Tweaking in Class: OOTD Log

It's been one of those days.

Every Tuesday, I have an evening class at the University of Missouri St. Louis (UMSL) in the criminology department. Yay crime! UMSL, located in Florissant, MO, is about a 20 to 30-minute drive during rush hour from my apartment in Clayton. Here's a map to help you visualize.

Not a bad drive, really. So I'm driving along, listening to the album Bloom and Breathe by gates (what else is new) and I get to the I-70 interchange, where traffic is suddenly bananas.

I'll spare you the boring details about construction and the highway being closed but the basic story is that everyone on I-70 was being re-routed to Natural Bridge Road, where I had gotten off to avoid the traffic on the highway.

Except that the traffic was everywhere and there was literally no escape. There was no other way for me to turn around and get to UMSL. It was too late.

It took me 45 minutes to go 3/4 of a mile. I listened to the entirety of Bloom and Breathe, air drumming like a boss the whole time, well aware but giving no fucks about how crazy I looked.

I left my apartment at 4:50 p.m. and arrived in class more than an hour later. And to put the cherry on top of this shit-show sundae, I looked like a drug addict.

Why?

Well, I've been helping out a photographer friend by doing makeup for her photoshoots, and I was practicing a look I will be doing for a shoot this weekend. This look involves multiple shades of red eyeshadow blended out in a giant circle around my eyes. Despite my best efforts to prevent it, the red still stained the skin around my eyes in a delightfully raw, sickly halo, and so I looked like I was straight up tweaking walking into class.

Goin' up on a Tuesday.

The Borrowers Stole My Parsley

So, dreams. Everyone has them. Not the "I want to be an astronaut when I grow up" type of dream, but the "Holy shit a clown is chasing me and I can't run" type of dream. The kind of dream you have when you're sleeping.

Only one out of four of the above things I wrote was actually a sentence. #CreativeLiberty

I have a lot of shockingly fucked up dreams. Like, really weird, inexplicable stuff. But I also have a lot of really hilarious dreams. Let's focus on the funny ones, shall we? The following are actual, unadulterated quotes from my dream journal, dated between 2009 and the present.

My lovely dream journal that I bought in Turkey

"Get on train to Nazi Jew resort. If we speak in British accents, they won't kill us. They like the British."

"America has an obesity problem. You don't want to use the obese bathroom."

"I have to sing karaoke songs that I don't know in a powerpuff girls skirt."

"Tents may be insulated...???"

"Guts round. Round of what? Don't know."

"I switch clothes with a dead girl because I like her wedding dress."

"Jesus stops helping at the end so you need to grill 6 hot dogs."

"I want to wear a top out of the store but the mirror yelled at me to take it off."

"The Borrowers stole my parsley and I need it."

"I hit her in the face with my new Covergirl Lash Blast mascara and it breaks and I'm pissed cause I just bought it."

"The president's dog dies and I have to go to a banquet."

"Mom and I go to Starbucks and I get some coffee thing even though they recommended their new guacamole shake."

"Ryan Seacrest is having sex with our toy pigs."

"Someone has saran wrapped and rolled a bunch of mansions. I am amazed by this feat."

"It is actually a toe penis."

"A lot of partying at this club called HAWT."

"I watched Iggy Azalea perform and ate a steak with garlic fries. The steak was deep fried."

"Man gives dog eggs when he does tricks."

Sometimes I wish Freud were still alive so I could be like, "Hey Sigmund, what does it mean when a celebrity host is having sex with my toy pigs that don't even exist in real life?" And he'd be all, "This represents your unconscious sexual urges toward animals and short men."

Dreams are fun.