additionally. . .

1. I think the best thing about being home is lying naked in my bed after I take a shower. Seriously. Babies must feel excellent the first few hours after they are born, when they are rinsed clean of amniotic fluid and then swathed in clean linens. If I could spend eternity in a certain time, it would be in those first few hours.

Of course, I would probably be confused. And unable to speak. And bald. And guys, I can't pull a Britney and still look good; I think my skull has a dent in it (I tumbled down the stairs twice as an infant. . .I like to think that's when my life of danger and adventure began).

However, my skin would be very supple.

However no one of interest would notice my supple skin because all the boys around me would possess fewer communication skills than that hawt jock whose butt looked so good underneath the Friday night lights, but who also scored an 11 on the ACT.

I'd say this is a classic conundrum situation. . .let's leave this issue unresolved. Much like the chicken and the egg. (Except obvs the egg came first, let's be real here)

2. My first day back in town, I went to my place of refuge: TARGET!!!! Sometimes, I go to Target to calm down if I'm stressed out, or to stimulate me if I'm bored. Some might call me a shopoholic but that actually isn't true because I don't actually buy things. I just like to wander around and try on shoes. Basically, I'm like a popular 13 year old girl who wanders around with her group of other popular girls being loud and acting like they are the shit because they own a Coach purse, (when in reality, it's totally obvious that they were dropped off by their Mom and that Coach purses aren't even cool anymore) except I'm not 13. Or popular. Or do I do this Target therapy with friends. But, I mean it's whatever, I don't care if the 13 year olds judge me. Actually, I don't know, sometimes they are intimidating. If they are doing their giggling thang in the boot/heel aisle, I will cautiously drift past it towards the flats aisle, all casual like and stuff, being careful not to make eye contact. I know that I can drive and vote. But mob mentality can kill people y'all. Just look at the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

Anyways though, this first day, I actually did buy stuff. And I walked out of there feeling like a total workin girl (the type that gives out 5 dolla hollas in the backseats of minivans, not the type that works in New York as a stock market analyst) because the cashier guy was definitely shifty-eyes about my purchases: thigh high stockings, eye liner and fake diamond earrings. Gahhhhh why must high class call girls wear what I wear. . .