This table (an antique around which my siblings ate thousands of meals in Massachusetts) was bound for my brother in San Francisco. Relieved to deliver it to a family member who wanted and would appreciate it, I rented an extra-big car, then shoved/yanked the table out of my storage space. Then the table didn’t fit because big cars still have small doorways and trunk entrances and (even though I measured twice! twice! like the proverb!) the stupid fricking fracking table wouldn’t fit. I reversed engineered the hated table back to storage, then went back to the car place and tried to re-rent a smaller, cheaper car since I didn’t need a STUPID GIANT CAR with tiny entrance points. They wouldn’t and were a little mean about it and the whole experience made me cry! Shit. CONFOUNDED

“I KNOW YOU KNOW”
That’s the title of a started blog post a couple nights ago, after a loooooong evening involving Hot Buttered Rums (I know.) That’s it. Just the title. Such an intriguing start, drunk Becky! Will we ever know the content of that post? CONFOUNDED

People Magazine purposely mis-interprets the phrase “Jon Hamm’s package” and shows photos of him with briefcases and bags, which pokes fun at the hubbub surrounding Hamm’s supposedly large penis and love of going commando and the paparazzi’s intent interest in showing those goods to the world — and I’m confused by People, for the first and only time — did they actually print something kind of sly and funny? Because I laughed a little? CONFOUNDED

[not shown due to boring and annoying]

Two looooong work-related emails from my job job and my regular freelance gig. On a Saturday of a holiday. Please don’t force me to be reminded of work when I’m in the middle of the pie portion of the weekend. CONFOUNDED