Vomiting is the best form of humor I’ve decided. Nothing makes people giggle more then a good story about a vomiting and accidental peeing of the pants adventure.
Glad to be a source of good cheer dear fellow.
But honestly, good golly, I’d swear there’s little men in my body just having a hey day switching those spark plugs in my brain on and off. But I digress…
The last week was a fabulous one. I visited the majestic city of Chicago.
When I was there I was surprised because I felt fabulous 95% of the time, a record for the last couple of months! We’ve decided it’s because Chicago’s at 500 ft above sea level, (much closer to sea level then where I live) and this makes me wonder if going and living my dream of settling off the coast of Oregon would be a good game changer for us.
One of the days I was on my own because my dad was preoccupied with conference calls and such so explored it on my own.
We were on the magnificent mile, and for those of you who aren’t Chi-town savvy, it’s one mile filled with shops, one sign said over 600. (most of them were in a mall.)
I went camera crazy visited an Episcopalian church which was absolutely beautiful, I meditated and digested it’s beauty. I had a good 4 hours to myself with no problems till I stopped for a bite to eat. I ended up at Jimmy Johns. I remember ordering, paying, and then all of the sudden I was across the room holding a soda cup, and I was waiting for my sandwich, when I realized it was already in my hand.
I have NO idea how I got there or how I got my sandwich. That’s when I knew I best be heading back to the hotel.
I called my brother and stayed on the phone with him to make sure I was back to normal, then headed to the hotel room as fast as I could so that if I were to lose time again I’d be at least closer to the hotel.
I can handle a lot, But man the whole losing time thing freaks me out, it’s like a bad acid trip without the exciting colors.
The plane trip wasn’t half as hell-ish as we suspected, I was very thankful for that. I only felt like dying during the major changes in altitude. I’ve got to admit I was disappointed my pacemaker didn’t set off any of the metal detectors at the airports though. Such a bummer, I love being suspected as a terrorist.
More and more people have suspected me to be a bad girl since I chopped of my hair and colored it a dark brown almost black color. I have better street cred now, little children cry and run away when they see me. I’ve been hit on by a lot of dudes with tattoo’s which I can’t say I’m opposed and I’ve all of the sudden get more perks at the music venues. Here I’ve been going for years and stuck out like a sore thumb as a cutiesie little preppy chick and all of the sudden because I look like I’m the type of girl who hangs out in alley ways with needles in my arm they adorn me with respect and free merch. Who would of thought a change in color would do so much for a girls persona. Maybe it’s not the hair and just the fact that they can now sense i’ve been schooled in the back streets of Chicago on how to be a real woman.
I’d say ‘don’t mess with me I’m dangerous,’ but I’m pretty sure my hair and wicked street cred says that for me.
