Friday, January 14, 2011

Stationery ...


Oh ... Hey Radzo. 'Sup.

It's been awhile, huh. Since your birthday party. That was fun! You nursed about eight solid ounces of booze over the course of three hours. I was impressed. I can't do that. No. I'm like: One beer, two beer, and then it is just a blur that probably looks to an outsider as though I am using my trachea as a beer bong. I should probably just dump a bunch of PBR in the food processor with a gas station burrito, marinate the slosh in Lemon Lime Gatorade and dump it in my special barfing place in the front yard.

Anyway, that's the night we spent a lot of time talking about the GoGirl. (I like that it comes in pink). And you know, I still think about that product every couple days. Not that I want to use one. But maybe I just want to see how it works. But not anyone I know demonstrating, you know? Maybe like a stranger with a blurred face. Or some sort of Lego re-enactment.

Anyway, it would have been fun to stay longer. But I can't drink on Sunday because that would twist me into a headlock until what-say Wednesday. And I had a dinner date with the Mister. Oh! I think I was going to pass along the recipe to your unlactose-capable boyfriend, who perked up when I said the word "Vegan." Here it is. Although, be careful. I think if Jamie Lee Curtis knew about kale, she would probably quit Activia. Seriously. (I can DM you about it, if you want).

So ... I don't know. I guess I've just been chillaxin', you know? Reading, like A LOT. Making food. I went to the YMCA a couple times. Overheard a woman in the locker room say to her grandson:

"Hey! I told you! Quit hitting yourself!"

But first she said:

"If you don't get dressed, gramma isn't gonna take you swimmin' no more."

People are so funny.

Anyway, about 12 minutes ago I got jalapeno pepper juice in my eyeball. This happens to me, like, all the time. I knew there was a threat of it happening -- but I'd rather keep how I knew that would happen private, if you don't mind -- and so I washed my hands five times: Twice with Dawn dish detergent, twice with liquid soap in our upstairs bathroom, once with a good old fashion chunk of Ivory soap in the downstairs bathroom. Still, I went in for the ole eyeball pinch to take out my contacts and whoa. Whoa! My eyeballs burned like I'd had face planted into back to back viewings of "Beaches" and "The Notebook."

I wondered for a second: Has anyone ever gone blind from jalapeno juice? What if, when I stopped crying, I'd gone the way of Mary Ingalls. Am I a good enough listener to compensate for going down a sense? Maybe you can help me with this: when your boyfriend found out he was unlactose capable, did he become super tolerant of other foods? Was he like "Uff. No Gouda, for me. But watch me digest the shit out of this Summer Sausage."

It's a thinker, isn't it? Anyway, it's a moot point, as I find myself still visually paired now that the tears have dried.

So, whatev-skies. What have you been up to? How's it going in the new place? How about this new horoscope thing! Isn't that crazy! All of a sudden, Wham! I'm a Leo! How about you? I hope your day is terrif. We should see each other some time. Like ... in person, instead of just over thumbs up icons on Facebook.

Anyway, just wanted to drop you a quick note to let you know that I wouldn't be posting anything on my blog today.

Love,
Chrissy.

2 comments:

Kate Bee said...

"Chillaxin" is not a word I can picture you saying. Also, I may have spit out coffee over the JLC/kale thing. Good stuff.

Christa said...

Ah. But I do use the word. But only in the cheesiest of moments.