Petition to get Misha Collins on Whose Line is it Anyway
I HAVE NEVER REBLOGGED SOMETHING S FAST IN MY LIFE
Hey so it’s been a while.
(Sorry, Tumblr, I’ve been cheating in you with Pinterest.)
Anyway, this is an update, for anyone who bothers to read.
I work most days, getting enough of Soho to last me several lifetimes. (I guess at least it’s not Midtown?) There is no end to the dumb questions (how’s your outdoor seating? Is it hot? “Well, it’s the same as where you just came in from…”), or unexplainable actions on behalf of tourists (trying to enter via a. forcing their way through the bushes onto the patio or b. the door to the apartments upstairs. Which has no sign, unlike our door.) Work is work. It has lead to some incredible calluses on my feet and a never ending stream of complaints about guests who don’t obey out bys, force their way onto the cafe, call and don’t listen, ask me multiple times which location we are (despite me answering the call with our location), etc, etc. Moral of the story: get out of the service industry as soon as possible, or better yet, don’t enter it all.
In other news, I may or may not have an ulcer, so that’s cool. I’m waiting on an appointment later in the month to help shed some light on some gnarly persistent heartburn and pain that’s been sticking around since mid June. Whatever it is, I want it to be cheap and easy to take care of. Because all I can eat is bland, bland food - lentils and rice and sometimes yogurt and that’s kind of it. I miss food. I love eating. I miss cookies and ice cream and tomatoes and cheese and peppers and alcohol and caffeine (I can’t have chocolate, coffee, or tea!) and citrus. I want to eat everything and drink everything but i tried to say fuck that and ended up almost vomiting on the sidewalk on east 54th.
So, whining aside, I’m sick and it sucks.
On the brighter side, today we bought a vacuum. A real, working vacuum. Steph and I are very excited. If I was typing this from my computer, there’s be a gif here of confetti and dancing and sheer excitement. I can’t wait to vacuum the carpet in my room - in my closet, by the heater, under my bed! Only if you live on your own could you be excited about a vacuum. Or if you’re me. But still. A vacuum! It’s going to be gloriously clean and allergen free up in this bitch. Oh the pain of living with wall to wall carpeting. Someday we’ll upgrade to an apartment with hardwood, but for now, we’ll make cookies to celebrate the arrival of a fancy Dirt Devil.
No one wants your answer to “how have you been?” to be “honestly, bordering on miserable.”
Tonight at work a guest approached me and asked me what I do when I’m not at work. She said something along the lines of “so, what kind of artist are you? An actor or a musician?” And then told me, and I quote, “we (referring to her husband) thought you were a cellist. We though, doesn’t she just look like she might be a cellist?”
It was very flattering (which I told them) but it was also one of those strange and creepy moments where you realize that other people do the same weird things as you, in this case, thinking about what other people do with their time.
Faux pockets are an abomination. If you’re going to bother putting pocket flaps on something, add the G-d damn pockets.
And make the pockets deeper, you soulless bastards.
You know what’s attractive?
EVERYONE REBLOG THIS
On average, men’s pants have about 6 inch deep pockets.
IT’S 2013 AND WE STILL DON’T HAVE PANTS POCKETS EQUALITY
PANTS POCKETS EQUALITY!!!
The older I get the more I realise there are no grown ups and nobody knows what the fuck they’re doing.
true fucking story
this fucking french presentation is going to put me in the ground. i might actually cry when i get up there, because I really need a good grade on this, and its supposed to be fucking memorized, but I havent been able to even think about it until tonight, like an hour ago, because both my partner and I have been working all week, including today, and now were trying to write it and collaborate via email and text message.
and there is no way in hell this is going to be a. 6 minutes long and b. memorized.
I’m so worried i’m going to break down in class. And please lets not even think about my last test from tuesday and my final grade in this class. My fucking gpa is going to plummet.
netflix is the single worst thing to ever happen to my productivity.