Last night I tweeted this:
And then this:
And I realized, as you do when your back is out and there is not much else you can do, that I am grievously unprepared for life.
I will explain, as my train of thought usually makes more sense to me then it does to other people. Especially when I am on pain killers for my stupid back, which aren’t working and subsequently my back is not working. At all.
But I digress.
Preparedness for life, as according to me (101):
I don’t own tap shoes. Or ballet toe slippers. Which means that there will never be a moment that I can just put either of them on and be an instant impresario. Which of course I would be. It has already happened in my head too many times to count.
I don’t have proper head shots for when I am discovered and become a famous actress. Although this one seems less appealing the older I get and the more I know about what celebrity lives are like under the constant microscope of the media. I’m thinking now, maybe ten minutes of fame would be great, and then no thanks.
I am genuinely disappointed when I think about the fact that I can’t just call up someone famous that I’d like to have dinner with and just have dinner with them. Carrie Fisher, Jennifer Weiner, Charlize Theron (but only so I can explain to her that we are long lost twins, as we have the EXACT same birthday), Bradley Cooper, Kevin Smith. The list goes on. But I think you get the idea.
Anyway, my back is seriously out today, as in, I’m going to the hospital now in search of help, hope and a better class of painkiller. Because this is seriously the worst pain I’ve had in a long time.
Which is another way in which I’m unprepared for life. I have no fall back for keeping myself distracted while under severe pain.
Cross your fingers for good drugs, folks. When this all gets better, I’m going to have to make myself an emergency life kit that will have tap and ballet shoes in it, chocolate and Bradley Cooper’s phone number.