I am getting a zit. Somewhere on my face.

It could be because I ate my weight in beer and spicy chicken chunks in a sports bar yesterday watching Ohio State JUSTPULLINGOUTOMG and Notre Dame BLOWINGITAGAINJESUSCHRIST.  I’m not a Notre dame faf, I just usually default for cheering for whomever Michigan is playing.

Or it could be because in five days I’m giving a TED talk and I see my face in newspapers and billboards next to all these men who look way smarter than me and think, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?

Or it could be because I am two weeks into the school year and I am already exhausted from waking up early.  It’s like I’m being punished by law.

Or maybe it’s because Andy came home and announced he is going to Korea for more than one night, which is how long I usually allow him to be gone. The only advantage to this is that I don’t have to shave my legs for 10 days and Korea is a whole day ahead us, so I am going to have him go into the future and stop me from eating that Pizza Hut P’Zone.

Or it could be because I won’t stop touching my face.

Really, any of these are plausible.

So this week, I shared with you my version of the terrorist alert system I use to clean my house based on who the hell is coming over.  We released new episodes of Three Martinis In, but read this disclaimer, because if you decide to work for me, I’m probably going to touch you inappropriately at some point and you need to know that going in.

I also talked about how my hair magically changed colors all on it’s own, like in The Craft.

How I realized I am way older than I thought I was thanks to the Wayans Brothers.

And lastly, I share with you the best video ever.

Heads up, I am so excited it’s almost Breast cancer Awareness month.  Though I would be more excited if this month didn’t need to exist at all.  But for now, it does, and I am all for raising awareness and donating to this amazing cause.  I will tell you now though, upfront, I am probably not going to post vague sexual things about my underwear in my Facebook status under a guise of it being for a cause, when in reality, it’s just a cheeky way a bunch of women are posting about their panties.

Listen, if you want to post about your underpants or bras, you can do it.  You don’t need a reason.

But, I find using sex and underwear to trick me into supporting Breast Cancer Awareness is about as effective as a bunch of dudes posting about their anuses for Prostate Cancer Awareness Month. Which, coincidentally, is this month, check your prostates, dudes, it’s not scary at all, in fact, I heard it tickles.

Now, if you want to get my attention, I recommend something like this:  Hey Brittany, it’s Breast Cancer Awareness month, which is important, because you have boobs.  Let’s band together to do everything we can to raise money and awareness and stop this disease.  Off the top of my head, you can do that here and here.  Thanks for listening, now on a totally unrelated note, I’m going to post about my panties, because they are adorable.

Also, read this.  It’s amazing.

On to cool shit I found on the internet this week:

Thanks to my reader Tish, I am in love with this girl’s brand of OCD.

I’ve taken my love of Bill Murray to a new level.

I ordered this for Andy.  Seriously.  He has no idea, and he’s either going to smell like intercourse or like a turd covered in burnt hair.  Either way, best post ever.

This happens to me every time I pour liquid from a mug.  I am shocked I haven’t murdered anyone yet.

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