I'm hawking my DVD set on how to psych yourself out

I'm totally flipped out about a conversation I had with my father about Eric Fingerhut. Not the conversation, per se, but his reporting that some uber-politically active acquaintances of ours have what I consider exactly the wrong instincts, meaning they gravitate towards the perceived front-runner who is all about biography and not about innovative plans to actually improve Ohio....

You know what, I'm sorry, I had this really smart post I was going to write about Eric and what a great candidate and governor he will be, and my internal conflict about making my post-grad plans work. But the truth is, tonight, I have just been sucking at life. I freaking overmicrowaved bread. Over. microwaved. BREAD. And I just kept spazzing all over myself and dropping stuff and trying to make some declarative statement to Marissa only to have it circle back and contradict itself and it's just pathetic. My tennis game sucked today (something to do with the residual back pain from dancing yesterday?), I made an unfortunate choice in footwear for this slushy, disgusting day when I had to haul ass from Rabb to Spingold and back again- not my hottttt stiletto boots, my chunky-heeled brown ones that nevertheless have NO traction, and I am just going to stop trying to write something intelligent because we'll just end up with a verbal pratfall on our hands, to match the physical comedy that is today.