My throat hurts, and other things I want to talk about.

Well, shit. I'm back and better than ever (?). Probably not (!).

Being in New York City for work kicked my ass, just like everyone said it was going to. Long days, minimal sleep, being in a stuffy hotel with other people and their germs, etc. It caught up to me in the form of a sinus headache (or migraine?) last Thursday, and now has settled itself into a lump in the back of my throat. Or so it feels. What is a sore throat, anyway?

But, I'm home, and won't be traveling again until the end of December, when Kelsey and I take off to North Carolina to see those beautiful brothers who (whom?) (who cares) we love so much, perform on New Year's Eve. However, exciting things are shaping up to happen here, but no, I'm not going to tell you. I can't! It might jinx it. So, you'll just have to wait and see, but I promise I'm not bullshitting you. Or, maybe I am. But I'm not! Let's just put it this way - I have to clean!

I'm so happy it's November. Even though most of the tress have lost their leaves, I still look outside in awe. The fact that I live in Upstate New York and I get to experience such a breathtaking autumn year after year is not lost on me. And this time of year - the prepping for winter, discovering jackets jammed in the back of my closet that I had all but forgotten about - it excites me. Talk to me in February when I want to stab myself in the eye with an icicle.

I'd like to say this: I'm 100% on the Taylor Swift bandwagon. Do I *love* her as a person? Not always. Would I like to grab coffee with her and gossip? Probably not, unless she wanted to talk about Jake Gyllenhaal. Would I scalp her? Faster than she could blink. But how about you and I talk about new album? Or, better yet, "All Too Well" because I'll never be over that song. Like, ever.

Remember how I mentioned my favorite place to go in Saratoga? Well, I found another one. This time it's a bar (shocking) but it's off the beaten path, and not full of Polo wearing douchelords. Have I ever mentioned my hatred of men who wear Polo shirts? There's nothing worse than a guy in a Polo, khaki shorts, white sneakers, a baseball hat and/or sunglasses that are on backwards (most likely white ones), holding a Miller Lite/PBR. Those guys are my worst.

Anyway, this place doesn't host idiots like that. More or less because the median age is roughly 47, and 47 year old men are too busy wearing dad jeans. Whatever. Old men are my demo! Kate, Kelsey, and I went to this place last Saturday and managed to take one, semi-decent, but not really because Kate moved, photo:


I'll be back tomorrow with another vlog. Sick of those yet? Too bad.