lilamysunshine

Oi. I had a massage last night before the show. And it was one of those massages where their theory is, "If we can get that worked out, let's just go ahead and do it." At one point, I actually writhed on the table and squealed. Now, in my mind, that is both an excellent massage, and a horrible experience. I'm quite ambivalent on that. But, after such an experience, one can expect to feel like a rather sizeable pile of ass. That I was expecting. And if after such a massage, one goes and stays out way too late surrounded by way too much smoke while bouncing on concrete for hours, one can expect to feel like an even LARGER pile of ass. I just got up, and the ass feeling has begun.

My efforts at alleviating the assness are picking through and eating the remaining cherries that don't look how I feel and drinking tea. Thank the gods I don't drink alcohol! I mean really. I would probably feel even worse!

I forgot to mention that Scott is my knight in shining armor. Well, he's always that but today it's for making sure I didn't run out of gas last night on my way home. I swear to god my car, like, fabricated .38 gallons of gas out of nowhere which I then had to put into my tank as an offering to the universe over and on top of the 16 gallons my gas tank actually holds. It was like the miracle of Christmas in late January. I could start a religion. But I'm sure the aforementioned ambivalence will stop me.