let's just cut right to it. i got stuck in an elevator:
with the baby:
when we got out, instead of being on the fifth floor--as i intended--we were on the first floor, and i had to walk up several flights of stairsso as not to get stuck in the elevator again:
it is also the anniversary of the day c.b. and i were supposed to go see louis c.k. live:
it was bad luck that we didn't get to go to the show (although super good luck that sandy didn't really affect us otherwise), but i DID remember a year later that we were supposed to get to see him next time he was in town, and this happened:
followed by this:
and finally this:
no response! despite my enthusiastic use of the exclamation point! i guess the bad luck continues: since i no longer get to do anything past 6:00 pm, even if a new show came to town, i'd probably miss it. bummer.
so, i'd heard that after having a baby, the extra lush hair that didn't fall out during pregnancy would start vacating my scalp:
but, who cares? i've got such thick hair--thought i--that a few thousand won't make a difference:
I WAS WRONG. the horrible luck here is that my hair didn't fall out in convenient areas where no one would notice. NOPE:
i am now the proud owner of a receding hairline. and if that weren't enough, cabana baby has started ripping out fistfuls from underneath:
pretty soon i will be bald. which wouldn't be so bad except that winter is coming, and it's chilly! i should've listened when +virginia warned me not to have children....
but this isn't all good luck, since i JUST finished my maternity leave and had to go back to work. i can't sit around watching it all day every day like i want:
but, since there are only three seasons, i suppose in the end, even that is kind of lucky.
super annoying luck, everyone: someone has been using my pandora account. big deal, right? SHUT UP, IT'S A SUPER BIG DEAL because whoever it is likes:
(and presumably don't likes) music selections. i know what you're thinking. you're thinking, erin, your brain doesn't work, are you sure it's not you? well, skeptic reader, said person is even adding whole new stations:
and you can tell it's not me because of the mispellings. it's driving me crazy!
so if it's you, 'fess up and get your own account. it's free for crying out loud.
i'm hoping that this will be some sort of cinderella tale, where all of my dreams come true:
it all started a couple of days ago when my sister introduced me to this little gem:
it was fate, i tell you! for those of you who don't know, my secret dream has ALWAYS* been to be a singer in a little hole-in-the-wall nightclub. you know, the kind littered with a few alcoholics here and there, a disillusioned detective who is always thinking about the cold case of his kid brother's disappearance, and the low life bookie in the corner looking to collect debts owed him:
unfortunately, my severe allergy to cigarette smoke made this dream impossible. frowny face:
enter scott bradlee, who is in the business of creating this exact look and feel, but without the smoky atmosphere:
that could be me!
so, scott bradlee, it's to you to fulfill my dreams. you have it in your power to provide good luck where previously there was only bad. you could change the world!
*to be honest, the singer dream came after dad dashed my dream to be a nun. apparently, there is no such thing as a jewish nun.
