i’ll be in the chicken coop

Today I learned that I am a chicken shit. I had a ticket to the Chelsea Handler book signing at Rainy Day books. While I had my book I also had a small bottle of Belvedere vodka in my purse. But the Nazis at the book store kept repeating how she would only be signing books and I chickened out at the last minute and didn’t ask if she would sign my bottle. My fault lay in the fact that 1. I hate to get in trouble and 2. I didn’t have one of my three companions with me who give me courage. If one of them had been with me I think i would have talked myself into asking.