Sometimes it feels like everything is against you. Today was one of those days. My dad was always very adamant about getting to the airport/bus station about 50 years before we were actually boarded. Me being my spontaneous DUMB self, has always disregarded this smart lesson. I bought a ticket on my phone for a Greyhound bus home at 6:00 pm. Because I bought it on my phone I would have to pick up the physical ticket at a kiosk. Here’s where things start going wrong. I already have been feeling extremely ill which adds to the fun unconscious vibes of this tale! Abby, her friend Jack and I took a train from white plains into grand central station. The train arrived at grand central at 5:00 pm. I was supposed to be at the station no later than an hour before the bus boarded to print my ticket. This is where the panic began. I was holding my two bags, both containing the weight of the Grand Canyon inside so that made walking extremely easy (does my sarcasm translate or no). Abby was keeping my very calm and so was Jack and I cannot thank them enough for putting up with my voice cracking, on the verge of pity whimpering nonsense. I tried to get an uber and he was at the wrong location to pick us up and when we finally ran to get to him. Wait for it. He drove away. So my panic level has now reached Titanic passenger after seeing all the rays run from the water pouring into the third class corridors. Abby calls a lyft which is basically uber and as we look for this car and finally find it. It. Drives. Away. I am now a toddler and am losing my fucking mind. We decide to walk at this point. It is not 5:50. The bus boards in 10 minutes but I don’t even have a physical ticket yet. I am convulsing. I am sending terrible vibes out into the universe and basically thinking I will have to take another bus. As we’re running (jack has kindly taken my extremely girly duffle bag) I decide to look up later bus times. The only available time to Boston arrives in the city at 2:30 am. Mind you I’m sick and I have to work an 8 hour shift tomorrow. I’m moaning quietly at this point. I am extremely annoyed by myself. We reach port authority and run to the terminal. Of all the ways this situation could have turned out…magically the bus is late. Jack runs with me to print my ticket. The bus ended up being almost two hours late and I couldn’t have been happier about it. I’m now listening to musical theatre music and Peter Gabriel’s “So” on the way home. Boston home.
Sometimes everything goes wrong. And you have to incredibly kind people to get you though it. And put up with your childish reactions and hold your flowery duffle bag and wait for the bus that was two hours behind schedule. And it doesn’t feel like the end of the world anymore.
Today is national treat yo self day and I have done exactly that. Abby and I went to a fancy ass Italian place and we’re on our way to Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp at 54 below. Life is exciting and good.
I am currently sitting in a rehearsal room watching my friend’s acapella group. Their name is choral pleasure also. They are fucking amazing and it’s not a bad way to spend a Wednesday night. I took a six hour bus from Boston to White Plains and BOY what a bus ride it was. The morning began at 4:00 am. I’m going to repeat that. 4:00 am. At the station I was confused about where the gate was and luckily found it without looking too much like a noob. While waiting in line an older man fell difectly backwards which was pretty terrifying, the bus driver yelled at two boys two minutes into the trip and at Mohegan sun (which by the way is a TERRIFYING looking place and it most definitely is not real and oxygen is pumped in) he got into a fight with someone off the bus. DRAMMAAA. I’ve had a pretty raw sore throats today but nothing that emergen C and DayQuil can’t help (also two grande iced chai lattes and sushi). I got to sit in on a seminar class and listen to some extremely talented folks (one of which made a song get stuck in my head). Hopefully I feel less like I’m swallowing fingernails tomorrow because tomorrow I’m seeing Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp in the big apple. Life is good good good.
It’s been a month. Here’s a video. Ignore the HIDEOUS thumbnail.
I have always had fairly good skin (buckle your seatbelts ladies and gents for the most controversial, taboo post I’ve made yet!!) but recently, due to the grime of the city or maybe just my own personal grime, it has straight up sucked. Sucked. It has this gray tint that resembles Dobby from Harry Potter, and I always ALWAYS have a blemish somewhere. Blemish is the cute way of saying “I have a crater growing on the crevice between my lips and my chin thanks so much for asking!!” I wear makeup daily which is something I hate doing but I also would rather not look like I’m wearing stage makeup to play the ghost of Christmas past in a low-budget production of “A Christmas Carol.”
My skin routine goes as follows:
- I wake up and cleanse my skin with this mario bedescau (spelling) stuff and then sometimes use toner.
