Me: “We have a wedding in DC July 2nd. Mark your calendar.”
Eric: “Oh, so we’ll be in DC for July 4th?”
Me: “Yeah. We can do fireworks at the mall!”
Eric: “Why, do they have a good mall there?”
Me: “I’m not sure if you’re serious.”
Eric: “Mall of America?”
Me: “I’m nervous.”
Eric: “Great Mall of China?”
Me: “What is happening.”
Eric: “Mall and Oates?”
Fairly confident he doesn’t know the mall I’m referencing, and is just trying to change the subject.
I pull the hood of my puffy coat over my head, whimpering in the cold.
Eric: “There ya go! Warm now?”
Me: “Ugh. No. My eyes are still watering and freezing. I need a hood that covers my ENTIRE face.”
Eric: “That’d be perfect actually.”
Me: “Why? So you don’t have to look at me?”
Eric: “Are you kidding me? I LOVE looking at you!”
Me: “Awww…babe…”
Eric: “It’s listening to you that’s hard.”
When you’re on your couch but on a group text with a guy at the Phish concert and a guy streaming said Phish concert.
My New Year’s resolution is to care less about what’s happening on social media.
Like, share, and tweet this if you approve!
That moment when you agree to go to another Phish concert. On Saturday.
I kind of get it.
😳🐠
Tonight I am attending my first Phish concert ever.
Eric: “Your only job tonight is to embrace what’s around you, and if you’re judging, judge silently.”
Me: <Long, confused stare. Wondering if he knows me at all.>
Eric: “Ok, fine. Judge out loud, but only to me.”
Deal.
So it turns out that the detective skills I employ when I come across a suspicious rug stain in my 4th grade classroom (re: blame the shady, smelly kid– I didn’t see him do it, I didn’t hear him do it, there is virtually zero proof he did it, but come on just LOOK at him! He’s so smelly!) are the same exact tactics employed by our U.S. criminal justice system when indicting for murder.
And I didn’t even have to pay for law school!
#winning
Is it weird that when I booked this urologist appointment on ZocDoc, in the “notes for the doctor” section I put a link to this blog post?
On a side note, everyone in this waiting room is approximately 106 years old. And male.
Pretty sure we’re all Jewish, though.
Eleven days ago I had a biopsy done because my doctor saw something that looked, as he so eloquently and not at all alarmist-ly put it, “less than impressive” (what every woman wants to hear from a man staring up-close at her half-naked body…but I digress).
Since then, I have spent 11 days googling and thought-spiraling myself into a diagnosis of about 568 different versions of cancer. (Are there even that many kinds of cancer, you ask? Well, the answer is YES, if you count all the varying combinations one could have. Because some people have ankle cancer and eyebrow cancer at the same time, guys). So in the past week and a half, I’ve been having pounding heart palpitations, shortness of breath, sweating profusely, plagued by nightmares, and overall haven’t been able to relax. At all.
My doctor just called and everything is completely fine. The results were 100% normal.
So clearly, there’s a lesson here.
If you make yourself sick enough with worry and completely destroy your mental health (and the mental health/patience/will to live of those around you) for 11 solid days, God will say “Ok, everyone here has suffered enough” and reward you with a clean bill of physical health.
So YOU’RE WELCOME FOR THE ADVICE.
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