Drunk.

Day three of blogging. I promised myself when I started this that I would do it everyday, so, here I am, blogging. On day three. I think I can do it, I managed it with my journal for awhile. I said "I'm going to force myself to journal every day," and I did, even when it was entirely unnecessary, like the night where my entire entry was: "Drunk." Actually, I think it was one of my better entries. Quite insightful.

Since I don't really have a good blog topic but I don't want to fall out of the habit so early, I'm going to just write about my day and see what comes of it. I woke up this morning and did a bunch of stuff that I now forget probably involving coffee and showering. At some point I decided that dressing would be a good idea if I wanted to emerge from my apartment at some point, which is about when life became difficult, mainly because yesterday I decided that laundry was not worth my time. A fine decision, but it didn't leave me with many options as I stared into my closet.

I eventually decided to wear a black skirt, but, due to recent weight loss (new apartment with hardwood floors + socks = incredible calorie burning dance parties + many new bruises) combined with no discernable source of income, most of my clothes are a few sizes too big, and this particular skirt was already a size bigger than needed because I bought it on sale ("cheap over-sized clown skirt...score!"). So, it almost fits (read: can stay up...kind of), but not quite enough that I couldn't guarantee that if someone decided to pants me they would meet even token resistance.

Although I've never encountered anyone trying to pants me, even when actually wearing pants, it's an important daily consideration, because I know the first day I don't think about it is the day I'm going to be the victim of an unexpected pantsing. You may be thinking, "What would be the point in attempting to pants someone in a skirt?", to which I say, "Good point." But the Boy Scout in me likes to always be prepared, even when I'm not quite sure what my hypothetical assailents motivation could possibly be (fine, you caught me, I wasn't actually a Boy Scout, but the Brownie motto, "Lend a Hand," has never once helped me avoid an embarrassing pantsing).

After much cost-benefit analysis of my outfit, I was finally ready to hit the world . And I'm pretty sure some stuff happened there. Ooh...there was cake at some point, cake that I ate with my hands off of a paper towel, which I think just makes it more delicious because it was all like "Haha, you can't eat me because you don't have plates or utensils" and I was like "Think again, m.f." Actually, that cake probably explains the coherence of this post, cause my blood sugar is a little wonky now. Totally worth it though, if only to show the sucker who's boss (it's me, by the way, I am boss).