Another day, another dollar, kids. My life as a barefoot, carefree, wind in my hair Malibu-an was not to be. Georgia Power called and said, “Bitch, don’t try us.”
Also, in a moment of profound insanity, I promised my friend’s kids (ten and eleven) that I would take them to Six Flags (among other idiotic promises I can’t believe I made) on their spring break, which started on Saturday. Although I am the queen of canceling plans, there’s no way I could or would do that to children. If you’ve ever been a disappointed kid, you know how it feels. So I took the little jerks to Six Flags, and it wasn’t as heinous as I thought it was going to be. The lines weren’t that long and the kids were funny enough and the weather was pretty pleasant. Aside from spending a bazillion dollars on hamburgers, it was a fun day.
On Sunday I steam-cleaned my floors to prepare for my upcoming move, and I was able to coax them into a little child labor in exchange for some ice cream and Ariana Grande. This magical combo doesn’t just work on kids, though. I’m also highly likely to do most things if Rocky Road and Ariana Grande are involved. Tomorrow, I promised to take them swimming at Chastain Park, and I just… I don’t remember why I made these promises! Was I drunk?! In a really optimistic mood?! I think because when I made them April seemed so far away that it was almost in the abstract. Well, April’s here and it’s time for me to pay up, I guess. It’s really not that bad except for the initial realization that I have to get out of bed and put on pants on my day off. Everything else after that is a breeze. But public pools? God help me.
Okay, I’ve gotta get back to work. Much to my chagrin, electricity ain’t free.
You know those scooters that everyone either really loves or really hates? I finally got around to trying them. On the street–not the sidewalk. It was…terrifying. But also exhilarating! But trusting Atlanta drivers not to mow you down? Terrifying. Trusting my clumsy self to not fall off or crash, head first, into a garbage can? Terrifying. But I did it successfully and trust myself more. Still don’t trust Atlanta drivers, though. We’re the worst.
You know where I was going on this scooter? Sephora. Yeah–I know. I was really shocked and embarrassed about the amount of money I spent at Sephora and possibly becoming a Rouge member, but you know what? That was then; this is now. I need bath salts and eye shadow, okay? I’m a Rouge member! This is who I am now. And while I did restock my bath salts supply, I wasn’t there just for myself this time. I was buying gifts. Kids, there isn’t much that makes me happier than Christmas shopping. I want to express to you how excited I get when I find the perfect gift for someone, but I can’t. It’s impossible to convey. I don’t want to sound cliché, but it really is the most wonderful time of the year. Gah, I can’t believe I just said that. But I also stand by it.
Yesterday I went to CVS to get my flu shot. I stood in line for over thirty minutes, which was kind of annoying. But I’m a flu magnet, so I just had to wait it out. When I got up to the counter, the pharmacist told me that I had really glowy skin, which made me feel like this for the rest of the day.
After my flu shot, I bought some travel size toiletries for my upcoming trip to Paris. A trip I’m paying for solely with credit card rewards. I’m very impressed with myself. I tell anyone who’ll listen. Usually that’s just my goddaughter, and that’s only because she’s three and doesn’t have anything else to listen to. Why do you think I write this blog, guys? I’m very chatty sometimes and no one listens to me!
Alright. I think that’s it. I’m on my way to the Nike store to buy clothes for the Pilates classes I signed up for. I’ll tell you allll about it next time.
À la prochaine !
Every now and then I agree to wax my mustache, slip on a dress, don a pair of painful (but beautiful!) heels, go to a nice restaurant, and feign being familiar with the wine offerings. These are the criteria of an adult female human, n’est-ce pas? Besides which, I have a bathroom full of makeup that needs rationalizing.
This week I went to Staplehouse for the first time, and it lived up to the hype. The service was great, the atmosphere was welcoming and comfortable, and the food was…delicious. Gah, delicious is so basic–what’s wrong with me? The food was mouthwatering and delectable. Heavenly? I don’t know, man. I’m not a food critic. The food was…ambrosial. The thesaurus says that means delightful. We’ve all learned a new word today. You’re welcome.
I ate liver, kids. Beautifully presented liver. And okra. Foods I had long since condemned. And I recommend those things to you. I recommend that you eat chicken liver. I don’t know who I am anymore. Actually, that’s not true. I’m the girl who put on a red lip, enjoyed some chicken liver and Beaujolais, and who’s now sitting on her couch in a robe eating Twizzlers. What can I say? I’m well-rounded.
If you happen to go to Staplehouse (or have already been) let me know what you think!