Friday night, I flew out to Minnesota (my very first time ever in the state) to co-host an I.N.C. event at the Mall of America with Camila Alves.
I was back home and giving my guys kisses within 30 hours (whew!), but in between…
Oh, in between:
OK, first: I don’t know what’s wrong with me that I am incapable of walking through an airport without buying a Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory apple. Seriously, I cannot do it. I see the store, and I think, “Come on. Do you really need to purchase a chocolate, nut, caramel and peanut-butter-coated apple the size of a bowling ball right now? Do you think that your clients are planning to starve you, that your hotel may not be willing or able to feed you, and that you will require sustenance in Rocky Mountain apple-form to make it through the evening?”
Ever heard the Louis C.K. bit about how he cannot go into or out of an airport without purchasing a Cinnabon?
Here it is, in case you haven’t seen it. Please watch it immediately (but perhaps not within earshot of your employer, as it is decidedly NSFW); he is my favorite person ever. Anyway, in the segment he talks about how even if he’s at the airport that he has just arrived at and is about to head home to a refrigerator full of things like bananas, he must buy one, and it’s all a little bit compulsive and grotesque.
I’m like that with Rocky Mountain apples. I need to be totally alone with them before I eat them so that I can face-plant in them and not worry about another human being seeing me with actual caramel in my hair, because that is definitely what is going to happen.
Anyway, traveling is sometimes tough just because I miss my son so much…but I do enjoy a good hotel room in which to eat my Rocky Mountain apple, and a good king-sized bed with a TV sitting right there in front of it playing The Bling Ring for free because the Westin’s Internet service gave me so much sass that the front desk felt that they had to make it up to me in complimentary-movie form. Thank you, Westin front desk. The movie was really good, as was the glass of red wine that you sent up to accompany it.
This was what I looked like when I woke up the next morning after a solid 9 hours of slumber: very, very happy and chilled-out. Next stop: an awesomely fun experience that we will talk about in just a moment, because it was glamorous enough to probably not belong in the same post as the Louis C.K. Cinnabon routine.
