Still here

Me again. My friend who lives in Colorado convinced me to stick with a blog to make sure any and all negative thoughts I had came out and went somewhere. She's very smart. What's maybe not so smart? I've spent the majority of this week focusing on a traveling magician from Australia whose in town for the week. Like hard core, analyzing every emoji he's put on social media to get him to fall in love with me. I just want an hour with him and I'm sure we're meant to be together. I'm aware I've gone crazy. I'm 98% sure he's done with me and has already found a new chicky to hang out with. I saw a play tonight with James Earl Jones in it and he's in town for a month so I have lots of time to stalk him. I'm kidding. I mean, not really because it was too cold out wait by the stage door so technically I do plan on going back when I don't have a ticket to see him. Would I rather stalk a traveling naked magician or James Earl Jones? I mean, that's a Sophie's fucking choice. What else what else. My massive clothes/books purge is going well. I'm hanging out with a friend tomorrow whose on February break and rather than doing something cultural and fun and get out of town I'm going to suggest we just get drunk and say fuck it. I'm hoping she says yes and doesn't psychoanalyze my answer. Can't a girl just get drunk? I say that after having three glasses of prosecco. But that's not totally my fault- I was cat sitting earlier and the fucking cat thew up twice. There's something horribly mean and cruel when a cat throws up a second time in 10 minutes. I mean, I'm obviously hoping it's not sick but I'm also thinking it just hates me. So my friend said I can snag this bottle from her fridge and now it's hours after the Tennessee Williams play with James Earl Jones, the Australian hasn't messaged me back on facebook and I'm hoping I don't go to a museum tomorrow because I'd rather get day drunk because I can. Welcome to month 2.5 of unemployment folks.