired. With my circle of friends, I’ve been quite open about the fact I’ve been doing it, and most are supportive and curious about my experience. Soon it will all be revealed. For now, I’ve decided to give you a few clues:
– it involves free alcohol.
– it involves sex (I’m using this term INCREDIBLY loosely here. Not necessarily the act, but the idea in general.)
– it involves strangers.
I hope that gets your brains ticking enough.

In other news, today I wore this cute little H&M wrap dress I haven’t worn in a million years because I’ve never been much of a dress girl and I can’t even remember why I bought it in the first place. Well I wore it (after repairing a button on the inside and effectively dropping my deodorant on it this morning. cute.) and was complimented by my coworkers, per usual when I wear a skirt. I think the kicker was I wore a dress to distract them from the fact my hair is a hot mess (I think I slept on it weird) but, ugh, per usual, my breasts were more distracting than the dress itself. Well friends, lets just say everyone was really nice to me today, even the women, and a baby at the cafe was fascinated by me. (Yeah, even babies like my tits.)

Somedays I question if I’d have a chance in this world if I didn’t have them. I don’t take these puppies for granted… they’ve gotten me far in the world (oof. but true.) and they’ve also hindered me from participating in golf, tennis, and archery – which I’m actually pretty good at (tennis to) but I look absolutely ridiculous. I’m on the edge of being a 2 sports bra sort of girl. Sigh.

I talk about my tits way too much. Whatever. Like you care.

On a friendlier note, I would like to give a big ol wave to a new acquaintance Anderson Evans who writes a blog that I just discovered this morning and wish I had the time to read more of instead of doing work. The oddest part of the entire thing is that I unexpectedly received a facebook email from him this morning asking if it was actually my blog he was reading. What? I have readers? Who in their right mind… Well Anderson, here’s your big break: all 40 of my daily readers (WHAT? why would you do that to yourself?) will hopefully check you out tonight and laugh as hard as I did at your last few posts. He’s much more articulate than I am, and quite frankly, funnier. In fact, you should probably stop reading my blog and start reading his. I joke. Please don’t stop reading. It makes my day to see my stats rise. I mean… whatever.

To all the other masochists readers, thanks for tuning in. It blows my mind that anyone finds this ish entertaining and it’s always nice to hear from you. Especially when you tell me I’m right. I like being right. It makes me like you when you think I’m right. Because you are right, I am right, so we all get along, right?

Thank the fucking baby Jesus that it’s FRIDAY. I’m working overtime, but that means I get some more hours towards my vacation days at the end of the summer. I am very excited about that. Yes indeedy.

I just wrote a big paragraph about Michael Jackson dying and then I erased it because I was either going to get shot for writing it, or everyone was gonna skip that paragraph. All I really have to say is that James Brown was probably just as influential an entertainer and didn’t get nearly the exiting reception that Mikey got. Sure, he was a bit crazy too, but people weren’t talking shit about him up until the day he died. I’m done talking about it forever now. Seriously. Unless you ask me about my Michael Jackson = Elvis theory, and then I’ll talk your ear off.