I've been retardedly busy lately, people. Yes, I used the word "retardedly". I know it's not politically correct but you know what? F*ck that. It's the word that best describes my current situation. I've been writing like a fiend, working on various plays, which explains why I've only been posting about once a week on this blog.
This is not to say I don't value you, my readers. I do. But my love is proportional to your overt adoration. Like any artist. And I've been busy playing Angry Birds on my iPhone. Don't judge. Every writer needs a break, or at least a valid excuse to procrastinate.
I came across a funny article the other day. It stated that people who watch Fox News are less informed than people who don't watch the news at all. This is why I don't watch the news.
Demi Moore filed for divorce from Ashton Kutcher. I know. You're thinking: "Bitch, where have you been, that's so last week." I simply mention it because I knew this would happen. I knew it as soon as Demi posted pictures of herself on Twitter in a bikini and shades in her bathroom. Only a desperate woman, aware of her partner's wandering affections, would do such a thing.
I went shopping last week for "non-moo moo" home clothes. Home clothes are what I immediately change into when returning home from work, 'cause let's face it, tight pants and bras with underwire gotta go at some point in the day.
My boyfriend was lamenting the fact that my home clothes were somewhat... ample. I believe his words were "tent-like". So, out of the goodness of my heart, accompanied by said boyfriend, we went shopping for home clothes that actually fit, and much to his delight, were somewhat form-fitting.
The only downside is that now I continually get couch groped. I'm innocently ensconced in our couch, watching TV and the boyfriend starts groping me 'cause I got the hot home clothes now. But if I start posting photos on Twitter, positioned provocatively in my new hip-hugging sweats, you know there's trouble in paradise.
I almost got run over by a car a few weeks ago while I was cycling home. My life did not flash before my eyes. A couple weeks later, I was trying to Shazam a song on the radio while driving. I then understood why cyclists get run over by cars.