In my last blog, I mentioned that I bought my suitcase from Ebags. They just sent me a coupon. Coincidence? Depends on if you believe in coincidences.
Like when you call a friend and they’re like, “Oh my god, I was just about to call you!”
And you’re like, “Sure. That’s probably a lie but maybe not.”
(And an extra five days in Prague. But Prague doesn’t make for as exciting a headline.)
On Thursday, I’m going to Paris and Prague for 10 days–with side trips to Champagne and Dresden. My goal is to take a large purse and a small carry-on bag. That’s it. Some sacrifices will have to be made, I’m sure.
I’m tempted to wear three layers of clothes on the plane.
Is that a suitcase between your legs, or are you just happy to see me?
The suitcase I got is actually pretty neat. It’s the Mother Lode from Ebags. Lifetime guarantee. Pretty turquoise color. And because good things come to those who wait, I managed to snag a 20% off coupon when I bought it. It’s a little pricey, yes. But I’m convinced that having nice luggage is one of the hallmarks of being an adult. One of those little boxes you check off as you approached 30.
I may not know what I want out of life, but dammit, I’m getting there in style.
Real advertisement from a Victoria’s Secret email:
SEXY FANNY PACK. SO SEXY. FANNY. PUT YOUR CHANGE IN IT WHEN YOU GO YARDSALING.
Do you want to experience what it’s like to be a man and have some junk bouncing around your thighs when you run?
Do you lose things unless they are physically strapped to your body?
Do you want to be sexy and keep your loose change handy at the same time?
THEN SHAKE YOUR WHAMMY FANNY WITH THIS VICTORIA’S SECRET FANNY PACK.
…Actually, I do kind of want to bring the fanny pack back. See who my true friends are.
You know how sometimes, when you’re alone at night, you can’t stop thinking about the inevitably of death or how you could have a brain aneurism at any second and oh god does your chinchilla have enough food and water to last until somebody finds you?
Right? We all do that, right?
(Filmed at my old, old apartment.)
I realized that the true meaning of being an adult is just adding alcohol to all the things I drank as a kid.
Did I drink coffee as a kid? Maybe in, like, seventh grade.
I keep half of my alcohol right in front of the knives, because apparently I don’t understand safety.
That’s it. That’s the secret of adulthood. Being an adult is hard, but the universe has given us fermentation as a way of coping. As a child, you don’t need alcohol, because you have mystery and imagination. But 21 is around the age you graduate from college, which is about the time you realize that the world is difficult and your dreams don’t matter.
Hazelnut liqueur tastes great in hot chocolate made with vanilla almond milk!
I don’t know about you, but I tend to use my Gmail drafts folder as a digital post-it idea wall. I also have a real post-it idea wall; however, I am not always near this wall. On occasion, I do leave my home. (Even though I did not do this today. It’s cold. No judging.)
So potential posts, info about literary agents, blog ideas I want to pitch… they all end up in the drafts folder. I’m generating ideas like gumballs pouring out of a broken machine. But. I. Just. Can’t. Get. The. Ideas. Out. Of. Drafts.
Maybe if I buy a box of Girl Scout Thin Mints and keep the cookies in the freezer. Then every time I post a blog, I get a cookie. This could work. IF I JUST KNEW SOME PRE-TEEN GIRLS.
Also, Thin Mints are officially vegan now:
GIRL SCOUTS ARE DIABOLICAL MARKETERS WITH THEIR TINY FINGERS ON THE PULSE OF THE AMERICAN COOKIE CONSUMER.
Deep in the back roads of Virginia, there exists a place, unbound by the laws of time and nature. That place… is Dinosaur Land.
Dinosaur Land is one of those roadside tourist traps. Except that I traveled there specifically. It was a destination, rather than a whimsical spontaneity.
As a kid, I definitely went through a dinosaur phase. I could name so many dinosaurs. I watched all the documentaries. I had dinosaur toys, plush animals, books, and a deep and abiding love for the Power Rangers.
My favorite dinosaur was the Pterodactyl. Because it was a dinosaur AND it could fly. Unlike all of those land and water jerks. Pterodactyls were like the unicorn-pegasus creatures of the dinosaur world.
(Before we go any further, I feel I should inform you that a portion of this blog was drafted after imbibing some ginger moonshine. Ginger moonshine, you say? That is a blog post for another day. Literally. It is.)
If you go into Dinosaur Land expecting fine artwork and an elaborate and historical set-up, you will be disappointed. If you go into Dinosaur Land expecting weird, old statues of dinosaurs–and other unexpected creatures like human-sized cobras and bear-sloths–that you can laugh at and take pictures with, then you are golden, my friend. Go forth.
FYI, I reposted this on a new blog too. 4/26/15