Hi, my weekend was kind of insane. A near-death experience, followed by a complete emotional breakdown, which culminated in spending my Sunday in what can only be described as a carbohydrate hangover. A carbonover? I’m still workshopping it.

My car spun out on the West Seattle bridge and almost broke down in the middle of the lane,  followed by actually breaking down on the edge of the lane. These were two things I didn’t have time for, as I was already late for a pedicure date. I don’t even care what you say, comfy toes are so baller it hurts. 

It wasn’t even until five hours later I realized I could have just gone over the side of the bridge, which is pants-wettingly terrifying. What’s the escape plan for that even look like, fear poop and tears?

Now my car is acting up and I don’t even trust it anymore. Saturday night, the accelerator left me revving my engine as I limped limped past a parked cop car. I didn’t even realize it at the time, but after a very interesting conversation with the Tacoma PD it turns out they don’t appreciate fat dudes in shitty cars inviting them to drag race down a street in the middle of the night. 

My nerves are shot, and I ate so much bread I might never feel whole again. My weight? I dunno, A giant stack of The Exorcist DVDs

The aging asian lady who had the dubious honor of attending to my foot spent a good few minutes holding it up and yelling at the other employee while pointing at my toes. None of it was in english but it seems likely it was mainly “What the fuck, Dan? you don’t pay me enough for his shit.” I got really embarrassed and felt like I should apologize, so I turned on the massage chair and ignored them both.