I had work tonight. And then I came home.
I pulled into my driveway feeling so fucking good. I made good money tonight and I was first cut. I was sitting there rolling silverware when Lola says, “Girl, the squad going clubbing!”
I sent a pal a frantic texts:
My will is slipping!
she wants to go clubbing
I’m not going to finish my story by tomorrow
I’m almost out
Torn! between indecision. Thankfully I walked to my car.
I then tore off my uniform, adorned pajamas, brewed some hot chocolate, and read a collection of short stories by Amy Hempel called reasons to live.
Now I’m high and eating pizza rolls, and I’m gonna watch some standup comedy.
SPEAKING OF COMEDY
I haven’t touched on something cool. Three weeks ago I did my first stand up open mic! Tuesday will be my third, and I’m expecting it to be good.
I don’t know if I am good, but it’s fun. And that has me writing.
I’m actually trying to push myself to do open mics as much as possible. Standup, poetry, storytelling, you name it.
SO- some kid at work told me this funny story and I made it into a joke
I didn’t win the powerball…but,
I found 300 dollars yesterday.
In my room.
I was so freaking psyched.
It wasn’t one of those instances where you find it stuffed in the pocket of your winter jacket.
it was very carefully hidden, tucked away,
underneath a stack of books.
Then I remembered,
like, instant replay-
I had placed my tips beneath my books while I was drunk one night
like a little fuckin squirrel
storing her nuts,
making sure that
sober me don’t spend all that cash
i worked hard for those nuts
[I charmed this table of
weasels who said,
from across the room
I AM NOT A FUCKING CHIPMUNK
of those damn
Like, thanks drunk me.
not doing something to completely fuck me over.
CHEERS TO BABY STEPS