This is going to be a post about a couple shiznat happenings in my life. I do what I waaaant.
Shocking Events
I have to discuss with you guys a major issue that arose today. Last week, whenever anyone asked me to do anything, my immediate response had been yes. Movie? Yes! Trivia? Why not? Random semi-political concert in support of peace between Israel and Palestine? ... Sure!? I was just so enamored with the idea that I could finally do anything after work and go to my apartment and sleep in my own bed. So, it came as a massive surprise to me when I was asked to go to happy hour (my second favorite meal behind brunch) and I responded, "No."
Shocking Events
I have to discuss with you guys a major issue that arose today. Last week, whenever anyone asked me to do anything, my immediate response had been yes. Movie? Yes! Trivia? Why not? Random semi-political concert in support of peace between Israel and Palestine? ... Sure!? I was just so enamored with the idea that I could finally do anything after work and go to my apartment and sleep in my own bed. So, it came as a massive surprise to me when I was asked to go to happy hour (my second favorite meal behind brunch) and I responded, "No."
(But. Whaaaat?)
There are only three possibilities for why this could happen:
- I've just discovered that money doesn't grow on trees.
- I'm going to Miami in May for work, and I need to start working out instead of eating out.
- The Apocalypse is upon us.
Well, if you guessed ALL three of these, then you are right. (But mainly, you should probably start preparing for number 3, because that shit is real and not okay.) As I mentioned above, I have been going out on a regular basis since I moved to the city and pretending that I have unlimited funds for these things. I def needed to take a week off from spending money and what better way to spend my time than going to the gym? (I COULD THINK OF A MILLION THINGS I'D LIKE TO DO THAT DON'T INVOLVE A GYM. Sorry. I just. It's. Ughh.)
Remember that time I slipped in there that I am going to Miami in May and pretended like I wasn't going to talk about it? HAHA! I'm a sneaky mothatrucka. Real talk: My company is sending everyone to Miami in May for our company meeting.
(Oh deary me!)
We have these amazing trips every year for our company meetings out on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Everyone just assumed that when we got too big we would end up stopping these events. INSTEAD, THEY ARE TAKING US TO MIAMI. (I'm prone to outbursts, sorry I'm not sorry) We are going for three days the week after Memorial Day. I have never been to Miami before, so I decided that I was going to stay an extra few days with a couple of gals, a couple of gays, and a straightee thrown in there. In order to get my shit together for those buff, tan gays down in Miami, I have decided that going to the gym is actually going to be worth it. I am also going to be sucking up enough UV rays to power a solar-powered car for a cross-country trip. You know, 'cause that's healthy.
(Basically, what I wanna be. Sans the boobs... and the sex tape.)
Barista Boyfriend
Since I moved in a little over a month ago, I have put my love life on the back burner. (I like pretending that I have a love life that can be placed somewhere other than in front of me.) I decided that it was important for me to get myself established in the city and set up my home for any possible suitors to see. (After AT least the third date. I'm classy like that. Also, #celibacy2013.) This hasn't stopped me from the occasional sloppy makeout at the local gay hangouts, I've just been more picky about who gets to see me sober. 'Cause that's a healthy way to date.
There has been one consistant man in my life since I moved to DC and he, my friends, happens to be the local Starbucks barista.
(Oh, I wish I was that latte.)
The issue I am running into here is that I have created a fictional relationship with him. He is very, very nice and always has a gregarious greeting for me... just like he does with everyone else. I have also been there frequently enough for him to remember my drink — sorta.
Me: I would like a...
Barista: Don't tell me, I got this! You want a venti caramel macchiato, right papi? (Did I mention he is Hispanic? OH, I didn't? Welp, he's Hispanic.)
Me: So close! I would like an iced venti skinny vanilla latte!
Barista: Ahh, I was close. I'll get it next time!
Me: No worries, you're so good at drinks making of them and such. (Remember how awkward I am?)
Barista: And your name is Steven, right?
Me: Close again! Its Mm...
Barista: I got this! It's Milo!!!
Me: Close enough for today...
It's not Milo. Due to these brief interactions and the consistency with which I see him, I have decided he is currently my boyfriend.
(Insane in the membrane!!!!!!)
Concerts and the City That Never Sleeps
Next week, I am going to New York to see Taylor Swift!
(Imma let you finish, but SUCK IT I'M GOING TO SEE HER.)
The concert is on Wednesday, and I'm going to be there for a few days of debauchery and other fun activities. We know how aggressive NY can be, so, hopefully, we will find ourselves in a game of Russian Roulette with a bottle of vodka and prowl the town for boys.
Until next week...
Bush: Puzzled about everything
Miami: Heyyyy gurl
Kim Kardashian: I think I need to make a sex tape to get famous
Fabulously Lost: Workin for da man and livin an abbreviated dream
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