Whaaaa!

What a weekend. You know you're on the rocket car to dork town when you find yourself excited about the prospects of spending the evening listening to NPR's Wait Wait! Don't Tell Me and Say Anything and doing laundry. In my defense, at the end of this laundry party there's my girl Rhea, a Homemade pizza, and a bottle of wine, but seriously folks this has been a doozy of a weekend. Friday I realized that I double booked my two part time jobs. The realization of that fact at 8 in the morning nearly sent me into a panic attack. Now, a normal person would probably figure it out and THEN inform all nessiary parties of the outcome. But instead Hilary, who is the current head of our film department and to whom I am the assistant (Job #2!), got these wonderful  batshit crazy emails from yours truly:

Email One 9:53am

Hilary,

I did something really stupid.

I'm on the work schedule at my other job for 2:30-6 today and I didn't notice until now because I am an idiot. I am calling the other people at work to see if someone will cover. If someone can't cover for me I have to go in. I will fix this. I am so sorry. Between this and the flyer mixup I feel like an jerk. I promise this will be the last "thing."

Chris


Why am I so self depricating? It's like. IN CASE YOU DIDN'T NOTICE I AM A F*CK UP

Email Two 10:10am

Please disregard my former message of incompetence. I will see you at 3pm. Should I be there early to help organize? I get out of class at 2:15.
I'm sorry about that email, sometimes I get anxious when I feel like I put things out of my control.

Chris

So what exactly am I doing here? The email is 20 mins later, when Ginevra said she could cover my shift. (thank you thank you thank you degerotype goddess of my heart.) Why couldn't I just have waited to send the e-mail. It's like my first impulse it always to FREAK OUT instead of say...considering the actualities and true nature of the situation I find myself in. 

So the event that I had to go help at that night went fine. The rest of my daylight hours were spend in Migrane hell in the dark UNTIL I felt alot better and decided to go spend the rest of my night hanging out with Jeff at his place. So I descended from my apartment, only to discover that...

My bike got stolen. 

The bike that was my moms and that I loved forever is no longer in my possession because some ass decided to cut through my chain and take it. I called the police and filed a report but I am just like UBER bummed about this whole event. 

I can't even type about it I'm so friggn' distraught.

That being said. If I find the individual who took my bike I will make them rue the day learned to ride. By breaking their legs. kidding. kind of.

Saturday was better, I worked at Scribbles and had some beers and good talk with friends who I hadn't seen in a long time.  

Which brings me to where I am now. Listening to NPR and drinking smartwater.