The Tipsy Blog Post

Welcome to the Livin' La Tipsy Vida Local, the blog where I'm kind of tipsy from drinking two beers on a somewhat empty stomach. Where did I drink two beers? At no other place than the Melody Lounge, bless its heart. With whom did I drink two beers? With no other individual than my bike-riding roomie, bless his heart. Yes, major roommate bonding. I came home from work and he had returned for a day-off-drinking intermission. I thought to myself, "Well, I have a job, so I think I'll drink too," and invited him to come out for a couple rounds. As you can see, I'm the master of finding arbitrary justifications for whatever I feel like doing at the moment.

Consequences of being tipsy:

-Making pasta for the first time in ages
-Ranting about how much I hate bugs with my roommate for like a solid 15 minutes
-Drunk-texting my landlady smiley faces for working on the leak in the bathroom literally within an hour of me telling her about it
-Not understanding like 75% of what my landlady's husband just told me about the status on the leak in the bathroom
-Really having to poop... and not knowing whether it's okay to use the bathroom

But yes, business. Important business. Business-y business.

*ahem* [straightens bowtie] [wonders if anyone who actually wants to be taken seriously wears bowties anymore]

NEWS: I quit the bakery. As of tomorrow, it will be two weeks since I put in my two weeks. I know, I didn't tell you... it's like that scene from V for Vendetta where the politician doesn't know she's been poisoned until V tells her moments before her death.

Or something.

But I felt like staving off the news so that I could immediately follow it up with this news: I got the director's personal assistant job!

shawt-ay-yee

In a whiplash turnaround I went from having a quirky minimum-wage job to having a small-scale "write on business cards" kind of job. Now, granted, I'm telling the world about it, and as we know, with any achievement I publicly toot my horn about it always makes a point of completely failing so that I have to come back and engage in a shameful public eating-of-words. Words are like the only thing that I don't enjoy eating. That and melon. Seriously, fuck melon.

OKAY WE GET IT, YOU LOOK LIKE A VAGINA

And especially since I've never done personal assisting before, we'll have to see how this goes down. In the week past week or so I've been "eased" into it the way a newborn baby giraffe is eased into the concept of gravity. I'm just incredibly grateful that my idea of a "fun board game" growing up was our pictures-of-nature-edition Memory Card game. Being a personal assistant is nothing but being in charge of remembering and prioritizing every aspect of another individual's existence... I'm like a smart phone that occasionally has to step out to use the bathroom. It's completely bonkers, but amidst all the helter skelter I'm actually kind of jazzed on it so far. It's a puzzle game. I love puzzles. The fact that I prefer Sudoku to human contact is finally paying off!

Loving you is easy 'cause you're beautiful...

I wish I had more to say, but I've transitioned from being tipsy to just being tired. So on that shamelessly geeky note I guess I'll go watch Netflix and pass out. Apparently that's what you do when you're 22 in the new millennium. #rightontrack

RE HASHTAGS: You can blame that on the beers... in fact I wish you would, because the sad truth is that I now hashtag a lot of my internal thoughts subconsciously. I really, really, hate the internet. #saideveryinternetaddictever