In Which I Should Probably Know Better By Now

I see one more golden opportunity. I see one last shot at redemption (thanks, Paul Simon!).

It's pretty Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, but this is what's essentially going down: Museum of Science and Industry (I can't bring myself to use the abbreviation, MSI, for obvious reasons) is selecting three people to live at the museum for a month and document their experiences. All they want is a video, a 500 word essay, a head shot, and something else, I think. Not like I have shit to do in October. But they have to pick me right? I'm cute (most days), articulate (most days), just awkward enough to be relatable (all days) and funny as hell (all days). They have no choice, right?

The catch: no after hours visitors, and no smoking on the museum premises. This will make conjugal visits and downtime very interesting.

I'm really excited, but at the same time, I realize that I'm still crying from the last time I was excited. I'm keeping this on the low, and I will do a better job of keeping my excitement in check.

So, that's the news from Lake Michigan, where the women are stong, the men are good-looking, and the children are going to be alright.

That was a really poor A Prarie Home Companion homage.

But to my new goal, I say you wanna dance? Let's dance, douchebag! (rips goal's heart out of chest, then takes a bite, smearing blood on face)

It's on!