#Goals

This weekend I...

  • will write something longer than a tweet, but shorter than a novel
  • get more sleep
  • wash my face and put on moisturizer
  • not eat fast food (defined by: McDonald's, not late night happy hour bar food)
  • win the wing eating contest (or die trying) @ The Cheerful Tortoise 4th Annual Wing Eating Contest

This started as a list of goals and then just became a form of self promotion

Shocking

 

#FUCKit's5am

I get it AirBnb, you need a legit photo of me to make sure it's me... but 5 a.m., after Thanksgiving. I'm not even drunk, this is just painful. I slept my makeup off in a hazy turkey induced coma of sweat. I'm literally oozing gravy and cheese. LITERALLY

Sure, I shouldn't have waited until now to book a room in Eugene... during the Duck/Beav game, but if I was organized would I be a fucking comedian? STOP HOUNDING ME.

Seriously though, Tinder/Bumble/OKC up your game. Require a photo at this hour and true love does exist. No if/and/or/buts ... that's not how slashes work in grammar. They also aren't slashes.

Should I have told the hosts we're comics? That was a bad idea huh?

... ugh, why am I awake, sober, and hungry right now?

#daydrinking

I always feel that I need to be properly attired in one of two ways for such an occasion: fancy or garbage.

This probably stems from the years of theatre, and my obsession of costuming. Then again, I think it speaks to my commitment of method acting now playing the greatest role of my life... aspiring poor comedian.