The Past Month-ish According to Instagram

I know I've been a bit off the grid lately.  I can't even remember everything I did.  Yes, it's because I was drinking.  Luckily, I documented some of it on Instagram, so let me get you (and myself) caught up.  Behold the poorly-lit beauty of my Instagram feed, brought to you by a cracked iPhone 4S.  Still kicking after almost three years!  I really need to invest in an upgrade...

End of July:

I got back from visiting my sister in Chicago.  Chicago's amazing.  I maybe kind of want to live there.  I shared a video with you and took three weeks two days to unpack.  I took some Instagram pics which I intended to turn into a blog post but my typing fingers were sore from so much texting writing the next great American novel.

First week of August:

My friends celebrated their first wedding anniversary with an official reception, which was spectacular but also reminded me of what a spinster I am, which in turn got me to rediscover binge watching Absolutely Fabulous self empowerment and stuff.

Second week of August:

I rediscovered Fruity Pebbles (also part of the self-empowerment plan). 

I cut my hair.  Why?  Because I felt like it.  My hairdresser told me I'd never get laid with short hair.  I asked him, "Is that a promise?"  We then continued to argue about feminism, politics, and motorcycles for an hour.  I think he and I might be soulmates.

I got called a slut by a sign at a bar.

I went to Outside Lands and fell in love with Tom Petty all over again.

My niece turned one and is already more accomplished than I am.

Third week of August:

I ate blue Sour Patch Kids, which brought me toward enlightenment.  For about five minutes.  Then I just got heartburn.

Your forgot to wish me a happy Left-Handers' Day.

Robin Williams died.  It got me and the rest of the world thinking about mortality.  I cried.  It must have been the tipping-off point for me of something, because I found it hard to get out of bed and put on clothes for a while.  Sometimes you get in a funky mood, and no matter how much you try and shake it, you have to roll with it for a while, you know?  I consulted my horoscope for advice, and it basically told me I'm screwed.  I'm better now, thanks to some very funny Instagram feeds I've been following.  Astrology can suck it.

A dear long-lost friend came to visit from France, which cheered me up immensely.  I reminded her how we party here in America.  She seemed grateful.

Fourth week of August:

I went to see SNL's Sasheer Zamata perform stand-up at The Punch Line.  I laughed and laugh-cried and got drunk on absurdly overpriced cocktails.  I didn't realize a two-drink minimum was a real thing.  

Omid is leaving me for London, so we dressed up like Spice Girls to celebrate.  I told him the pacifier was a bad idea.  He told me I was a bad idea.  Tessa looked like a knockout like always.

Seattle friends came to visit, and the Giants won 13-2 for the occasion.

Fifth week of August (Is that a thing?  I don't know, I've lost track):

The sun came out to play in San Francisco.  I got sunburned.  Don't worry, though: it's foggy again.
I also hung out in the Marina, but please don't tell anyone.

The countdown to Omid's takeoff continues.

Things are busy.  Good busy. I hope they're good busy for you too.