Mitchell says I don't blog enough, and since last night proved that I do whatever he tells me, here's a blog.

All my bags are packed; I'm ready to go.

Sarah is covering me, sort of, while I'm gone. This means I will no longer have to listen to my boss mumble under her breath. She does this all the time, talk to herself. I have an inner monologue, but it's inner. As in "No one else hears what I am saying to myself in my head."

She doesn't seem to get this concept.

I'm in Vancouver this weekend, where I shall remain whisk-less but protected by the fact that I'll be in a high-rise. If I were to be in a horror movie, though, it would be on Saturday Night when I'm at a gala in high heels that look wildly inappropriate for day to day life. Picture this:

I hold a glass of wine in my hand, laughing softly at some joke one of my companions has just made and I'm ready to engage in our patented witty repartee when all of a sudden, the lights go out. "It's just a breaker," someone calls out. "They'll have it fixed in a moment."

It'll rain, because it always rains. There might be thunder and lightning but probably not. Eventually, someone will try to leave because the dark makes people of all ages uncomfortable, whether they admit it or not. That's when they'll find the doors locked.

Me? I'm still frozen with my wine glass halfway to my lips. That's when the first scream erupts from somewhere on the outskirts of the crowd.

See? Horror movie waiting to happen. I'll ditch the heels and run like hell to the nearest window. I don't want to have to be in a sequel.

I can't remember the last time a serial killer stalked a gala, though. Maybe I'll be okay.

To Do To Day:

1. Stop at the bank
2. Stop at Shoe Store
3. Pack last-minute articles
4. Give you hell?

Post after this detailing exactly what I've been watching/listing to lately.

For Music Monday!

I'm choosing a song I love for the first download. If you don't have it, you've been living under a rock. I don't like things that live under rocks.

Manchester Orchestra - Golden Ticket

This song is probably the second song I heard by Manchester Orchestra that stuck with me. It's gorgeous and lonely and haunting and it makes my heart ache in a way I didn't know my heart could ache anymore. 

Theme days

I think I'm going to start theme days in this blog. Maybe it's time for Trashy Tuesdays.

Salty Sundays
Music Mondays
Trashy Tuesdays
Weird Wednesdays

If I can think of more adjectives for the rest of the days of the week, I'll let you know.

For the first Trashy Tuesday, I'm going to go on record as saying that I love cheap booze. The cheaper and sweeter it is, the happier I am. My absolut (see what I did there?) is Martini & Rossi champagne. Mix that with some gatorade and vodka? You're fucked. Boone's Chilled Wine. It's about $4 a bottle, and it's great for playing drinking games. (Or really awful, depending on what movie you're watching.)
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Salty

Cheating is really low, d-bag. I hope you get crotch-rot and your crotch, get this, ROTS OFF. People like you make me want to live on an island.
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I kind of can't believe the last few weeks of my life. I managed to book flights to New York for about the same price it has cost me to go to Vancouver. I'm going to love being there twice in May. 

My Vancouver trip is coming up very shortly. It's a busy schedule, it always is. Friday is an event at an art gallery and Saturday is a fundraising gala somewhere else. I have my first LBD. Tomorrow is the search for shoes and a clutch. Maybe a wrap. Probably a wrap. I don't think it'll be that warm in Vancouver. 

And now, I sleep.