You know that feeling you get when you're trying to get ten things done at one time but the one time isn't as big as it needs to be and you can't fit the ten things into it and while you're trying to figure out how to trick physics and wishing you'd paid attention that other one time before when your dad explained string theory to you because you really feel like it'd somehow be useful right about now because string theory is probably definitely something you are capable of manipulating even though you're finding it challenging to get did these ten things you actually do understand, and then the phone rings and as soon as you pick it up somebody walks into the room and starts talking to your face like you aren't holding a phone to it and the ten things are still saying HEY DID YOU FORGET ABOUT ME? BECAUSE, DON'T! 

And the whole time there's a quiet part of your brain trying to remember what it is you were really doing?

Because, me too. 

On the left, Elphaba had a baby with Legolas. On the right, I saw the whole thing and my hair fell off.

LINDSAY. THIS WEEK. FOR REAL:

- Write something every day.

- Don't eat like an asshole. Water is not just for washing your hair.

- WASH YOUR HAIR.

- Go to the gym. Planet Fitness is doing just fine without your monthly donations.

- Call/text/smoke signal back all of the people. You're the worst person anyone's ever met. Knock it off.

- Practice farting on command so that the next time you're walking down 116th and a man says, "MM, no makeup on and you're still beautiful" even though you have a full face of makeup on and then when you don't say anything because you are puzzled and also because you can't be bothered to teach manners to every last human you encounter he says "YOU'RE WELCOME," you can fart super, super loud. Seriously. Practice. Because next week we learn explosive diarrhea on command. 

- Stop writing fart things on your blog. 

- Make lists of things you are happy about three times a day, every day, because someone in a book told you it was a smart way to trick your brain into being less wretched and stop it from projecting your wahh stuff onto everyone around you (except for the men shouting at you on the street, because if you've been paying attention, you'll know that we'll be projecting bodily functions at them) and maybe turn down the "High Alert, Everything Is A Threat!" part of it. This is an important thing, Lindsay, so please - if you don't do any of the other things, at least do this one. Or else you'll end up like these people:

These are comments on a button that you push that causes a man to arrive at your door with the thing that you've run out of. A MAGIC BUTTON. The second comment is the reward you get for reading the whole first comment without pressing a "BLOW EVERYBODY UP BECAUSE NOTHING MEANS ANYTHING" button. 

- Okay, how about, for every ten posts you write you can write one with farts in it.

- Remove the bags of clothes that you spring-cleaned today from your living space. That's it. That should be an easy one, okay? An entire week to take two bags of clothes down one street. Even you can handle that one. 

Okay Monday. Oh. Kay.

TWO SECONDS LATER EDIT (I FORGOT ONE THING):