Good morning lovelies!
I had some really bizarre dreams last night — I dreamed I found out Lord Voldemort was my dad and to escape I ran away and joined Star Fleet.
I guess that qualifies as one of those situations where you literally don’t want to live on the planet any more.
Well, after the shitstorm of a day I had yesterday, I went home, cracked open a beer (not low carb, but at that point no fucks were given), took off my clothes, and got in the shower… with my beer.
I call it ShowerBeer.
It was glorious.
To properly perform ShowerBeer, your beer must be in a container where water and soap are not likely to enter… preferably a bottle. And you just let the hot water soak away your worries and drink your beer.
If you had a really, really epic shitty day, bring a second one with you… already opened.
I ended up crashing at like 8pm.
I didn’t sleep well the nigh before because I slept on Besty and Motorhead’s couch. They have this 20 lb giant white cat who decided I was to be her bed. It was cute for a while…
I woke up at 5am, and evidently I slept in a weird position because my hip/pelvic carriage was all kinds of hurting and my arm was asleep.
So, I’m bound and determined to have a good day. I put on makeup, wearing a knee length dress, and some bright red lipstick.
It will be a good day.
There will be no Fuckshit Cunthattery.
*Note: whilst searching for accompanying images, I realized ShowerBeer is more prolific than originally thought. Great minds think alike.
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