why i suck at being a girl: part 1, my affair with couch

right now i'm unbearably bitter that i'm not on the fun bus to Wendover.
i just ran around the house at top speed getting ready to go so i wouldn't be late. this is reason #1 why i suck at being a girl.

usually my plans start off great and i have a schedule mentally prepared for when I'm going to start getting ready for the night. Despite my history of failure I'm always unusually optimistic about being ready on time.

I am never prepared for the s*** show that hits me in the face.
I'm unsuspecting at first, just walking into the living room to get my purse, when I'm greeted with this:


and I know it's been a while since i had a good bonding session with couch, so I start to feel guilty that i haven't napped with couch in over 2 months. so then I'm all:

and i run to couch like we're long lost lovers who somehow are both the only survivors of the apocalypse and are now destined to repopulate the world with couch babies. then this happens:


and i lay on couch and forget about clock. then clock gets all up in mine & couches grill & is like "stop"

and i'm all embarrassed i got caught with couch, so then i sullenly walk into my bedroom to choose an outfit and i get the 3rd degree from bed:

and i'm all "we have bigger problems on our hands" because i now have 2 minutes to get ready.
then i'm all:


then i'm all sweaty because i just ran a mother flippin obstacle course around my house trying to get ready in world record time and then I lay down with in the hallway under the air conditioner with my pants unzipped and my shirt pulled over my head because suddenly my house is 154 degrees,

and despite all my efforts, it always turns out like this: