Fell asleep last night while reading Bridget Jones’s Diary. Dreamt of suitcases with wheels. And stuff.
I don’t know what is more embarrassing… the fact that an old movie ticket stub fell out of my wallet for the cashier to see as I paid for my lunch or the fact that I actually paid to watch Magic Mike.
I’m watching Misery. Now that I’m an author, this movie has taken on a whole new level of creepy.
So… I was just contacted by a designer. He has asked if I would be willing to write a two minute monologue for the intro to his fashion show that is built around a mental asylum. Evidently, he read my novel and enjoyed some of my disturbing/morbid scenes. In addition to VIP passes to the show in Nashville, I will receive recognition. Not going to lie… this is both awesome and random!
I was getting ready in a rush this morning and ripped my dress shirt. I looked in the mirror and asked myself, “Really? Who does that?” Then I waited a beat before answering, “Hulk in a hurry.”
Side note: I don’t know my own strength…and I ruined my favorite shirt. Happy Wednesday.
I wasn’t aware of this, but apparently I get REAL southern when I’m angry. I mean, all traces of correct grammar and phonetics go out the window. I reckon you just can’t escape your roots, y’all.
This morning, I noticed the baker at the donut shop looked like Emma Watson (even with sleepy, 7 am eyes and an irksome expression). I was in a great mood and wanted to be nice, so I said, “Excuse me, but I just wanted to say you look strikingly like Emma Watson.” The girl stared at me like I was dumb, so I added, “You know, the actress?” She snapped, “I know who she is.” I felt so embarrassed that I just took my order and left. I mean, I think Emma Watson is one of the most beautiful women in the world. I guess she doesn’t though. Whatever.
I was going to Instagram a picture of the high school cafeteria pizza I just ate, which I dipped in ranch dressing, but I had eaten it all before I realized it. So, I thought I’d just tell y’all about it…. It was good.
There are 3 tattoos that I really want:
(1) “we accept the love we think we deserve” right above my heart
(2) a small compass with 4 points on the side of my foot with “not all those who wander are lost”
(3) a row boat on my rib cage with “so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past”
Will I get these tattoos? Probably not. But I am determined to get a tattoo if I’m published. It’ll be the symbol for the phoenix bird with the quote, “I am; I will be.”
Odd things happen when I have a beard. Like I get saluted by strangers and randomly patted down for security checks.
Apparently, I listened to Ryan Adams' “When the Stars Go Blue” a total of 124 times last night.