Today I woke up with one hell of a queasy stomach. I called in sick from work, and shuffled my way to school in time for CME, and managed to luckily catch Sarah and Ari on my way out to give me a lift home. My stomach's still pretty iffy... fortunately Tom's on his way here with diet clear soda and saltines for me to chew on. The idea of pretty much anything else is making me gag. Even pasta, my go to comfort food? Blechhhhhh...
So I've parked my little tuckus on the futon and I realized all this other crap I need to do. I have to figure out StaceyAnn's bridesmaid dress situation (there's a store downtown, but it's kind of a crapshoot if they actually have the dress for me to try on), clean the kitchen (when I'm comfortable enough to be vertical) and scrounge around for a single quarter in order to throw in ONE freaking load of laundry. Oh, and my checking account is terribly innacurate, give the massive amount of money I'm sure I spent in Portland on this stupid audition. And I understand it will pay off eventually next year, but STILL. Casey: broke and sick. And busy! Unfair!
This must be what it feels like to have one of those business associate jobs where you have to bring your laptop to the Carribean paradise where you're supposed to relax and STILL keep in touch with your coworkers. Luckily, barring some sort of tragic accident, I'll only know this feeling on my sicky days.
And now I'm off, because, as it turns out, "What I Like About You" is not the hilarious romp of a syndicated show that I thought it would be. Give me a "Friends" episode I've seen ten thousand times before any day.
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