The Ballad of Me and My Brain

Doctors distribute meth so that people like me can find their socks.

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1. The path is not always straight. 

2. Mistakes need not be fatal. 

3. If you’re going through hell, keep going. 

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Oh, what a tangled web we weave.

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We got some midseason action shots today... my kids are fashion. 

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Making me an internal auditor probably wasn’t the best way to go. My report is seven pages long. There’s a lot of italics. It’s... too much. And I wrote it. 

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So the internal audits begin with a portion where the auditor (me) sits down with the head of the department and says “Okay, please tell me what your job is and describe what your department handles.” I shouldn’t really have to tell anyone that’s supposed to be the easy part. NOPE. Purchasing tried to tell me they’re not responsible for contacting vendors (?) and then tried to tell me their process for disqualifying vendors (you know, the ones they dont contact) is to sometimes do it but other times not, it really depends, but they’re not sure what criteria they use. 

We ended the event with our token angry Ukrainian man standing on his chair and reenacting a conversation he had with China on the phone about a part, but for some reason in this particular reenactment both he and China communicated through chicken noises. That was their big convincing argument to not have to do things the right way. 

Somehow I have to write that in an official report and make it sound like I wasn’t tripping on acid during the entire audit process. Good luck to myself. 

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We’ve got an inspection coming up and thank god we’re handling it properly.

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We’re very professional here (as you can see by the way I sit at my desk).

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I hope the roof flies off and you get sucked out into space I always make such expensive mistakes I know it’s just a number but you’re the eighth wonder I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color

I’m really excited my 2004 alt-pop phase never has to end. 

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Mood. 

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A boy who stalked me in high school sent me a PDF of a four page screenplay with no prompting or context and then sent me this series of messages. So that’s my life now. 

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Current jam.

I was so skeptical but this is a great modern cover of Donna Lewis (the original has a chorus like crack but the first few lines sound like a baby bird is warbling them... and I don’t really like for my pop to warble). 

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I always check to make sure I’ve brushed my hair and am wearing pants before I leave the house, and I wish I were kidding.

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This precious gift of a woman sent me a thank you note for helping her prepare for a big deal thing at her job. And she mailed it to my office, so I would get it in the middle of the day when chances are I’d be stressed and annoyed. 

If you’re not jealous I’m really not sure what you’re thinking. 

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“You know it’s so weird, I’ve had it for years and it’s not even wilting...” 

Sometimes you just have to break the tough realities to your kids. 

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I have absolutely no idea wtf this means but I’m with it.  

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Oh, what a tangled web we weave...

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Let’s do a show about weaving a web, I said - and let’s actually literally weave a web. Let’s put slippery 15 yard long silks on the floor so that all the children can fall down, because children falling is fun*. Let’s make staging a show more difficult, because it wasn’t hard enough before. 

I’m ridiculous. I can recognize that. But there’s no stopping the show design once I start putting it together in my mind. Sorry kiddos. 

At least they’re having fun? 

The judges better appreciate this shit.