A Really Big Hat

Two days ago I accidentally scared poor Beau half to death. We watched Nick & Nora’s Infinite Playlist which was infinitely cute and enjoyable and incidentally put me in a terrible mood. Mostly because it was 9:30pm on a Tuesday night and I wanted to go have an adventure in which I too find Jesus at a drag show instead of putting on my big girl panties and going to my cubicle in the morning.

So I grumbled and was put to bed early and the next day I wrote Beau a lengthy email apologizing for my funk and explaining that I was fine, I just wanted to quit my job and join the Peace Corps so he shouldn’t be concerned. Leave it to Beau to worry about some innocent little comment like that.

After talking me down from my proverbial ledge in his I-Am-Diffusing-a-Bomb-and-I-Know-Better-than-to-Cut-the-Blue-Wire tone by promising me things like puppies and magical powers and bars in Key West, he told me it’s time we took a vacation. Much like a Labrador, the key to keeping me from going berserk, ripping up your favorite pillows and peeing on the carpet when you’re not home is to let me out in the backyard for a solid romp. I have to be tired out before I can be expected to sit still without causing trouble (or hung over but I’m much whinier then). So Beau is letting me off my leash for a week in May. I’M GOING ON A CRUISE BITCHES.

I will now procure a pirate’s hat. Effective immediately, I will begin referring to myself as Commodore Dangerous K and respectfully request that you do the same.