Well I'm stoked it's Monday. So stoked in fact, I literally sat around all day yesterday doing nothing in preparation to be frazzled and pissed off today. I love that about Sundays. I always go into them with a modestly aggressive to-do list, do laundry, wrap some presents, clean room, but instead opt to lay on the couch watching TV and scanning Facebook until my eyes bleed. I Sandusky'd the shit out of Facebook all day yesterday. I can't help it, that's how I always get on Sundays. And I’m not talking about softcore phone stalking, I was doing my creeping on an actual computer, hardcore. It gets out of control. If you’re my friend, I know everything about you today. If you’re not my friend but have an open profile (THANK YOU!) I know everything about you today. And for those prudes with the locked pages, chances are I found a way in somehow. I’m just creepy like that. When I told myself enough was enough and I was forced to put my computer away, I automatically grabbed my phone and did a quick browse on there without even meaning to, it was intense. I think I need to cool it for awhile.
In my defense, yesterday was a pretty justified lazy day. Saturday, Chris and I got TBOX’d pretty bad. It’s not as dirty as it sounds, it means The 12 Bars of Christmas, which I think was actually the 65 bars of Christmas. I’ve noticed Chicago has a way of choosing the worst names for things. One of the most popular restaurants is called “The Girl and the Goat,” bring in van full of immigrants and I bet they’d be pretty disappointed when they arrived. A long standing restaurant/club here is called “The Pump Room,” yet another great choice. But anyway, TBOX was the most intense Christmas bar crawl I have ever witnessed in my life. It was the sloppiest fest of Christmas clad young adults getting wasted beyond their means from 7 a.m.-2 a.m. Words can’t describe the shit show that was TBOX on Saturday. We arrived around 2 p.m. and found ourselves about five hours behind everyone. Slutty elves were dancing with drunk Santas who were dancing with Cindy Lue Whos who were grinding on the Abdominal Snowman who was passed out in a corner. And it was barely 2:30 p.m. in the afternoon. If ever I’d seen a nightmare before Christmas, this was it. I was no longer mad the creators of this “event” had taken the Christ out of Christmas and replaced it with Xmas. Christ needn’t be any part of this mess.
So we joined the fun. But I like to think we kept it a bit classier than the skank train that had apparently come down from the North Pole. The Polar Express must have gotten a bit off track and just ended up only picking up passengers from the Southside because I saw a lot of boots with da fur and Sox jackets. Chris and I were back at home snug in our beds, while visions of jager shots danced in heads, by probably 9:00 p.m. that night. Start early, end early. Always okay with me.
And here I am. Back at work on another glorious Monday. Loving life. Hope this day drags on and on, I can’t get enough of it already. Yup, just living the dream. Doing what I love, loving what I do. It’s all a cycle. Keep it coming.
