what i've been up to (because i obviously have not been blogging)

I flew to Chicago this past weekend to play with my girls and it was awesome and also it was fucking cold. When I landed at O’Hare on Friday the temperature was -28 degrees. Fahrenheit. It wasn’t too bad though because I was wearing this amazingly warm set of LL Bean long underwear that my Dad got for me in the seventh grade. When I was in seventh grade, I mean. Not when my Dad was in seventh grade. That would be weird. Anyway, I call my long underwear my ninja suit and yes, it’s true, my ninja suit is half as old as I am.

On Saturday day I had lunch with my bougie friend, Caroline (hi Carlo!). We went to Chilis (obv) and then to Nordstroms where I bought the cutest ever Goldenbleu bag on super sale. Yes, yes…recession…I heard something about that. But y’see, I’ve been carrying a ripped, polyester tote bag I got free from the Game Developer’s Conference about a year ago and someone on the subway tried to drop their spare change in my coffee cup the other day so it was time to upgrade.

Also on Saturday, the Vaandrager clan and I played Taboo and I learned that the best clue for “Meg Ryan” is “that whore”.

Jacqueline’s birthday party was held in a private room at Five Star on Saturday night. It was small, but it had a stripper pole so…yeah. I would like to say that I am not anti stripper (wait I might be, I need to get back to you on that), but I am anti super-large-man-get-up-on-the-pole-and-start-whipping-around-really-fast-and-almost-fall-on-me. I’m totally anti that.

On Sunday morning the Vaandrager women and I went to Spa Space for pedicures. It was a pretty nice place and I probably would have enjoyed myself a lot more if I didn’t feel like I was going to hurl into my cucumber water, but you know…that’s how I feel the day after drinking 3 glasses of prosecco and 4 glasses of pinot grigio. Anyway, as I was taking off my boots and dipping my feets in warm, peppermint water, I realized the top of my foot was itchy. When the pedicurist sat down and I pulled my feet out of the tub we both noticed a GIGANTIC red bump on the top of my foot that was slowly growing bigger and bigger and bigger. It was tingly and I’m pretty sure there was puss. I figured my body was trying to throw up out of my foot, but the V’s assured me it was a spider bite. Or possibly a CENTIPEDE bite.

It seems that whenever I pay someone to touch me, I puss, swell, bleed, or snot on them. It happened this weekend with the pedicurist and the spider bite. It happened last weekend when the masseuse asked me to roll over and a ¼ cup of snot ran out my nose, and it happened last month when my Pilates instructor grabbed me by the shins (Pilates is weird by the way) and said, “you have a cut on your leg and you’re bleeding pretty badly”.

I just decided the name of my second book will be The Pedicurist and the Spider Bite. Amy knows the title of my first book will be The Pitching of the Microwave, unless my first book is a biography of Huey Lewis in which case the title will be, The News. Obv.

I spent MLK day trying to get back home. My 11:00 flight didn’t take off until 2:00 because apparently the plane was missing “parts”, whatever that means. When we finally reached the New York area, we got stuck in a holding pattern for 40 minutes, ran out of fuel, and had to land in Hartford. I made it home before 8 which is annoying, but really not that annoying because I had lots of time to read Twilight and another top secret, soon-to-be bestselling novel. Muahaha.

This morning I woke up and On Demanded a Carmen Electra strip tease workout. It was pretty much a half hour of stretching, isolations, and hip pops but “with attitude”. It was not the most invigorating workout I’ve ever had, but it was the "sexiest" workout i've ever done at seven o’clock in the morning.

This afternoon I went on Facebook to grab some of Tia’s pictures from Saturday night to post here. But instead of searching for Tia’s name in the upper right hand corner of the screen, I searched for her name in the status bar and so now my Facebook status says, “Michaela is tia”. I’d like to tell you that I am not Tia. I am still me. And Obama is president!

1 comment:

Blogger said...

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