Well, I am back.
You can remove my face from milk cartons and those little black and white cards that flap in the wind on bulletin boards outside post offices. And until the next time that my real job swallows me whole and spits me out into a raggedy, caffeine-soaked, LCD-burned quivering mess that requires 5 days of non-stop sleep and devouring Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches to fix, I am newly dedicated to filling your minds with unnecessary items to purchase, eat and also to write about stuff that bothers me, which is most things.
To celebrate my triumphant return, here are some things I am happy about:
Summer Fridays. My company is one of the kind few who believes that pretending we will be allowed to take every other Friday off to “work from home” is a benefit! I won’t argue though, because I consider these an inalienable right, and am determined to spend every other Friday from here to Labor Day planted firmly in the sun, be it outside my apartment in sweatpants with laptop, or in a boat off the coast of Cape Cod. That’s it. Embrace the jealousy. (You can rub this back in my face when I spend the vast majority of them right here in my florescent box).
Sigg Water Bottle Crisis Solved. I was at EMS the other day and broke down and bought one of these Sigg water bottles.
They only had the most HIDEOUS one ever.
I convinced myself it would be okay and drew on it with a Sharpie until it was somehow worse than before.
Four days later, I bought a TOTALLY ADORABLE one at the gift shop of the gym. This isn’t it, but I couldn’t find one that looked like it, and I thought this one was also very adorable. Just not as adorable as mine. I will now give my old one to the boyfriend, Kingston, who will be forced to cart it to work with him under the guise that I care about his hydration and am not merely trying to assuage my consumer guilt.
LOST Finale! Oh my gosh. I don’t even have words to describe my excitement. It’s sort of like Christmas and your birthday rolled into one, with the excitement and sense of the imminent receipt of great gifts, followed by emotional crash at the long summer months Lost-less.
“But, Harlow,” you say, “unlike Christmas and your birthday, you will not have any gifts when LOST is over.”
Well you would be right. Unless you count two blown retinas from watching so much awesomeness and a whole pile of sweet, sweet knowledge as gifts, which, obviously, I do.
That’s all for now.