- I moisturize in some way or another
- Beat my face (you can look up the Urban dictionary definition of this if you are so implied)
I am really over with this whole dull, gray, old man skin so I decided to do something about it. What is my idea of a solution?? Buying a buttload of products. Today I was on the usual bus I go on to the end of Newbury street but the bus driver decided to SKIP that stop for kicks and giggles and I ended up in Harvard Square…a little out of my way. While I was in Cambridge I decided to get an exfoliator from LUSH. I have a lot of respect for the way LUSH runs their company and give them major props for everything they do. I spoke to a sweet saleswoman and she hooked me up with a bomb ass exfoliator for the face and body called Ocean Salt. She tested it on my hand and rinsed it off in this little sink and I felt like a queen so I bought it.
I will keep you all updated on my skin. (I’m sorry about this post)
When I decided I wanted to work full time I did it because I didn’t want to just be sitting around. I wanted down time to be earned, and I wanted a constant schedule. I wasn’t even really thinking about the money. The thing is. Now that I’m working forty hours a week I most definitely am thinking about the money. I have worked almost every day this week, all 8 hour shifts and all closing shifts. The thing about closing is that it is the only thing hanging over your head even at 8:30 in the morning. As you’re cutting tomatoes and spreading cream cheese, all you can think about is the abundance of tasks that lay ahead of you. This week I have Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday AND Friday off because I’m going to New York. I could not be more excited for this hiatus from coffee grounds, veggie tofu cream cheese and god damn parfaits.
I do like this whole staying busy deal. I feel productive, I feel like an adult, and I most definitely do NOT feel guilty about sleeping all day on a rainy Sunday.
Also I don’t have to set my alarm tomorrow and that’s a beautiful thing.
With friends at the lawn on d. Must do BOSTON things. BYE for now.
I’m exhausted and I work tomorrow at 8 am so here’s a couple one liners I can up with/tweet ideas.
-Look at any picture of yourself from middle school and I gaurentee your eyebrows will be raised and you will have forehead worms with sad eyes
-I wish I was like Monica or Rachel or pheobe but let’s face it I’m Janice
-I just want everyone to know that at one point in my life I loved diary of a wimpy kid and I’m not ashamed to admit it okay?
-Thinking about you makes me want to throw up a little bit? But in like the best way possible?
-What I would give to go to a middle school dance and tell people what they are gonna turn out like
that’s all. Night night.
I told myself I would make this three months exciting and interesting, filled with new experiences that would give me stories. Be careful what you wish for kids, I’m about to spin you a tale that will literally make you cringe.
I decided I would wear a unitard to work today because it makes me feel like a boss ass bitch and it looks fierce with a pair of light wash mom jeans. To be exact, it’s not a unitard…it’s the leotard that was bought for me by the PHS music department for the production of Chicago last fall. But hey, I’m gonna get the most use out of it as I possibly can. It has a low back so I don’t wear a bra with it which is a freeing feeling most unitards give you. The ONLY and I mean ONLY downside to wearing a unitard is that when you go to the bathroom you have to sit completely naked on the toilet, like a child who is confused by the concept that taking off your pants doesn’t mean you need to take off ever article of clothing.
During my eight hour shift today I had a half an hour break and during that break I went to the bathroom. I locked the door. Let me repeat that. I locked the door. I removed my unitard and sat shirtless on the toilet. I was doing my business and I kid you NOT I thought to myself, “wouldn’t it be so bad if someone walked in on me.” You can probably guess the climax to this story. I was zoning out and suddenly the door opened and a postman in his full postman attire stood before me. I don’t know why he was trying to use the employee bathroom but that’s beside the point. I didn’t catch the look on his face because after frantically saying “I’m sorry,” and me responding “Oh my god,” we both had closed the door.
I’m going to let you process that for a second.
Obviously, I was embarrassed, but the POOR man was DEFINITELY not expecting to see an eighteen-year-old girl on the toilet.. let alone a SHIRTLESS eighteen-year-old girl.
I went into the breakroom and told my coworker the story, and then another came in and we were both laughing so hard I had to tell him too. I think it brought a smile to everyone’s day. Except maybe the postman’s.
I’m exhausted after an eight hour day so this post may be a bit brief. Avocados usually bring me great joy. The creamy, green, paste is so easy to spoon out and just eat straight from the like the good Lord intended us to. Today I was already on the verge of a mental breakdown because I kept fucking everything up and then I made a BLT or a BTL or whatever for a woman who asked for no avocados and I was intently looking at the cheat sheet and I put avocaDO on it and the sandwich and I did and I FELT SO BAD when she brought it back.
That is all.
But who doesn’t like avocados… like you’re insane.