Mental dares

I'm gonna tell it to ya straight: I'm tired. Not a complaint! Just a statement. A STATEMENT. God, can't people make statements anymore without getting the third degree?

I've spent the last few days writing about the UK's upcoming pension reforms and my brain hurts. Learning new things—who knew it could be so hard?

Anyway, I'm dying to get in bed, sip some Tesco's Finest Peppermint Tea (in a posh mesh bag) and crack open a pack of purple Skittles. They've been burning a hole in my pocket for three hours.

So I'll keep this short and sweet (kinda like how I like my men? haha?).

The other day I read about a man who was sentenced to six years in jail for punching a hole through an £8million Monet painting. He claimed he fainted and his fist just happened to take a tumble across the lovely 'Argenteuil Basin with a Single Sail Boat'.

But security footage said differently. It showed him walking up to that impressionist masterpiece, looking it square in the eye sailboat, and doing what Manet (I assume Manet and Monet were rivals) had always dreamed of doing. He gave that 140-year-old overrated collection of blurry brushstrokes a knuckle sandwich!

Now, it turns out he did it to "get back at the state" (Ireland, in this case). But I like to think he just did it. No reason. Just wanted to do it and did it. Why do I like this theory better? Because I think of doing crazy stuff like that all the time. It's actually bad. It's a compulsion. I'll walk by a stack of produce in the supermarket and think to myself, just knock all those lemons over! Just do it!

The worst mental dare I give myself is to kiss the random acquaintance/stranger I happen to be talking to. Just lean over and interrupt them mid-sentence with a big, sloppy smooch. I never have and never will act on such an absurd and possibly criminal thought, but I can't seem to shake the recurring "just kiss them, just do it" dare from my head.

I thought I was alone in my madness, but Andy told me that Bill Burr talks about this in his standup.



Would you look at that? Turns out this post isn't as short as I originally anticipated. I guess if you spend the first couple paragraphs complaining explaining how you're tired, the words really start to add up.

Before I forget, the magic eye from yesterday was a rose. But I got it off a creative commons website and it looks like some girl just made it (it wasn't an officially sanctioned 'Magic Eye'). So don't feel bad if you didn't get it. She could just be lying to us and there's actually nothing hidden in there at all.

Love,
Margaret