Post No Bullets

Today's blog is brought to you by bullets:

• Organize your thoughts
• Be concise

• Lee Daniels' The Butler: Begins terribly, gets a little better, ends on a sort of dumb note. Oprah and Forest were aight, and John Cusack (see: husband in alternate universe where he isn't a douche in real life) plays Richard Nixon, which was almost as entertaining as seeing Alan Rickman play Ronald Reagan.
• Total amount of sleep accrued between yesterday and today: About 8, which is 8 less than I usually receive in that amount of time. That's what I get for not knowing how to understand L.A. public transportation on the weekends and scrambling to find some sort of ride from downtown to my apartment at 11pm last night. (My friends introduced me to Uber, which is a sort of taxi service that is uber delightful... when you have promo codes that get you rides fo' free.)
• Today: Woke up, drove to Hacienda Heights for training at my "co-teacher" job (which was basically being paid to sit in a room with chipper people for 5 hours and think about teaching), tutored, bummed in Whittier for a minute, went home.
• Upon arriving in Chinatown: I realized I'd made a terrible mistake. A Dodger's game AND FYF were both going on tonight... essentially sandwiching me between special event DOOM and leaving me pretty much no place to park. Fortunately, I eventually found a spot. Unfortunately, I was transporting a stack of slats for my bed and had to carry them a block to my apartment. *grumble grumble stomp stomp* But it's okay because I kind of felt like Mulan.

Mysterious as the dark side of Dodger Stadium.

• But then: When I was almost home, a man in a Dodger's tee looking for parking saw me carrying the slats, got out of his car, and insisted upon carrying them the rest of the way. He was very friendly and outgoing, and said he graduated from the high school right by me. Faith in discovering a sense of community within a large, commercialized metropolitan area: boosted. I hope he found parking.
• And then: As I was setting up my slatty-slats, I heard the music that was pouring in through my window from FYF. Hmm... this sounds f... oh my god it's MGMT. It was like some sort of cosmic apology for the parking stress from earlier. So as you can imagine I was smug as a slug listening to live concerts by [FYF line-up, I don't know, I didn't go, it came to ME] as I did my laundry and ate dinner.
• Tomorrow: Gonna follow-up on the cake decorating positions I applied to, and go to the internship interview later on. I got my lil' blue dress picked out and everything... it's like 1920's secretary revisited, it's great.

Unlike the thoroughly awful musical it belongs in.

•  Also, this happened: I sliced my thumb open while feeling around blindly under my car's seat for a missing shoe. I broke a glass vase in my car earlier this summer (don't ask) and apparently I still haven't gotten rid of all the heinously ginormous shards floating around. To add insult to injury, I didn't find the shoe.
• And for anyone who cares: Third flattie might be moving in soon. I only know his name, that he's 26, and that he's a writer. Score. Unless he's a Tom Clancy ghost writer, in which case we are going to have serious issues.

I hope you enjoyed those bullets. If you didn't, then I hope you like these ones: