peeing in public, nudity in public, and a recap of my weekend that might not be in english because i’m so out of it that i’m basically blind but also vegas

I’d like to start by telling you that I’m so exhausted and so hungover and so sore that I think I might actually be dead. Like, really really dead. Like, rainbow dead. Like, this blog post might not really be happening because I might not really be happening because last week Jamie thought it was okay to go away for FIVE WHOLE DAYS and when Jamie isn’t here there’s no semblance of order in my life and I eat too much butter and I lay on the floor in the middle of the apartment and also I drink a lot and on top of the butter and the drinking and the laying on the floor this weekend was also the weekend of Bay to Breakers here in San Francisco and if you don’t know what that is it’s basically a drunk costume parade that’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen in my entire life even though I grew up in NYC and those crazy fuckers do pretty much anything.

This event though. It’s a little bit like Halloween except we started at seven in the morning and seven in the morning is too early to be doing anything which means it’s definitely too early to be taking shots of Jager while trying to turn a table skirt into an actual skirt while also eating a muffin. And then after the shots and the muffin and the turning a table skirt into an actual skirt we joined the parade of people in matching costumes and individual costumes and big group costumes and kegs and tequila and people with backpacks full of frozen beers (us) and nudity (not us) but seriously so much nudity and you basically just walk across the city getting drunker and drunker and I even saw people that were so drunk they were having sex against a tree in the middle of a park. Also I saw a lot of people peeing. Peeing on the side of the street, peeing in the grass, peeing on each other, peeing in the bushes. Yes, I peed in the bushes. And now my legs are covered in thorn-like scratches. Actually I think the scratches are from when I had to climb into a tree to pee. Or maybe they’re from when I had to break into a motel room to pee. I don’t know. That was before the bushes though. It was a really long day. You’re welcome for the chronological pee timeline.

But now the weekend is over and I’m dying a slow and exhausted and very dramatic death and it’s freezing in this apartment and all I want is for there to be a fire in my fireplace and chicken noodle soup on the stove and a hot tub on the patio and I know, I know, one of those things is much harder to achieve than the other two things but really it’s not because getting a log for the fire or soup for the stove are both totally impossible seeing as how I can’t move even a little bit at all which means I’m definitely not getting soup and I’m definitely not getting a log and I’m definitely not getting a hot tub even though a hot tub is the one thing I want the most in this world. It’s also the one thing Jamie wants the most in this world and we’re sprawled across the couch whining about it in our Snuggies and we’re so dead and un-fun to be around and someone just help us and save us and bring us a hot tub already. Or like, someone just agree to not judge us when we put bathing suits on and climb into the bathtub together as a substitute. Only kidding. We’re too dead to get up and put bathing suits on.

Is this what the plague feels like?

I think this is what the plague feels like.

I can’t believe I’m going to Vegas on Thursday.

Commence the one with all the death.

It’s been wonderful knowing all of you.

SORRY MOM