I suppose I better do this now…because the rest of my day is filled with awesome.  In my life-before-the-new-old-job I would have already written at least a draft…but today?  Today is raw.  Today is unedited.  So today, I’m not even going to make excuses for grammatical flubs.  They happen.  Just like farts and strange noises that echo from your insides. Noises that I still cannot figure out how my body creates.  I already know the why.  It’s to be an ass.

Anyway, my day of awesome is basically my birthday party, three weeks later (thanks to the new-old job requiring my presence the last two Saturdays).  My mom is taking me to a spa…yay, massage!  And you can bet I made sure to “spiffy up” this morning because no one likes to have to deal with…how shall we say?…A “situation” (and nothing like that dude from Jersey calling himself “The Situation” or whatever name he’s bestowed upon himself because I’m damn sure his parents didn’t look at his newborn ass and think, “Oh…wow.  Isn’t he just a little situation? A Situation! It’s perfect!”).

Where was I?  Right.  Spa.  Then? Oh, wait.  Before the spa Tim and I have a haircut appointment.  THEN the spa and finally, dinner at some Italian restaurant my mom has been raving about.  After that, Tim and I will probably come home and collapse.  These days I can barely make it to 9:00pm.  It’s an embarrassing set of circumstances.  I’m 27 and like to eat dinner super early and have quiet time and then go to bed just like the blue hairs.  They are so on to something with the whole early to bed…

But first, I promised last week that I’d actually give something away today (or was it yesterday?).  My mom has this knack for “games” like this.  I mean technically, it really isn’t even a game.  It’s just luck.  But she always wins.  Like, the time I was in elementary school at a weekend school-sponsored carnival thing where you pick rubber ducks from a pond and they all have colored dots that equal a prize, a cake walk in the cafeteria where you’d almost fall on your ass from the force of sliding into a seat to stay in the game and then said seat sliding four feet to the left on the polished tile floor…and at the end of the day after we were all sticky and stuffed with sugar and had butterflies and spiderwebs painted on our faces and hands, they had a raffle.  And one of the prizes?  A stuffed Batman.  And I wanted that stuffed Batman more than anything.  Truthfully, I have no idea if I wanted it for me or if I was feeling particularly generous and wanted it for brother Jeff…but I wanted it. Period.  My mom always says, “You have to believe you’re going to win.”  As in: Use the Force!

Which, again, your number getting pulled is totally random…but apparently believing that the raffle ticket drawer will pull out your name is enough.

The long and short of it?  We so went home with that stuffed Batman. 

Except…I’m pretty sure it was Jeff’s number they drew, not mine.

Apparently The Force wasn’t with me that afternoon.

It did, however, settle within me a few years ago at a bridal show thing.  I was with my mom, who we all know always carries The Force when it comes to drawings, and during the end of the event, they started the raffle ticket drawing for things like gift baskets and free nights at hotel chains.  Names kept getting called for all the awesome prizes, though it was never my own. I had pretty much resigned myself to winning nothing, then right before one of the last prizes were awarded, my mom yells out, “It’s gonna be your name this time!”

And who does the ticket-drawer call out but my name for a free hotel stay.

I shit you not.

So, may The Force be with whoever the random number generator thing selects.

[[Commercial break so I can go and actually figure out the random number thing]]

[[It requires math skills.  So that probably means Tim should help do it for me]]

[[Begin really annoying googly-eyed money wad Geico commercial]]

You know, there were only 27 comments for my first-ever giveaway.  Which? Kind of sad.  Also? It really shows that booshy is on a massive down-slide.  But, slides are kinda fun, so whatever. I’ll roll with it.  Since I’m finding that the mass population never really reads what I blab about, I can really let loose and say whatever the hell I want.

Which is also usually totally random. 

Tim has dubbed it Jessica-speak.

Anyway, the random thing gave me a number.

Yay number 17!

And # 17?  # 17 is…wow, universe.  Sometimes, you’re entirely too weird for me. 

# 17 is my long lost twin with whom I share both a name and a freakish imaginary friend, Bartholomew.

How is THAT for scary random?

Congrats, Jess!!!  You now own an awesome, whistling chick wearing cowboy boots.

(That is so weird.  It’s like I just won my own giveaway)