Since early November, my camera has been missing. It was a small point and shoot, nothing fancy but I really liked it and it took good pictures. The day after Christmas, I bought a replacement, having gone through the entire holiday season without a single photograph to document the festivities. I don't much like the replacement, which really bummed me out.
I had lost the perfect camera.
Last week, I found it on my bedside table. Under a box of kleenex, a jar of body butter, and a stack of receipts from a trip we took a year ago. My utter disgust at the condition of my bedside table really took a lot of the joy out of reuniting with my lost, beloved camera. The one that has been sitting a foot from my head for two months.
I threw away the receipts, cleared off the table, even sprayed some furniture polish. And tonight, a new pile of papers had reappeared.
I am clearly just a few weeks away from being featured on Hoarders - if only for the state of my bedside table.
Worried that I might discover a mummified cat amidst all of this crap, tonight I was making a desperate attempt to clean my bedroom. For obvious reasons. While I spend an inordinate amount of time encouraging, directing, and forcing my children to clean their rooms, I should really shut my big mouth and worry about my own room. I know this. I do. I get it. I am a slob. My mother will tell you all about it. So will previous landlords. I have an issue with clutter. I hate it, and yet I create it. I don't just have a junk drawer.....I also have a full sized junk suitcase. It used to be a junk box - but I ran out of room.
So tonight I sat down, determined to sort, toss, file and shred my way to inner harmony.
I should have just bought a vibrator, smoked a joint, and called it a night.
Because as I was going through the stack of papers on my bedside table that had reappeared in just a few short days, I was forced to see the written record of my recent antics.
Just the list of receipts alone was enough to give me pause.
-Popeyes fried chicken. Purchased en route to the airport after dropping off my teammates. I spent $20 on mashed potatoes, red beans and rice, and biscuits. Carbohydrates, anyone?
-Strip Club. The receipt was good for a free drink. But I was much too busy bonding with the strippers over our shared love of leg warmers and vagina glitter to have a drink. Besides, I was the designated driver.
-Car Rental. There were no bodies in the trunk when I dropped it off. I totally made sure of that.
-Airport Bar. $17.00 for a bloody mary that I had to drink in 5 seconds because I got moved to an earlier flight.
-Starbucks. Man, was I drunk after that bloody mary.
-Victoria's Secret. What can I say - the strippers inspired me. My purchases were heavy on black lace and leopard prints.
Toy Store. Some toy that makes a noise like a whoopie cushion. I'll take two!
Convenience Store. Tylenol PM and water. I was grateful in the morning.
Grocery Store #1. 2 cases of peppermint chocolate soy milk on special. What can I say. I have issues. And also: Bacon.
Grocery Store #2. Roast pork from the hot bar. Roast turkey from the hot bar. Tortillas. Don't ask.
Grocery Store #2, revisited. Two hours later. Because I didn't actually look at my list last time, I just sort of stalled out at the hot bar as you can see. So I had to go back. When I went back, they were sold out of the hamburger I needed for dinner. But I did get some more bread to help me eat more triple cream brie. And I got the veggies I was supposed to get in the first place. I am sure I'll have more on my list by the time I get back there tomorrow to try to buy hamburger for the third fucking time. Of course, i cannot guarantee that I will actually CHECK the list. But I'll have one.
Ross Dress for Less. Ross is hands-down the most ghetto store on the planet. All of their bras look used. And half of the boxes are filled with a completely different item than what is on the packaging. I mean, what is in the boxes doesn't even fit in the boxes. I have no idea why they bother re-boxing anything. Just sit down on the floor and eat some of those stale cookies in the "gourmet food" department, and give it up already. My friend posted a video about Ross tonight, and it is so, so true.
And right there is where I stopped reading the receipts, and just wadded them up into a ball and threw them in the trash. Whatever. Steal my credit card numbers. The accounts are all maxxed out now anyway, on account of the strippers and fast food and 3 trips to the grocery store in 5 hours. I could probably just tell the company my card got stolen and they'd believe me. I mean, who in their right mind would actually buy all that crap?
1 hour ago