romping

So.

As it turns out, working two jobs is just as time-consuming (not to mention exhausting) as I thought it would be, meaning that Summer 2011 is officially The Summer of Working All The Fucking Time And Therefore Never Ever Having Any Fun Ever Under Any Circumstances Ever. Most of the time I’m too tired to even blog. WHEN DID I BECOME SUCH A FUDDY DUDDY?

I do not like this.

Anyway.

A couple weeks ago I actually had a day off (A DAY OFF! WHAT!) and spent the morning shopping with Mitch. He needed khakis that were actually khakis as opposed to cargo pants and not covered in mustard stains. Look at him! Growing up! And while at the mall, I made the mistake of venturing into Urban Outfitters where I not only spent seven dollars on novelty band-aids, but also…

Also?

I bought a romper.

I KNOW.

NBD.

In my defense, I initially grabbed a few to try on as a joke slash to remind Mitch how irresistibly sexy I look in ill-fitting onesies that show too much cellulite. But then, um, one wasn’t so bad? In fact it was kind of adorable. And, okay, fine, I bought it and I’ve worn it twice and I love it. Is that so wrong?!

Ahhhhhh I love the back! And please excuse my out-of-control lion's mane.

I immediately texted my friend Alex so she could begin judging me all the way from Houston. She has a special kind of hatred for clothing that makes adult women look like babies, a special kind of hatred I used to join her in until I became a heretic.

A heretic?

I’m operating on very little sleep these days and, as a result, not on top of my game. But whatever, y’all, I like to romp and I’m only 40% embarrassed to admit that. It’s so cute! I can belt it! Or I can NOT belt it! And I can wear necklaces with it! And SHOES! CUTE ONES! CUTE! Seriously, this is as exciting as my life gets since, besides wearing the romper on Friday for a family reunion, I can’t remember the last time I wore clothing other than Nike shorts, my camp counselor t-shirt, disgustingly loose black Bermuda work shorts, my Sonic shirt, and tennis shoes. Meaning: the romper is a big deal.

It’s cool if you all want to stop following my blog now.

In somewhat related news, here’s a quick rundown on what I’ve been up to lately if anyone even remotely cares and/or has missed me:

• Working two jobs sucks, I’m tired all the time and my feet never stop hurting
• Not having weekends off is probably one of my least favorite things ever, but that’s okay because I’ve been taking full advantage of my Tuesday nights off for kickball, ie. I threw up in a trashcan like a college girl a couple weeks ago
• Pete tore into the garbage, then ate an entire loaf of bread and a bag of cat food before exploding diarrhea all over the dining room carpet while I was at work – you can imagine the pleasant sight and smell upon my arrival
• At least I’m sort of a rockstar at (both?) my job(s?). End bragfest 2k11.
• I miss blogging. And reading y’all’s blogs. And I feel totally disconnected from, um, everyone. Not cool.
• I wear rompers now.
• I ate some vegetables last week.
• A lot has changed, but only in very boring ways.

To those of you still sticking around despite the dearth in posting, thanks. :) And on that note, I’m off to finish typing up lesson plans for camp this week because, hey, it’s 10:50 on a Sunday night and, no thanks, I don’t feel like resting.

It ain’t easy being a boss.

Or romping.


PS: Worst thing about rompers? I know everyone’s said it, but seriously, having to get completely undressed to pee. Pretty much one of the most awkward feelings ever, especially at work. Or basically anywhere.