How did Kurt Vonnegut do it? Because clearly that is whom I should compare myself to because we're totally on the same level.
I have to admit I've been feeling vaguely on top of the world recently due to the smoothness (slash lack of meltdownage) of my first East Coast trip. But then I remember I only completed my online sexual harassment training mere hours before the deadline and that it took me leaving for my second trip to the East Coast to finally unpack from my first trip to the East Coast and all my starry-eyed ideas about being a functional--if not industrious--adult gets chucked squarely out the window. But you still love me, I'm sure. No, you're right. Idolize is probably a better word for it.
Right now, I am sitting in my pajamas in a hotel in Baltimore, watching Wizard Oz on TBS and surprising myself by the number of lines that I can recite verbatim. Is it weird that I still feel that slight, familiar lurch in the pit of my stomach on the note before Wicked Witch of the East appears in Munchkin Land?
Also, and I am not sure why it took me until this viewing to realize this, but Glinda is kind of a B. I mean, Dorothy clearly asks her how to get home and Glinda pulls this elusive bullshit about following the yellow brick road and then has the nerve, the NERVE, to tell Dorothy at the end that the reason that she didn't tell her the ruby slippers had to power to transport her back to Kansas is because Dorothy wouldn't have believed. I know, I know, it's about the journey blah blah blah. But seriously, Glinda, what the H? Wouldn't have believed you? Bitch, you magic. #Waytobewithholdingaboutpertinentinformation. Too much? Fine.
Against my better judgment, I clicked on a link floating around the facebook that assigns animals to the meyers brigg personality types and discovered that my spirit animal is an owl:
I read this to Moses over the phone and I'm not sure if he's speaking to me again yet.
I was very disappointed in myself that I wasn't more persistent in getting ridiculous selfies at the San Francisco Palace of Fine Arts, so when I was in DC, I committed.
I committed hard.
Of course, I also acted like a normal person.
Same face in every picture syndrome be mine!
P.S. How do you feel about the bangs? Moses says that he doesn't like bangs so I am going to need you to go ahead and assume his role of validating my life choices.
While in DC, I was fortunate enough to stay in just about the weirdest, grooviest, Austin Powers meets Willy Wonka hotel room. I almost don't want to show the pics after giving you that description but I feel like it would be cruel not to.
|Complimentary zebra print bath robe|
|Curtains to the boudoir.|
|The mini bar.|
I wouldn't have known what to make of it, if I wasn't positive that it was awesome.
As for today? Today, I had grand plans to rise early and walk around the Baltimore harbor buuuuuuuuuut then I opened a drowsy eye lid to peer at the weather forecast this morning and decided that my hotel bed was a bit too warm and too comfy for me to leave it and brave the frigid tundra-like temperatures. Especially when I've been conditioned to find 60 degrees chilly.
So I drank coffee and watched top chef instead. All in all, it was a perfect day to spend mostly indoors.
Life experience, life spexsperience.
And now off to force myself to get a few hours of shut eye before I catch the earliest of early morning flights tomorrow.
Travels thus endeth. For now. Until Christmas. Not complaining. Much.
Owl catch you later. Ugh. Okay. Stopping now...