Pants Vs. Copy and Paste

I spent the last few nights perfecting an email that I was planning on sending to Heather Armstrong (of the dooce.com fame) and finally mustered up the balls to send it to her tuesday night. I was mostly just gushing about my love for her and her writing, and her ability to be hilarious even in the most difficult situations. Plus she is one of the very few woman, who are famous, who is outspoken about her own struggle with depression. I love that about her. in fact, if I were to say who my hero is it would be her. and who I aspire to be like, it would be her. Imagine my utter astonishment when I came home from work yesterday to an email back from her! I didn't honestly expect a reply, since you know. she's kind of a big deal. but she took the time to write to me and it pretty much made me week!! Like I legit had a moment of sally field-esque glee where I was all YOU LIKKEEE MEEE You really like me! which was of course short lived. because of who *I* am. (aka most awkward human alive)

In my initial email to her I had made mention of how and why my nickname is Pants, which she commented on in her reply. so I figured I would write back to her and that would be a good place to go from. I ended up copy and pasting a picture of my tattoo in my reply. BUT true to form, it didn't paste properly. because it didn't send right away, I checked my sent mail folder and in it was my email, but instead of my picture being pasted it was a bunch of crazy computer shpeel. like KJGHSKJGHSKJGBHSKr8e27teihfwktb$*#*@pw3. yea. I'm real cool. I'm just going to send an email in an attempt to be funny and charming to this woman who I totally look up to and somehow FUCK IT UP ENTIRELY. awesome. gooooooo Pants!
a part of me really wanted to send another response with the picture actually attached. so I went back into the email to edit it and somehow manged to send it again. wrong. again. TWICE WRONG. I'm actuallt legitimately embarrassed. to the point where my face has turned red. so picture this - I'm sitting here in my pajama's. with my laptop on my knees. drinking orange juice and having a smoke. ALONE. In my apartment. GETTING RED FACED.

ugggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I can't groan enough to make up for this.

if you need me, my head will be buried under that stack of pillows over there ---->