Also also...

See, this time the also makes sense.
Recently I was remembering how awesome MS Paint was. Remember that program? It was the coolest.

So I tried to go draw something in MS Paint. But it turns out I have a mac and it doesn't have that program. Luckily the magical interweb had something equivalent called paintbrush. So I totally downloaded it for free and got to work writing Dino a really sweet email, where all my loving messages were enclosed in hearts.

 

It started off well

Only my handwriting looked like a 6 year old's. I swear to god I used to have more skills on MS Paint.

Since my handwriting didn't look very romantic, my messages got progressively less romantic too.

But then I felt bad and I had to reign it in a little.

Oh man. That is gross.
Even I was grossed out by myself.

So was he. I have officially ruined romance with fake MS Paint. Sigh.

Conclusions to be drawn from this:

1. Sometimes you might think you're an artist. But you're probably wrong

2. Writing with a touchpad is like writing with one of those pens they sold at those novelty stores where it vibrates and you think it's funny for all of 4 minutes but then if you buy it you realize immediately that you have just wasted your money because this isn't fun any more guys. (Unless you come up with other uses for your pen.)

3. People sometimes think that artists are romantic. But then you think about Picasso and you wouldn't really want to be painted by him would you? That feels more like a veiled insult. And then when your boyfriend who thinks he's a writer writes a poem about you they are usually cheesy and horrible and you feel a little embarrassed for him and your libido shrivels like a stale raisin. I think the only kind of romantic artists are musicians. One time I sang Teenage Dream to Dino accompanied by my ukulele. It seemed like he liked it. But it might have had more to do with me being dressed in just a ukulele. I can't be sure.

4. Don't ask me for romance advice. My ideas blow.

And also...

I realize that this will appear above the other post I did today, and people will say "Also what? What are you alsoing?"
Rather than answer that question I will tell you that alsoing isn't a word. Stop asking things.

A few nights ago I went to see a movie with my friend Simone.
We were getting some foods and Simone ordered a really fancy overly expensive Pomegranate Italian soda, and I was like "Well that ice looks good. I want some water. With ice. For not $4"

So the dudepants starts filling a little tiny stupid cup with water. And I say
"Um, maybe can you put it in the bigger cup? Like the one that my friend has?"
and he's all
"Nope. Only this cup."
And I in a friendly way say
"Oh. That's really a small cup. I'll pay you a quarter for a bigger cup..."
He says
"No, if I give you a bigger cup I have to charge you for a soda like she has."
"You have to charge me $4 for a cup of water in a slightly larger cup? For reals?"
and he looks at me like I'm the stupidest woman on the planet and says
"Haven't you ever been to a place that inventories cups before??!!"
I said I hadn't and he just put down my water and walked off in a spiteful way.

So at first I was mad because he was a jerk and thiswaterissodamnsmallitisalreadygoneyoudouchebag.
But then I realized that guess what he does for a living?
Gives me water and smells like popcorn and inventories cups.
So I guess I win at life.  






P.S.  Do places seriously inventory cups? As a manager, how do you motivate your employees to do a good job at that? "Now Doug, your job for the 1-2am slot on inventory night is to COUNT THOSE BIG PLASTIC CUPS. If there are any less than 583 you need to LET ME KNOW IMMEDIATELY BECAUSE IT MEANS WE HAVE A BIG PLASTIC CUP SHRINKAGE PROBLEM ON OUR HANDS. I don't want to have to bring this up at that morning meeting where we do weird movie-theater oriented cheers and compliment each other for filling up the butter flavoring machine preemptively, so COUNT CAREFULLY. I'm trusting you with this job Doug. Don't let me down."

P.P.S. I realized after posting that when you post something after midnight it is actually the next day, thus making my title IRRELEVANT because it totally looks like I'm just posting things on totally different days. It feels kind of late for me to be writing coherent sentences. This is what happens when the guy at Medieval Times says "My lady, would you care for some coffee?" and you are surrounded by 3 shrieking children and you think "Indeed, I love coffee and it will improve this situation immensely." You were wrong.

Conversation with one of the crazy kids I work with upon exiting Medieval Times, where there is no light.

Kid: Oh my gosh! It's light out!
Me: Yup.
Kid: So, it's like, it's the next day! It's tomorrow! We were in there all night!
Me: No, we just had dinner and saw a show...
Kid: ...And then we were in there all night! Oh my gosh! We just stayed up all night!
Me: No... we... nevermind.
Kid: Oh my gosh! So now it's tomorrow! It's like we had a sleepover there! Did I sleep? I think I slept.
Me: No, you were awake the whole time...
Kid: I must have slept sometime. Or maybe I didn't. Are we in trouble? We aren't allowed to stay up all night!
Me: No, you're not in trouble.
Kid: Well then so it's morning now! Do we get breakfast?
Me: We literally JUST ate.
Kid: Yeah, but that was dinner. Now it's breakfast time! We just ate dessert! You can't have dessert for breakfast...
Me: Well I guess I'm letting you have dessert for breakfast then. Lucky you.
Kid: But I'm hungry! Breakfast is important!
Me: Seriously? You just ate HALF A CHICKEN.
Kid: I think I'm hungry again though. Because it's morning. Oh my gosh. I can't believe we stayed up all night. This is so great.
Me: Yep. Super great.
Kid: So why is the moon out?
Me: That's just one of the mysteries of life.
Kid: This is the best day.