Beach Day.

 

Fig A: Happy Susan frolics

Last weekend for the first time this entire summer I finally had the time and opportunity to spend a day at le beach.

 
Fig B: Observe as this wild Susan prances and splashes about in what looks to be some type of savage ritual dance. Extraordinary!

It was only after the entire day of gaiety and merriment had come to a close that I found that I had gotten completely sunburned on just one single patch of skin… my upper back.

Scumbag Sun: Makes you happy to gain your trust, 
burns you in the back when you least expect it.

Unfortunately for me, J would not be home for a week and thus the one patch of skin I burned expressly because I couldn’t reach to apply sunscreen on... I now couldn’t reach to put lotion on.

Fig D: Oh how it itches how it burns.

I did the best I could short of dislocating both shoulders and went to bed feeling sad and lonely that not a single helpful hand could be found to lotion my well-done upper back. Never have I ever missed J so very much as then. 

The Adventures of Susan and J: Suitcase

Once upon a time (read: two weeks ago) Susan and J were in Wilmore, Kentucky outside their hotel waiting for cars to arrive so they could load up their bags and head off on the eight hour drive to Chicago.

While Susan was just standing there zoned out and sapped of energy from lack of sleep and good ol' midwestern heat, J’s eyes were a-roamin around looking for some fun to be had, and lit up when theys chanced upon susan’s hapless little carry-on-sized swiss military brand suitcase.

She immediately hopped on

What would possess a perfectly sane 27 year old adult to do this the world will never know.

..and ordered our friend K to cart her around.

Susan begged and pleaded for her suitcase’s life (“dude, ride on someone else’s, not mine”) but the evil queen J would have none of it. A suitcase would die today and that suitcase was Susan’s, and no power of Swiss Military (brand) construction could assuage her thirst for suitcase blood or deter her from the path of imminent destruction.

And sure enough:

“Off with his head!”

The End.

Watermelon Juice.

Fig A. Watermelon juice

Offer me a sip and in return I will look upon you with this exact expression of UTTER DISDAIN AT YOU AND ALL YOUR WATERMELON-JUICE-SUCKING KIND.

Why anyone would choose to horribly and violently pulverize perfectly good morsels of watermelon in a blender instead of just eating it in its purest form and letting the sweet sweet juices glide down your throat as you masticate upon this heavenly gift bestowed upon humans from God Himself just CONFOUNDS me!!!!!!!!!!!

One does not DRINK watermelon through a STRAW in a CUP, one EATS watermelon!!!!!! *shakes fist* 

Homecoming.

I just got back from an eight-day trip to Kentucky/Illinois and had all but dragged my incredibly exhausted self into my big cushy office chair when one of our sales guys popped by to greet me...



...with some news.


NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE

Watching Brave.

WILL. NOT. CRY.

I absolutely HATE crying during movies in the presence of other people. I have always found it to be extremely horrifically embarrassing to do so, and will MAKE SURE AT ALL COSTS that all liquids STAY in my tear ducts (or at least within the rims of my eye sockets) and NOT leak out onto my face for all the world to see. When watching movies with other people I refrain even from touching my face with my hands, lest they see out of the corner of their eyes and think that I am crying, which I most definitely AM NOT, SIR.

When I’m watching a movie in the safety and privacy of my lonesome, however, it is a completely different story.

Interestingly enough, this abject hatred of crying in public only applies to movie watching, and I would feel no qualms about crying like a normal person if one were to break my car my face or my heart (in no particular order of importance).

Confessions of a closet movie-crybaby.

Fan.

Hey hey hey! Don't ever get down in the dumps about yourself or your abilities!  Remind yourself that you are beautiful (/handsome), smart, snazzy, awesome! 

Always be your own number one fan :)

Airport Van.

Five minutes to the airport

In my wallet in my purse on my lap in the airport van en route to the airport is exactly $0 of cash with which to tip the driver.

I had hoped upon hoped whilst waiting for the van’s arrival in the hotel lobby that the driver would be an irritating jerk or at least my horrible first grade teacher Mr. Burns so I wouldn’t feel as bad about not tipping. Alas, when the van arrived, out popped THE most courteous, friendly, polite driver (CFPD) man ever.

Four minutes to the airport

The CFPD man makes a little friendly small talk but never too much as to become annoying or overbearing. The music in the van is loud enough that the van is not awkwardly silent, yet quiet enough not to get on anyone’s nerves or disturb conversation.

Three minutes to the airport

The CFPD man cheerfully asks if anybody in the van would like some water, after which he doles out some cold bottles from a little icebox between the two front seats.

JUST KILL ME WITH KINDNESS WHY DON'T YOU.

One minute to the airport 

MARRIOT HOTEL Y U HIRE SUCH CFPD VAN DRIVERS 

CFPD MAN Y U SO CFPD 

WALLET Y U NO HAVE CASH