Best Idea Ever

Hello. It is Thursday. I am listening to Kanye West and Common rapping live on The Chapelle Show, back in the good days when it existed. It’s hot outside, and getting hotter by the hour; by the time I arrive tonight, it will be an oven in my apartment. Both fans are on. Like that’ll help my furball any way. Sorry, baby, I can’t defur you until Saturday!

I am working on my research team’s website, mainly trying to organize the wealth of information that my lead engineer sends me, and eating pumpkin seeds—raw, from Trader Joe’s—while attempting to not spill them all over the floor, which has happened, or drop them down my cleavage, which has just happened.

Whoops.

Although it’s sunny and I have a lot to do and I’m listening to hard, cheeky rock (Buckcherry) that is mainly about naked ladies and getting lit up, I can’t help thinking about a gray morning just two mornings ago, in which I made the cardinal sin of saying that I did, yes, have time for coffee with the LT when I didn’t actually have time at all, and we made it all the way out of the coffee shop before I started to bawl on the sidewalk.

Partly because the LT introduced me to Buckcherry, I guess, and songs by Buckcherry—especially about sex—make me think of him, because, well, grrr, baby! Very grrrr!

Is it hot in here, or is it just me? Excuse me. Desperate fanning is needed.

Whew. As I was SAYING, he was comforting me on the sidewalk, he in his full uniform, including hat and shined shoes, and me dressed up for work in a black pleated skirt, white tank top, pink sweater with ¾ length sleeves and pink pearl buttons, and pink slingback heels. We must have looked like something out of a 1940s postcard. In the middle of my tears, I laughed, and he agreed, thinking of Capitol Hill’s reputation.

“You know, we’d fit in more if we traded outfits,” he said, and we laughed some more and split ways and I got over my tears.

Getting to the B, I mentioned this story to The Intern, and then it came to me in a bolt of lightning, the Best Idea of All Time:

LAZY B CROSSDRESSING DAY.

EAT YOUR HEART OUT, FRANCE!