Want to know something shocking?
I’m really busy this week. Like, I actually have plans. With other live human beings…
I don’t really understand how it happened but somehow I’ve tricked other people into thinking my company will be a fun for them to have and we’ve planned on hanging out together.
Of course what these unsuspecting people who have agreed to spend time with me don’t know is that only this weekend I took a couple shots of whiskey and then proceeded to wreak havoc on everyone and everything around me. I told someone that I had a “thing” for one of his friends (which could be true but at the same time, my ability to comprehend my own feelings is not what I would call trustworthy and I’m not sure I even recall what this person that I apparently have a “thing” for looks like), I lost my favorite beanie, I had an extensive conversation with my lyft driver about how certain I was that I was going to throw up, and I found my phone charger at the bottom of my stairs the next morning half-crushed but still somehow functioning.
Now, you may be saying, “your phone charger is still working? Sounds like a successful night!”
And, yes, that is a good point and I’ll take it. But, even though I’m patting myself on the back for only crushing a trivial part of that electronic device, I have to say that I may not be the best person to take out for a night on the town.
Still, I somehow have gained invites to not only a couple happy hours and ice skating adventures but also a bonfire at a coworker’s house.
But instead of being excited about being recognized as a worthy member of society, I’m focused on one thing and one thing only.
Chocolate chip pancakes—and getting them into my mouth. Like stuffing so many into my mouth that I can’t even speak. Or breathe. I just want to get pancake’d out.
And I’ve been like dreaming about this. In a way crazier than normal way. Like in a I can’t think about anything else at all and just want to lie in a bed of giant pancake glory and eat my way through to the middle and then add whipped cream and just soak in syrup sort of way. And that sounds kind of sexual which is totally gross but it’s what I want!
And I know this can’t be healthy (especially since I’m lactose intolerant and whipped cream isn’t exactly on my let-fly list) but it’s totally included in these insane fantasies!
So, I brought up the idea of making them at this bonfire and you know what? The idea wasn’t immediately thrown out. I’m not sure why these people continue to humor me, but I’m not going to fight it and now pancakes are on the menu for Friday!
But, instead of this making things better for me, I’ve completely lost all ability to focus. I’m at work just typing away and trying to get things done but in the back of my mind there are these stacks of pancakes just floating around and I want to just jump up and scream PANCAKES but I can’t, because that just isn’t professional.
AND may I add that I am not sure I even really like these flat carbohydrates all that much. Like, I can’t even remember the last time I had an actual pancake. So what happens if I finally get to consume these flapjacks and they’re not nearly as fluffy or sickenly sweet as I’m imaging? What happens then?
Then I’m stuck at this bonfire with coworkers and I’m going to have to act like everything is all okay when inside, I’m totally broken!
Obviously I am not ready for the responsibilities that come along with being invited to things…