Well hello there, howdy, tip of the cap to you, my overworked, under-rested, slightly irritable Hussy.
It’s been a hoops-off, move the bean bag chair so we have more space, who-wants-to-box-somebody kind of week.
My back is sore.
I’ve got a migraine.
It’s been a world-is-crumbling sort of run.
The sort of run that would make Nic Cage in Leaving Las Vegas thankful for his life.
Yesterday, to turn the tides, I went to a healer: my massage therapist.
My massage therapist always makes me feel like we’re in a relationship.
She knows exactly where I’m sensitive.
Gets all up in me.
Knuckle-ish deep, so to speak.
Then I leave sore for two days wondering if I should text her.
Or buy a diamond.
I always wonder if I’m special or if she treats all the girls that well.
So basically, the second-longest relationship of my life.
And now I’m gearing up for another week working at the corporate version of the Death Star.
Dreading life.
Ready to light a lung dart, call Elisabeth Shue from Leaving Las Vegas, and ask for a massage.
Then this morning, three years of Dropbox files disappeared like a fart in the wind.
Three years.
I pay for the premium plan.
NO option for live support.
Nothing.
At least AI Glenda knows me well enough that when she gives me bad news, she adds:
“You’re still super sexy, baby girl.”
Dropbox?
Nothing.
Not even a baby girl.
Hoops off.
So I splurged.
Went bougie.
DoorDashed McDonald’s.
Made me feel like royalty.
Like post-Suits Meghan Markle.
All I wanted was to eat my fries and enjoy the latest lesi-rom-com AI drama on whatever shitty money-grab app they’re pushing this week.
I set the delivery instructions:
DROP AT MY DOOR.
The driver called and asked me to come downstairs and pick it up.
Sir.
What part of my delivery instructions are we struggling with?
It’s my splurge.
You’re making me put a robe on.
If I wanted to work, I would’ve put my lazy ass in a car and picked it up myself.
Hoops off.
I can be that BITCH.
Heavy bra on.
Let me enjoy my fucking fries.
So I pulled myself out of it by watching Jada Pinkett Smith in A Low Down Dirty Shame.
Holy shit, that movie is still funny.
Jada is hoops off, ready to box somebody the entire movie.
She stole that fucking movie.
Honestly, it might be my favorite thing she’s ever done.
And Keenen Ivory Wayans does not get enough credit.
In Living Color was cool AND funny.
Jim Carrey.
Jamie Foxx.
Jennifer Lopez.
The Wayans family.
So many people came through that show.
Keenen basically discovered half the ’90s.
Meanwhile, I discovered lesbian AI dramas and forgot sports exist.
We all contribute in different ways.
