I just binge watched two seasons of Casual, and I can’t believe this lady is only supposed to be five years older than me.
In her defense, I get carded all the time. Also, some dude coaching youth track at the park during lunch last week asked me if I was in high school! Sir, if you’re trying to get me to join your track team, I’m in my thirties. And more importantly, I don’t run.
We were watching TV at my mom’s house over the holiday, and right after they showed this part, my aunt paused it, turned to me with a concerned look on her face, and was all like, “You know you can talk to me, right???” I meannnn.
I caught up on seven episodes of How to Get Away with Murder with Pammie over the weekend. I’m dying to know what happens next, but I never watch this show by myself because I get too scared. I can’t wait till I’m home for Thanksgiving to find out who shot Annalise, so someone please come over when the new episode airs this Thursday!
Spoiler Alert: There will be frozen salmon from Costco (it’s the only thing I keep stocked in my fridge because holiday weight) and me with no pants on.
I’m doing it partly in preparation for all the BBQ and bad decisions I’ll be making in Austin next week, but mostly because I bet Anthony that I could lose twenty pounds by the time we went to ACL or I’d pay for his BBQ at Franklin. These last five pounds can’t be zumba’d off in a week, so I made a game-time decision to bring my juicer out of retirement yesterday.
I can’t wait to go on vacation! And also eat solid food again.
I usually enjoy being on my back, but this is getting ridic.
I’ve been living off muscle relaxers, pain killers and salon pas for the past three weeks. The cause is still unknown, but I’m pretty sure I went too hard at the Paul McCartney show! Ha.
I’ve been stressed out at work lately, and the doctor thinks I might be carrying the stress in my back. If only he could write me a doctor’s note forbidding me to work overtime. It’s the least he can do, since he won’t prescribe me more vicodin!
The power went out in my apartment building again last week! I was already running late, and I had to go back upstairs in the dark to tell the maintenance guy to manually open the garage gate so I could get to fucking work already. This has happened three times in less than two months! And these are only the incidents that I know of, because I spend less than 50% of my time in this apartment (unless a burglar is reading this, in which case I’m home all the time. Plus I always keep my sharpest pair of fabric scissors within reach. And I’m not afraid to cut you.)
Once I get my new car situation settled, I’m moving out of this overpriced shit hole and torching it on yelp!
The act of trying to forget someone is a futile one. In order to do so, you are forced to remember. It’s like dieting. Like trying your hardest not to think about food, while weighing every ounce and counting every calorie.
I suppose in the end it’s almost too easy to look back and say what you should have done, how you might have changed things. What’s harder—what’s much, much harder—is to accept what you actually did do.
At home, at weekends or whatever, it wells up and I can’t handle it. But most of the time I can just about handle it, you sort of have to get through the day.
I wanted to tell you all my secrets, but you became one of them instead.
There’s a cafe in Los Feliz that has a table with drawers full of secrets inside. I didn’t leave one of my own tonight, partly because neither of us had a pen, but mostly because I was afraid someone I knew would find my note and recognize my impeccable penmanship.
One of my randoms who I haven’t seen or responded to in five years hit me up late last night. Who does that??? Please just forget about me, just like you seem to have forgotten that you have a girlfriend and babies at home.
And lately I’ve been thinking
I’m not feeling anything at all
Will I survive in the dead of night?
And now the lights are fading faster
Save me from my disaster
Every morning, I wake up and forget just for a second that it happened. But once my eyes open, it buries me like a landslide of sharp, sad rocks. Once my eyes open, I’m heavy, like there’s too much gravity on my heart.
She was the third beer. Not the first one, which the throat receives with almost tearful gratitude; nor the second, that confirms and extends the pleasure of the first. But the third, the one you drink because it’s there, because it can’t hurt, and because what difference does it make?
If people want to let you go, just let them do it. They may not understand who you are. So don’t play around with fire; don’t give them their cake and let them eat it, too. Here is your rule of thumb: they either commit to you or get none of you.
Why’s everyone still singing about California?
Haven’t we heard enough about the Golden State?
I guess if you like sandy beaches and blue ocean water
There’s something about it, to which I cannot relate
My work is hosting its third weight loss challenge this year, and I’m joining for the third time! It ends the week before Thanksgiving… just in time to gain some holiday weight go shopping with my winnings 😉 I’ve also decided to go gluten-free during the contest! Yikes. Thank yeezus for gluten-free vodka! I’m gonna need it…
You should be watching Orange is the New Black, if only for sound advice from Yoga Jones. (She was the voice of Patti Mayonnaise if that helps sway your decision at all.)
I love that my new Apple TV allows me to stream episodes of Modern Family from my iPad mini to my HDTV while freeing up my macbook pro for some light internet stalking.
You’ll be sick or feeling troubled or deeply in love or quietly uncertain or even content for the first time in your life. It won’t matter. Out of the blue, beyond any cause you can trace, you’ll suddenly realize things are not how you perceived them to be at all. For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. You’ll detect slow and subtle shifts going on all around you, more importantly shifts in you. Worse, you’ll realize it’s always been shifting, like a shimmer of sorts, a vast shimmer, only dark like a room. But you won’t understand why or how.
It took me so long to do so many important things. It’s hard to accept that I spent so many years being less happy than I could’ve been. Jim was five feet from my desk and it took me four years to get to him. It’d be great if people saw this documentary and learned from my mistakes. Not that I’m a tragic person, I’m really happy now. But it would just make my heart soar if someone out there saw this and she said to herself, ‘Be strong. Trust yourself. Love yourself. Conquer your fears. Just go after what you want and act fast! Because life just isn’t that long!’
I do try. I’m the one that never calls too often and acts like it’s no sweat. I’m the one that stays busy, a blip here and then there. You won’t find me anywhere too long beyond what is welcome. Right?
Truth is that I am uncool. Goofy when it’s harmless. Frightening when I lose footing. I’m terrified of being seen with my love hanging out.
I know. I’m fooling no one but myself. Everybody knows. Now. I got caught loving, longing, dancing well after the music stopped.
STEFAN: How does anyone ever seem to move on? CAROLINE: I think that someday, you’ll meet someone new, and you’ll fall madly in love, and you’ll have moved on without even realizing it.
Loneliness is lonely. I miss being in love and I miss being loved and I miss belonging to someone and I miss having someone to tell important things to and I worry that my missing those things will affect the choices I make and get me into trouble and I worry that I’ll forever feel like a dust mote floating around without anywhere to settle.
