baa baa black sheep


Peter Brady, You're Sooo Stupid

7:14 p.m.

I lost the Vogue I JUST BOUGHT. And yes, I read Vogue, contrary to what this baggy Royals t-shirt and baggier cargo pants and the current unwashed status of my hair and the unconcealed huge circles under my eyes would lead you to believe.

Shut up.

I also bought a bottle of wine and there may or may not be a huge slice of cake with sprinkles upstairs in the fridge. And the wedding episode of My Fair Brady is on right now, and I may not really be paying attention to this blog because man, that guy who played Peter Brady sure does like scotch.


I'm completely unsure where the weekend has gone. This past week involved a lot of caffeine, a lot of throwing up, work, some random dog climaxing on Monk's HEAD during a walk (oh yes, you read that correctly), and worrying about art. But. Yesterday I finished the majority of what I needed for the upcoming sale, and today I hauled it all to work and spent three or four hours shrinkwrapping and matting and picking out frames. Therefore! The largest chunk of what I need is done, and the next two weeks any paintings I finish will be a bonus. I feel like I should relax now, that maybe I can become myself again, stop worrying about whether or not I will get enough pieces ready. Move on! Instead, I can now worry about the cleanliness level of the house when Justin's parents come and whether or not Peter Brady and this woman are really going to get married.

So um.

I'm going to go watch this.

Here's to another week,
black sheep

PS. Monk was not traumatized in any way. He was actually blissful the rest of the night. (Sigh.)


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