it is hard to write on bread

i am currently blow drying a loaf of bread. and spray adhesive-ing a bag of potato chips to a piece of cardboard.

i think i'm starting to lose my mind, seeing as i spend about 10 trillion hours by myself everyday. i've recently taken an interest in testing the United States Postal Service to see just what i can get sent through the mail. While at RISD i managed to get a plastic rat, yarn sandwiched between a 5" x5" piece of clear plastic tape, and a roll of toilet paper, just to name a few.

above would be pictured what the lucky recipients will be receiving, but blogger is being a bitch.

you would be seeing: a half loaf of bread, with the exposed inside part painted white with gesso (where the blow dryer comes in) and on the white is written "IT IS HARD TO WRITE ON BREAD".

the potato chip bag is flattened and says "I EXPECT THIS TO BE DISPLAYED PROMINENTLY IN YOUR HOME OR OFFICE."

this could only happen to me 1

if something totally fucked up and bizarre is going to occur, it's going to happen to me. i seem to have a magnetic force field that draws weird shit to me. and, true to form, about 5 days after getting to Brooklyn, i had my first "occurrence".

thursday afternoon i get a frantic call from my mum, telling me that CVS had just called her to tell her that a NYC office building had called them and said they had one of MY prescription bottles. wtf???? my mum said they had left their number with cvs and that i should call them. so i call this mystery office building, which turns out to be Bayside Urology in brooklyn (don't worry, the prescription in question was unrelated to the urologist, my urinary tract is just fine thanks). though the office was in brooklyn, they were in fact, almost two miles away, in an area i had NEVER been to....again....wtf???

so i call and ask about the prescription, which turned out to be a full bottle of my prozac, filled just a few days before.

on monday, my mum had sent me a package, with my prescription i had forgotten at home, and my favorite yoga pants. the date on the prescription bottle at the urologist matched the same date of the bottle my mum had sent me.......

the package my mum had sent me, had apparently been stolen en route to my apartment. someone had torn up the package, STOLEN the YOGA PANTS and LEFT the PRESCRIPTION medication, because clearly yoga pants have a MUCH higher street value than prozac.

but like for realz, wtf, who else would that ever happen to but me? no one. definitely no one.

sadly, i had to purchase new yoga pants, which are a satisfactory replacement. but nothing will truly replace my love for my lost yoga pants. rip, grey yoga pants. you will be missed.