I woke up too early this morning because of the gardeners. You know, the funny thing about the gardeners is they only come once a month but they always seem to come on the one Saturday I would have really benefitted from sleeping in from. Like, usually by Friday I am beat and I stay home. No joke. If my twenty-two year old self could see me now, she’d be like “Damn, when did you go from champ to gramps?!” And I’d be like, “Hey twenty-two year old Marissa, wait until you actually get a fucking job that doesn’t involve folding clothes and requires you to get stoned & use your brain & wrists all day and THEN we can discuss how immature you were to pass judgement on a hard working American blogger.”
But last night I actually went out. I saw The Black Apples and Harlem* and got so plastered I misused “ambivalence” in a text message. This morning, I would have really liked to sleep in but instead I had to deal with weed-wackers outside my window and I’m one of those once-I’m-up-I’m-up sort of people so I was like whateverrr I’ll just look at bullshit on the internet for awhile and then start working on my summer mix some more and then I remembered this song.
I’m not sure how I acquired this song since I don’t have Sunflower on my computer and I’m too stoned to remember if I got it from a blog… ohhhh right right rightthhttt wow, weird, it was some Naturalismo post coincidently about Harlem. Speaking of Harlem & getting back to that asterisk, * I was really “whateverrr” about their live performance and then it was so crowded with what looked like children(?) that I was like UGH I’M GONNA GET PIZZA, which was delicious.
Pizza is a thousand times cooler than children.
I’d DIE if I was in a room full of pizza.
I would most definitely explode
either from eating
or from unbridled enthusiasm.
Both as likely as coming upon a room full of pizza.
