Life update: Weird itches and NaNoWriMo

I’m sorry I haven’t blogged in three months but – BUT – BUUUUUUUUUT, please allow me to make up for that with an embarrassing story of my own stupidity.

1. Two weeks ago, I sat down on a treadmill while trying to wrap a present (long story) and then broke out in hives ten minutes later. By hives, I’m not just talking about the small red ones. These are the big angry ITCHY ones that sprout all over your body and make you scratch enough for people to think that you have a goddamn disease. I first tried to get rid of them using hand cream. Surprise, surprise, it didn’t work. So then I went to the office first aid box and found some (just a few months expired) lotion that was supposed to help with rashes and insect bites so I rubbed them happily all over my leg. It did work for a little while, but when I look down a few minutes later, MY ENTIRE LEG WAS STAINED YELLOW FROM THE LOTION. I looked like a freaking extended family member of the Simpsons from waist down. I rushed to the doctor’s during lunch and here was how the conversation went:

Doctor (writing on my patient card): They look like allergic reactions or bed bug bites. Did you eat anything wrong or sleep in a different bed? 

Me: No, but I sat down on a treadmill. 

Doctor: You sat on a treadmill and…? 

Me: I broke out in hives. 

Doctor (stops writing): Are you trying to tell me that you broke out in hives because you’re allergic to the treadmill?

Me: It happens…right?

As it turned out, no it doesn’t happen and the doctor assured me about seventy-five times that I didn’t have an allergy to treadmills OR exercise OR sweat and that there was no need for me to avoid exercising for the next ten years. Bummer. I was sent home with a prescription for bed bug bites (apparently bed bugs live everywhere, even on exercise machines) and the understanding that I am a huge gigantic dork.

2. Also, I tried participating in NaNoWriMo this year. For those don’t know what that is…go google it. I’m too lazy to explain. My aim was to write the world’s bestest most fucking awesome novel in A MONTH and win the Nobel Prize for Literature next year or the year after, but as it turned out…well, it didn’t turn out anyway. I couldn’t hit my goal for 50k words. I managed to go up to 30k+ before realizing that my story was shit and abandoning the project. Since then, I’ve been an utterly unproductive potato and finished all four seasons of Game of Thrones in four days. I’ve also considered the prospects of leaving my job and getting myself a sugar daddy to pay for my student loans but I’m having difficulty find a man that doesn’t need me to A) Sleep with him, B) Or Meet him, C) Or ever talk to him and D) is willing to transfer me endless supply of dollars through an untraceable account for my efforts in doing nothing. If you know such a man, please contact me at my blog email. Thank you.

Quick question for anyone who sees this: were your 20s such a big disaster too?




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