—My hairdresser, whom I paid and tipped
I’m doing a show! Come! (If you want to. No presh.) ((But I’m just wondering why wouldn’t you want to? Like, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I get that. I’m just curious, I guess. But, whatever. Be who you need to be. Even if that person is a jerk face I’m not friends with anymore starting now.))
I’m going to be telling a story at Yum’s the Word next week. The line up is AMAZING. Christian Finnegan, Baratunde Thurston, Robin Gelfenbien, and little old me. Can’t believe I’m sharing a stage with folks like this!
"Hey! What do you think you’re looking at? A fully grown woman openly weeping at the slow jams section of a Katy Perry concert? Well then, you’re thinking correctly. As you were. And can you share your Prizm Vision glasses when you’re done with them? Sheesh! How many times do I have to think-ask?"
(She did generously share her Prizm Vision glasses in the end. Just goes to prove that you shouldn’t believe everything you hear about seven-year-olds.)