Yesterday I worked 20 hours STRAIGHT and with his crazy miracle working skills, he enabled me to not only wake up on time for my "regular job" but somehow, I'm still forming sentences.
And for the most part they're all English.
The last 9.5 hours were the most grueling 9.5 hours, like, ever.
I didn't even have time to drink water.
Or pee.
Or breathe.
Last night was inmotherfuckingsane.
And somehow I managed to wake up at 7:30, after 3 hours of sleep, and make it into work by 8am.
I probably would have promised someone my first born child in order to stay in bed and get the sleep that's so much needed right now.
I've got this weird thing though, with my "regular job", which really, should be called my career, but I've convinced myself that I'm not old enough to have a career, because that's like, completely grown up-ish and old, but I've been here like, 7 years, and I still totally love it, and I passed all my big girl tests in a hell bent effort to advance my education and become more of an asset to my company and OH MY GOD, I'M SO TALKING GROWN UP!
Icky.
Anyway, as I was saying, I've got this weird thing with my "regular job" about not letting my bar tending interfere in any sort of way because, this "regular job" I speak of, is my career, and it totally takes priority over a part time bar gig.
So, as dirty as my figurative balls may get from dragging in the dirt, HARDCORE, I can't ever bring myself to call in sick because I have to prove to myself that I can totally handle everything I've so stupidly piled on my plate.
And that, people, brings me to NOW. I'm here. Working. *cough* diligently.
I was even on time and had my hair done.
I threw a glittery headband on the top of my noggin because:
A.) Obnoxious glitter sparkling a-top my head distracts from the blood shot, droopy eyes.
2.) It also distracts from my dry, peeling face. Like I've said, sleep makes people pretty and skinny and I ain't gettin none of it, homies.
C.) Glitter camouflages the beer that's still in my hair from last night.
4.) Glitter looks fun. Fun equals refreshing. Refreshing equals ready to fucking rock and roll.
And ready to fucking rock and roll just permeates professionalism and awesomeness.
I've ingested an entire pot of coffee and I'm limping all over the office, but damn it, I'm here. In a totally fake good mood because I have priorities people!
My lower extremity's feel like they've been bludgeoned.Like that scene in Misery where Kathy Bates takes a sledge hammer to James Caan's feet.
Ew. I know. It makes you cringe to replay that scene. But sadly, that's exactly how I feel.
I've done some hard core workouts in my day. I've ran many-a-miles and I'm here to tell you that nothing, no, NOTHING, physically beats your ass into a bloody motherfucking pulp worse than bar tending.
Don't roll your eyes at me in doubt! It's TRUE.
I'm not a whiner, and most the time I play like a champion, but I'm one whiney, angry, hurty, crying, stabby bitch after bar tending.
A few things have made this day delightful despite my lack of REM cycles.
1. I got my five new lip glosses in the mail today. I'm sure you're all dying to know, so the flavors are as follows. (In no particular order because I love all my little preciouses just the same)
- Lemon drop.
- Taffy go lucky.
- Twisted citrus.
- Bananas. (This shit is bananas. b-a-n-a-n-a-s. Couldn't resist)
- Slice of heaven.
How can you NOT buy something called a slice of heaven!? Honestly.
HAVE YOU NO SOUL!?
To my suprise I didn't have ANY of these flavors. Out of all 2.7 million lipglosses I own, none were even remotely close to my new little treasures.
Lemon drop reminded me of the most fragrant shots that I make at the bar. They look like sunshine and smell like bunnies. Or fresh lemons.
Whatever.
Taffy go lucky sounded delectable. And sticky.
Twisted citrus reminded me of twisted sister and who doesn't want some twisted sister in, on or around your lips!?
I WANNA ROCK!
Bananas makes me think of Gwen Stefani, gorillas and potassium.
Last, but certainly not least, A slice of heaven. Need I say more?
Good job naming your lipglosses, Victorias Secret.
You black demon, marketing assholes.
The ups man ALSO brought me a white and orange hoodie from Vs that says "Beavers" all down the back. And get this, the lettering is velvet. So, technically.... That would be.... Furry Beavers. Which, lets just be honest here folks, that's fucking comedy.
If you can't understand why that's comedy then you must have lived under a rock for quite some time.
Hopefully ya'll know the movie Misery too... Otherwise, It may just seem like some crazy-coffee-cracked out-sleep-deprived-no-sense-makin-furry-beaver-hoodie-wearin-lipgloss-addict just posted a blog about entirely nothing really.
That's odd.....
Gnight.
