my phone gives me zits and other complaints
True story: my phone at work gives me zits on my chinny-chin-chin. Yesterday I developed a nice bruiser on my left side; today I was sitting at a different desk and a new one began festering on my right. It's a dilemma! What should I do? Wear a headset? (I guess I could do that, although I get headaches from them - I feel like my head is being constricted and my ears are being squeezed by a tiny, black boa constrictor).
Among other complaints, I could list my growing grievances concerning zits in other locations (primarily on the sides of my face where my phone also happens to touch my skin), my lizard patch that frequently flares in my elbow-pit, and even my ingrown leg-hair. But since that is personal information, I think it would be best to keep all of those goodies to myself (after all, I don't think I want anyone checking out my legs just to see if a) I have leg hair, and b) if it is ingrown (how awkward would that be?).
Besides all of that, I could complain that I am running out of chocolate chips (this is also a sad story, although I think I will tell it a different day... 72 oz. bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips + 7 weeks + Jessica = a story that deserves it's own blog post/tribute/memorial. Sigh. Good times). I could also complain about my general awkwardness (yesterday I rocked the awkward-post-nap-grogginess-stage. Today I was a wizard with awkward silences. What can I say? I'm a natural).
I could also complain about time and the fact that I'm pretty sure I have no idea when or how I will get everything done or why I am even doing it or where I am even going. It's kind of exciting and terrifying - I feel like I'm hurtling along after being shot out of a cannon (or even a bazooka) and I'm just waiting to slam into a brick wall or a building or something of the sort. I don't want to crash - I just want to slow down enough that I can see what is happening and where I am going. But oh well. Bring on that brick wall! I'm gonna burst right through it!
Despite my zits and my brick walls and my ostensible awkwardness, I honestly and truly don't have anything worth complaining about. Life is unique, and therefore worth celebrating, even if I don't have any chocolate chips to eat for the occasion.
Among other complaints, I could list my growing grievances concerning zits in other locations (primarily on the sides of my face where my phone also happens to touch my skin), my lizard patch that frequently flares in my elbow-pit, and even my ingrown leg-hair. But since that is personal information, I think it would be best to keep all of those goodies to myself (after all, I don't think I want anyone checking out my legs just to see if a) I have leg hair, and b) if it is ingrown (how awkward would that be?).
Besides all of that, I could complain that I am running out of chocolate chips (this is also a sad story, although I think I will tell it a different day... 72 oz. bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips + 7 weeks + Jessica = a story that deserves it's own blog post/tribute/memorial. Sigh. Good times). I could also complain about my general awkwardness (yesterday I rocked the awkward-post-nap-grogginess-stage. Today I was a wizard with awkward silences. What can I say? I'm a natural).
I could also complain about time and the fact that I'm pretty sure I have no idea when or how I will get everything done or why I am even doing it or where I am even going. It's kind of exciting and terrifying - I feel like I'm hurtling along after being shot out of a cannon (or even a bazooka) and I'm just waiting to slam into a brick wall or a building or something of the sort. I don't want to crash - I just want to slow down enough that I can see what is happening and where I am going. But oh well. Bring on that brick wall! I'm gonna burst right through it!
Despite my zits and my brick walls and my ostensible awkwardness, I honestly and truly don't have anything worth complaining about. Life is unique, and therefore worth celebrating, even if I don't have any chocolate chips to eat for the occasion.
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