Skinny Bits: 9.15.12
Pay no attention to the fact that it’s Saturday and not Friday when this is was supposed to go up.
Or let go of your notion of “supposed to” altogether and rock with me on a Saturday because you respect my prerogative to do as I please.
The former sounds so polite, doesn’t it?
In a conversation with a friend about some adventurous naughty time she had with her man, my friend said: “It’s mine, I pull it out as I please.” That was the first sentence I heard in awhile that made me want a *cough* boyfriend *cough.*
Not that I haven’t been getting… Because… Wait. That’s a conversation best had in private.
ANYWAY.
It’s my first time playing Fantasy Football. Why didn’t you people tell me how stressful this is?! I spent Sunday at my homey L Dot’s house with NFL Sunday ticket and my phone glued to my palm, eyes darting between the TV screen and my NFL Fantasy app wondering “Is this what crackheads feel like?!” I made peace with my week one loss by Tuesday and vowed to exercise more chill in week two.
Speaking of football, I started my week watching Peyton Manning pick apart a defense for the first time since January 2011. All is once again right with the sports world.
Now who’s buying me a Broncos jersey for my birthday next month? You have twenty-four days.
Plucked from a recent Gchat conversation: “I’m not his Mrs. Right but I’ll gladly fuck him until he finds her.”
I spent my Friday night with CT at a quarterly underground art festival called Ingenuity Fest. This edition took place in two warehouses at the Port of Cleveland, next to Browns Stadium and overlooking Lake Erie. I drank Jack and Coke (somehow this has become my new drink of choice), watched a short film on an old bus, twerked in front of a painting to Luda’s “How Low,” ate a funnel cake, and skipped giddily through each exhibit snapping and posting pictures.
In other words, I had the kind of awesomely quirky random night that I only have with my awesomely quirky random best friend.
This week, someone told me they admired the discipline it takes to be me. It stuck with me because I’ve never thought myself “disciplined.” I look at my life and see half notes scattered and pursuits unfinished, but he reminded me of the strength it takes to manage my everyday existence. Some will call it mental illness, others will say that we all have burdens and my turbulent mind is just my lot. Either way, I have to remember that I fight a battle every. single. day. And everyday, I win.
Do you have the power to get out from up under you?
Yes, I do.
