On going to Hong Kong, Tibetan pants, and cellulite

Umm, so this weekend my significant other and I sort of purchased tickets to Hong Kong. We were planning on getting away somewhere for a few days before the holidays, but I was thinking something along the lines of California. And technically we will be flying through Los Angeles, so that’s like a spot on guess. Plus an additional half of the globe. Now what had happened was, we received a fairly good deal on tickets that cost a little over $600 each. For a round trip. To Hong Kong. I mean wouldn’t you abandon your children and/or pets and take off? The flight will be almost 24 hours long, so I’m looking forward to a very sour butt, and at least two meltdowns. Other than that, I am really, truly excited. Like I wake up and smile to strangers excited. Like every day at work is just another day closer to Hong Kong excited. Like I stopped following news because I couldn’t care less excited. You get the idea.

I went shopping in mah hood on Sunday. And that involved vintage stores, and book stores, and vinyl stores, and this one store with funny cat socks. So you know, I was in my element. And all these were located in this place called The Little Brooklyn Market. That name alone is adorbes. And I made my first few questionable purchases. I bought myself Tibetan pants. If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, here’s a visual.

Image result for tibetan pants

In my defense, aside from being super ridiculous looking, they are also soft, and comfortable. Also, I feel like saying kumbaya nonstop now.

AND, they can serve as s bonus cat cradle.

It’s all about saving the planet. One cat nap at a time.

Another thing that happened recently is I went to see this lady, for a massage. Not just a massage, but a special anti-cellulite vacuum cup treatment. Just so you understand I have never before in my life went to get even a regular massage. Like seriously. It was just never an option. Life was pain, and we were to suffer through it like true Christians. Anyway, my friend forceful convinced into me the importance of cellulite at our age. Or rather it’s absence.

And I went to see this girl and she was super nice, the whole procedure lasted about 30 min. And it hurt like fucking hell, but I was convinced this is all part of the treatment. Turns out cosmetologists and Christians have a lot in common. I’ll be honest as I was leaving her premises I felt all energized, almost inspired. So I’m thinking:

a) she probably hypnotized me

b) that treatment really was doing something

c) none of the above. life is full of random coincidences. god doesn’t exist.

d) all of the above

This morning, I woke up covered in bruises.  Like badly. Like I can post for victims of abuse poster now. This too I was warned to be normal. And you know, you just have to think, what is normal anyway?

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