Let's start with announcing the winner of the You Are Not Your Brain book giveaway. Since I completely forgot. I used Random Number thingie and it was.... #5.
Which means nothing to you unless you are....
Lost In Idaho!
WOO. Imagine I'm flashing boob right now. It's like an awesome second prize. Woot. So I'll send you an email, get your deets and I'll make sure you get a book.
Now, let's talk about weirdos.
So on Sunday my friend Tammy wanted to go see a band called Hairball play in Bayfront Park in Duluth. Apparently, Hairball is like, the ultimate in 80's tribute band. I've never seen them and she bought us tickets and it was a nice day and yeah. I went.
(Mostly because I'm an 80's fan. Previously in the closet.)
Obviously, at some point I knew I had to pee. Some of you who know my in real life know I have a thing about bathrooms. I really have high standards for a bathroom. I have something kind of awesome coming up with this, but for now, let's just say I do my best to avoid things such as a Biffy. Or a porta-potty. Whatever it's called where you are. It's the like plastic cubicle basically outfitted with a bucket, some hand sanitizer if you're lucky and a plethora of sexually transmitted diseases. I won't even go into the horror that is the smell of such cubicles because if you have a small lung capacity, asthma, or any other thing that would make breathing difficult- it's best to just pee your pants. But since I don't have these, I had to do it.
And it was as bad as I ever thought it could be.