Do More Wear Less
"The time has come," the internet said.
"to talk of all the things; of butts and boobs and BodyRock. And 'Do More' ramblings."
All of which I have been occupying myself with while attempting to avoid drowning on the sidewalk.
I've spent most of my adolescent and adult life hoping that if I wished hard enough, learning by sleeping on books would become a reality.
But since that never seemed to take off, I started spending time standing close to talented individuals hoping that some sort of same-room-but-don't-fucking-touch-me osmosis would occur.
Whether or not that was a success is hard to determine and wildly subjective. But nonetheless it has brought me into the fold of a group of wonderful(ly weird) humans that support and encourage my aversion to pants (and made my 'best side' painfully obvious)
Recently I spent far too long far too hungover attempting to record some insight I'm supposed to have to this whole naked photo thing because nudity and cameras are apparently synonymous in my life regardless of my roll. Again, whether or not that was a success is hard to determine and wildly subjective.
But it is now in the Do More Forum, which if you are a human with a camera and a love of boobs and dry humour, you should certainly join.
Now that life has momentarily stopped dropkicking my existence, I don't have much to shout about.
But I still don't grocery shop. I would be wise to invest in UberEATS (but I'm confident it's managed by a very tardy Satan).
So here's to better days and zebra capes
And soon I get to see this human, which used to make me so excited that I accidentally punched her in the face once.*
I'm still just as excited because I see her about twice a decade, but now I understand social boundaries and consent.