Health is the New Religion- Something that Everyone Will Try to Shove Down Your Throat

While I was at the grocery store the other day, I saw that Paula Deen had recently revealed that she had Diabetes.

Who could blame her? I'd ride Robert Irving...

...in other news, water is wet.




Seriously, how is this news to ANYONE?! I once saw an episode where she was grilling chicken-fried steaks in foil on the grill. She bundled one up all neat, moving on to the second before she started freaking out screaming, "OMG I FORGOT THE BUTTER". Cue her tearing the packages apart to shove half a stick of butter on top of each flour- and egg-covered steak. In another episode, Paula went to a Krispy Kreme and was welcomed behind the scenes to the conveyor belts of fresh donuts as the local KK "Most Valuable Customer". Paula proceeded to help herself to the bounty by biting into 18 donuts so that they could fit into a 12 donut box while they came out of the machine. She took this and a normal dozen of donuts and proceeded to make 2 cakes out of them. Cakes. Made of Donuts. Was I really the only one who thought, "My God, Paula must go to the gym everyday to keep her figure from not going Jabba the Hut".

Don't get me wrong, Paula Deen is my homegirl for multiple reasons. Earlier this week I made a recipe of her's- Mozzarella-Stuffed Meatballs. Parmesan was mixed into the meat which was then wrapped around chunks of cheese. I knew that this was not a "healthy" choice- not remotely. But I wanted to try something different and continue to practice my culinary endeavors.

I also made banana fruit roll-ups for the same reason. It looked like a prop from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre or some other cannibal film, but sure was tasty. And I was eating bananas- something I typically do not do. Next time I may use Equal or something to make it somewhat healthier but now I know other kinks that need to be worked out in the making of process.

My point is, I'm in a personal exploration with food in general- "healthy" or not.

And quite frankly, I would be exhausted keeping up with the "healthy" trends. First eggs are totally bad then we find that they are somewhat good but in moderation then bad again unless you use just the whites. Health science is like every other science- it is not exact, we do not have all the answers. That's why I use "healthy" in quotations- the state of being healthy is ephemeral (i.e. fleeting. Victorious GRE word use!).

Last night, I went to pick up beer for a friend and myself. I grabbed my Mike's Hard Cherry Lemonade (which is awesome- I don't care how girly it is) and the Coor's Light and went to ring up. The cashier proceeded to tell me how one Hard Lemonade had the sugar and calorie intake of a Snickers. Out of instinct, I feigned amazement and then stated "Well, I walked into a beer store- I knew what I was getting into." Upon walking outside, I became pissed. Why did I fraternize with this man? I should have said, "Dude, it's a beer store- nothing that I would ingest in here is REMOTELY healthy."

And as I continued to fume about how this man totally ruined my bitch beer for me, I wondered, "There were plenty of people in that store- why was I selected to be privy to this fact?" I think it's because I was the sole female but that's for another rant on how sexist our culture is. Male or female- doesn't matter. Let me enjoy my shit. I'm not an idiot who thinks beer's GOOD for me. If you have too much of it, it directly makes you feel like shit where as McDonald's will make you feel like shit over time with excessive intake.Even if you were the simple bitch who misses this logic, your body will let you know- this shit is not good for you. Stop. Drinking. It.

But this happens all the time, people will tell you the "unhealthy" or "healthy" content of what you're eating. Because you clearly care. You clearly care that that item you are eating is ridiculously unhealthy and that's why you're not eating it... oh... wait...

Back off my shit. If I want to eat "unhealthy" foods, let me do so. Guilt trip me all you want for being a fatty- I'll just guilt trip you for being a dogmatic dick. I'm the agnostic eater. Respect my choice and I won't shove a mozzarella-stuffed meatball down your throat.

Social Dumbworking: Technology Breeds Boobery

Am I the only one who wonders how drama started before Facebook was... everywhere?

Seriously, I hear clients/colleagues/classmates get worked up over things on Facebook. And I sit there wondering, "What if there was no Facebook?"

   My friend posted a status talking about how someone/something was stupid DIRECTLY after talking to me
     My boyfriend wrote something suspicious/writes frequently on some chick's wall
       My coworker reported something I put on my wall and I got in trouble
         My sister told me she was sick when I saw pictures of her hanging out with friends

Before I continue, let me say for the record that I have totally overreacted to something that someone else wrote on Facebook. I can only think of 2 incidents but I will admit it has happened.

Jesus, people. It's Facebook. How seriously do you take the information you put on your Facebook? So WHY would you take something that someone else wrote more seriously? And always and forever (whether in person or via Internet):

Bitching about someone talking behind your back is in itself TALKING BEHIND THE PERSON'S BACK.

