It's been two months and I realize this. I also realize that everything I say in this paragraph will be skimmed over, your eyes mid-roll, because this is far from my first apology and will certainly not be my last. Still, I feel obligated to say IT'SNOTYOUIT'SME and to extend my arms. If you want to accept my hug, it's all yours. If you want to pelt me with small objects instead, that's cool too. I get it, I'm sorry, I love you, baby, let's never fight again.
So where did we leave off? I moved out of school in mid-June and was immediately congratulated for a term well-done... with oral surgery. No matter how much I protested, my wisdom teeth were begging to gtfo. It wasn't a horrendous experience pain-wise, but my tiny mouth decided to punish me* by swelling out like a basketball and preventing my jaw from opening fully. I spent a week and a half on an undesired juice fast, unable to part my teeth more than a centimeter. Sigh. #whitegirlproblems
But just as every gay-friendly celebrity will tell you, it gets better. My cheeks shrunk back to their normal size, my fatassery picked back up where it left off, and I've had some very fun post-recovery days. The Situation came over for the week leading up to his current tour, and we went for walks, made completely inane internet projects solely for our own amusement, and visited the Cleveland zoo. I even got to drag him to my extended family's annual Fourth of July party where the main topics of conversation ranged from how friggin' pregnant my sister and brother-in-law are getting**, to how much abuse my brother takes from the little cousins, to cupcakes. Party in the USA.
I also spent the 4th and its surrounding weekend with The Situation's tourmates (friends of mine, as well), Alex Carpenter, Jason Munday, Christian Caldeira and his girlfriend, Kelly. I put aside my strong aversion to pokey objects in the vicinity of my eyes just long enough to play with sparklers, and to the great amusement of my boyfriend, managed to paint the fingernails of a sleeping Jason. Oh, youth.
I'd like to lie and tell you that more has happened since we last spoke, but unless you want to hear long, detailed descriptions of... watching Nancy Grace cover the Casey Anthony trial... with my mother... every single night... I've got nothing. So far, the summer has been devoted entirely to nursing my sore mouth, screaming things like "HOW CAN THEY IGNORE THE TRACES OF CHLOROFORM?!" at Anderson Cooper's dreamy eyes, and working on this godforsaken novel of mine. The current goal is to have a solid, decent draft by the time my sister passes a human child through her legs. I'm racing a baby. A Book Before the Birth. I was going to come up with another quirky way of phrasing that, but besides realizing that "librarian" rhymes with "cesarean," I'm fresh out of ideas. Shut up. It's late.
Anyway, I leave tomorrow evening for LeakyCon, where I'll hopefully meet a whole slew of you. If we do cross paths, be prepared to high-five a stranger, because you really don't have a choice in the matter. If we don't get to chill in person this week, however, try not to be too bummed-- I've had to stay home while all my friends attended Potter conferences in the past, and it majorly sucks, but you're still freaking top-notch in my book. Here, have a high-five in typographic form: ^5.*** You guys all kick ass. And now I sleep. Goodnight!
Chipotle burritos this year: um... 13?
Nail color: a pale pink OPI
Miles run today: 1
*As if I'm not already punished enough as it is-- damn you, Angelina Jolie, for making full lips a beauty requirement.
**He's showing less than she is, though.
***Sorry, Karen Kavett-- I can't say I'm positive what the word "typographic" actually means.