"Well, I'd love to stay and chat Olivia, but you're a total BITCH..."

Ugh. Monday. I hate when people say “someone has a case of the Mondays.” Yeah, idiot. We’ll all seen Office Space… The only thing that could be equally as bad is when the Coffee House Radio Station (the XM station that plays all acoustic remakes of songs, for those of you who haven’t heard me rant continually even though none of you care at ALL about this since my 2nd day of being employed by a Dr.) plays that “Manic Monday” song, slowed down to like ¼ the speed it should be sang by the most manic depressive sounding hipster who will never sell a CD and probably still smokes weed in his parents basement at age 50 for amusement, EVER.


For those of you who know me pretty well on the surface, because apparently I'm told it doesn't get much deeper than that, haha, it was a Redbull Monday – which means what? You guessed it, I was out entirely too late last night having a great time…(I blame the person I rode with that threatened to leave me there…haha) but that’s oddly routine for me to stay out too late on Sunday. The tragedy here, is that I was doing SOOO well the last month about making sure I left by like 11-11:30pm, but these past 2 Sundays, I’ve barely managed to be asleep by 3:30am. Weird phase of the moon? Probably or I'm totally not giving you all the details…Another odd development, I willingly watched sports and let the guys around me discuss it and get all grunty and excited about it without complaining TOO much and by that, I mean I focused on my own reflection in the mirror across from me so I didn't care either way. I’m getting soft. That’s all there is to it.


The best part of this weekend was ………….Daylight Savings time (you so thought I was gonna say something else! We're fighting) Getting to hangout at O’Dowd’s with peeps an hour later was kind of awesome. I was surrounded by GREAT company-- I was the perfect level of booze-infused Lou, that tequila whooped up on me Sunday morning, and can honestly say, it was a great night.


Here’s the epiphany part. (I’m sure you’re on the edge of your chair now and by that I mean wondering why you are even reading this…) I’m………actually genuinely happy with the direction things in my life are headed right now. I’ve met some awesome people, I have a great group of regular friends as well, and I love the things I’ve been doing. Even class is starting to bother me less. I’d prefer to work less and hangout all day in a hot tub somewhere, sipping on an ice cold glass of Moscato and not get up til noon, but that would make me “the materialistic bitch I really am” and “unmotivated to stop being so henious” so I’m gonna stick it out for another…40 years or so, I guess. Hah.

The one thing I would change? I would see the people I adore and rarely get to spend time with, A LOT more…(Natalie, Nikki, GG, Max Janey, Whitney, Brandi, etc…) and probably enjoy more of those small moments where you sit back and think “God, these/this person is awesome. I should probably tell them/her/him that more.”


That’s probably about as insightful as I get on a Monday. While composing such mindless rants of a bitter woman splendid dialogue for you people who don't have shit else to do with your afternoons avid fans (all in reality, just me 1.5 of you…) my gay called – his question, for my birthday do I want one really expensive bottle of champagne or a bunch of really cheap ones? Anyone who knows me (and how materialistic I can be notice I keep pointing that out?…) I OBVIOUSLY chose – a bunch of small cheap ones….that way I can have a wine party, have all my biatches over, and drink until we can’t feel feelings. That’s right, I’m pretty much Mother Teresa reincarnated. Love me. ~K