I've been on that rant a bazillion times so I'll save it for another post but in terms of Facebook, you do not need to be fighting annoying passive-aggressive bullshit with annoying passive-aggressive bullshit. That's called hypocrisy. And if we all wait for the pop (that would be the pop of your head coming out of your ass), we'd realize that hypocrisy is not really a positive characteristic or action. So when someone is talking shit or is just plain full of shit on Facebook, don't "like" it, or ignore it, or block it, or de-friend them. It really is that simple. Promise. I've done it before. It's possible. You have the technology!

I've further noticed (mainly in sessions) other things that Facebook and texting has provided our culture- nobody knows what "said," "talked," or "spoke" means anymore. Speaking, saying, or talking to someone involves moving your mouth and having sounds come out of it and the other person hears you with their ears. Wild concept, I know.

Instead of online, you may also have a conversation without speaking by Shining

So when you "spoke" to someone on Facebook or via text, you did not speak to them. That would be like seeing their picture and saying that you saw them in person. You didn't see them. You saw a picture. So why would you say that you spoke to someone when you had an online conversation? You can have a conversation without speaking.

Open a dictionary, not a new wall post.

Venturing Into The Further

So this week I'm using a vague movie reference. But for those of you who have seen "Insidious", yup, this is the same Further. For those of you who haven't seen it, The Further is like this alternate plane of existence that just has lost souls wandering around. These souls are mostly those who have been exorcised so uh, let's just say that that being at the DMV in The Further would literally be Hell. Not nice citizens in The Further.

Anyway, the rest of the populates are temporary wandering souls from this plane of existence. It's complicated, I won't go into it. But the moral of the story is, the movie Insidious is scary but has plenty of ridiculousness in it so that you can make fun of it and get the vaguest amount of sleep later that night.

Of course, my friend and I made fun of it and still got no sleep.

We were joking about how they characters were referring to "The Further" like it was some ominous grocery store or something. "Oh, I'm just going to go into The Further now." So since we've seen the movie, we'll frequently refer to things like a nightclub as "The Further".

Now you get the title, fabulous, on to my equally incoherent post--

For those of you who do not know me well, I'm a planner. Like, I plan out ev.er.y.thing. My apartment is the epitome of tedium that no one notices but me (which is probably for the best).

• Every movie and TV show are alphabetized. Except Batman Returns, Batman Forever, and Batman & Robin which are placed in that order. They are also in APA formatting. For example, the older "House of Wax" is before the newer "House of Wax" and same with "How the Grinch Stole Christmas". "Super Troopers" comes before "Superbad" because nothing always comes before something in APA.
• My clothing is arranged by formal v. casual, year-round v. seasonal, sleeve length, requiring undershirt or overshirt, color, and pattern.
• The glittered pine cones I have out for winter decoration are arranged in the exact way I want them.
• My remotes are lined up in order of frequency of use.
• And extra creepy details include- all the food in my kitchen has the nutrition facts facing away. My liquor bottles are arranged in a certain pattern that incorporates color, height, and brand. The cubicles containing my DVDs seem to be in random arrangement on my shelves- trust me, they're not random.

I could continue with my list of little details I spent copious time on but that would be ironically copious. But my thinking is, a place for everything and everything in it's place. Once I find the perfect home for this object, that's it. I don't put anymore thought into it because it goes back to that spot. Judge me all you want- I pretty much always know where something is (and when I don't know it's because I've been unable to find a good spot for it) and I get plenty of compliments on how "clean" my apartment is. Little secret- it's not clean at all! It's just organized. Bwahahaha!!!

As you have probably already assumed, my tedium doesn't stop with my apartment, it continues on throughout the rest of my life. I have a plan A, plan B, and usually a plan C and frequently a plan Z (as in "If all else fails" plan). But recently, my life has not allowed for this.

I applied for my doctorate program and I'm still waiting to hear back. This news will determine so much. Not only will it dictate what I will be doing on the weekends for the next 4 years but whether I need to reapply elsewhere. Since the program is the only of it's kind, I have NO IDEA where I would apply. In addition, I realized the other night at the night club (yea, my brain is going 24:7 with the oddest things) that if I do not get accepted, I don't have enough credit hours to get licensure which is what I plan on working towards starting in the Fall, regardless if I get into my doctorate program.

I have not started looking for aforementioned clinical work. So I have to start the job hunt. Except if I do not get into my doctorate program and need the final 12 credit hours to get licensure, I will probably stay here, in Philadelphia, for another semester. So how can I apply for a job if I don't know where I will be living?

Meanwhile in my social life, I'm currently dating casually and it's been... horrifying. And it's not like the guys have been insane mutants or anything, I just don't get along with them (could my insanity listed above be a clue?). And with some of the things I wonder if I'm being petty but then I think "Well, if I feel I cannot be myself around them- why would I pursue this?". Then my nonstop brain starts going again and I start doubting a lot of my decisions, concerned about where I'm going.

