For the past month or so, I haven’t been sleeping well (with the exception of the weekend before last). This has been especially prevalent on weekdays which isn’t great since I need to be mostly alert at work.
In a moment of desperation, I took an Ambien last Tuesday night because I just really wanted to sleep for more than two hours at a time. Yesterday, I received a few unexpected items in the mail.
A FNL shirt, a waterproof camera, and a knee pillow to sleep with. Guess when I ordered it? At 2:14 a.m. in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. I was originally confused as to why on earth I would purchase these items, but I guess my subconscious is gearing up for a summer full of underwater inquiry, my back hurts, and TIM RIGGINS. Upon further thought, I realized that if someone image mapped my brain, a huge portion of it would look like this:
I think I just really want to be a mermaid with Taylor Kitsch. Maybe I’ll start working on a series of mermaid romance novels with an environmentalist framework. The plight of the mermaid is real and dramatically romantic and Taylor’s hair would look glorious underwater.
I also learned this week that it’s hipster cool to like Billy Murray. Um, WTF? When was it not cool to like Bill Murray? Has he ever been out of style? He’s a national treasure.
I recently had the pleasure of learning that telling an employee older than you that they are under no circumstances allowed to talk about their sex life during work hours (regardless of where we are physically) is the most awkward and terrible conversation you can have. It’s dramatically worsened when you have to explain why it’s not okay.
IT”S NOT OKAY. EVER. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
I don’t know why everyone is making so much fun of poor Leo. Just let the man dance it out and relax. Sleeping with supermodels will exhaust and old fella’.
Those first six seconds are like looking in a mirror. Some people have moves and some us. . . don’t.