There's more examples of chaos going on, but those are the biggies.

Hopefully I don't run into anyone like this but you never know with The Further- it's a tricky bitch.

I'm going into The Further, people (see, I'd get back to that at some point).

And I guess I'm ok with it. It's good to dabble a little with ambiguity and learn how to survive it, right? But it's so against my nature, I'm freaking out a little bit. I feel as though I should be working my way out of this ambiguous nonsense- form a plan A through Z if need be but just make a plan! (Ha- pun)

So in this moment, I'm trying to ride it out. Around the same time last year I had a mid-life crisis (which at the age of 23 is just plain neurotic) and pretty much lost my marbles trying to fight it. In hindsight, that was a bad life choice and I should've managed better. So now we're trying this route.

I'm sure you'll hear how well THAT goes in the next several weeks.

Slackeroni and Cheese

So, I epically fail at blogging. I admit it.

Also, for everybody who's been following since week 1 (danke very much!), I also fail with the Rachael Ray cooking plan. The plan required you to make 5 "staples" which you divide into little baggies and then freeze until you need them. I made the first 3 staples the first week, the 4th the second week, and a month later, the 5th.

Now, when I do occasionally cook, these premade baggies of staples like shredded pork and chicken are the bomb and a concept I think I'm going to continue with forever. But OMG. I have about 15 of the 20 meals to go and 2 of the ones I have made sucked. It was sad face.

I also really dropped the ball on the gym. I still go about twice a week but there has been the weeks where I'm swamped and do not go at all. Just hardcore slacking.

So I'm trying to pick back up, cook a legit meal at least once a week (which then lasts for multiple days), go to the gym at least 3 times a week, and blog when I have something super insightful.
And on that note...

I do not believe in new years resolutions. As a professional procrastinator aided by mad A.D.D., I even recognize how FOOLISH this concept is. So you procrastinate from doing something you should be doing 10 months out of the year and then in December you realize, "Oh shit, I'm a fat cow." But do you put down the pumpkin pie?

No.

Instead, you allow yourself to be a chump for a whole extra month by saying, "I'm going to start working out next year- it will be my new years resolution." And then somewhere around January 20th, you're back to your same slacker self for a solid 10 months. Bravo.

And this is society enabled slacking. For example, last night I was asked what my new years resolution is. I replied, "Nothing." The person gave me this look. You know, that look of ultimate judgment because you're too special to not need improvements and, therefore, do not need to make resolutions. The person then proceeded to tell me their resolution in some bombastic (that means pretentious- look at that GRE vocab lingering in my feeble brain!) tone of "Well my resolution is to..."

I don't even know what the person said their resolution was. And I don't give two turtle shits what it was either. I am not conforming to this tradition of acceptable, annual slacking. So when I say I don't have a new years resolution, it's not because I'm lazy (which I am but that's a minor detail) or because I think I'm perfect, it's because I don't need a calender to tell me when it's time to pull my head out of my ass. The time to pull your head out of your ass is now!

Speaking of which, I'm way behind on some paperwork... I'm going to grab some pumpkin pie and continue to not do it.

Winter is Coming!

I'd bundle up with that. Yup, the title is a nod to the awesome Game of Thrones and foxy Jon Snow.

I hate winter

I know, I know. Hate is a strong word. But I strongly dislike to the point of hating winter.

     I hate snow.
       I hate driving in snow (in the air or on the ground).
         I hate long sleeves and multiple layers.
           I hate shoes that I have to tie and socks.
             I hate being sick.
               I hate being cold.

Winter is just unpractical. And anybody who sits here and tells me they love winter or that "It's better than summer" or some derivative has not really sat there and thought this shit through.

I'm serious. Ok, in summer, yea, it's hot- I get that. But it's not so hot that you cannot start your car. Kid you not, there are places in this country where people's gas and other fluids freeze in their car making it undrivable. You never have to wake up early to scrape heat off your window or shovel the heat out from around your car. Heat does not obstruct your vision while driving or make the roads slick. People do not drive slower in heat, arguably, they drive faster in order to get a breeze in their car. Anybody with a libido will tell you that summer and the half nudity it produces is very nice. There is nothing flattering about winter clothes and if they are flattering- you're cold.Once you're inside, you are now carrying around a hat, gloves, a jacket, a sweater, a scarf, etc. Have fun with that. People do not slip and fall in the heat.

Ok, now I know there's people out there thinking about their own reasons why winter is awesome and summer sucks so let's tackle the common ones:

• "At least in winter, you're not sweating." False. If you bundle up properly, you are sweating in some places and frozen in others and then you go inside and you're sweating buckets because you have all this shit on.
• "In winter, you can put on layers and become comfortable while in summer you can only take off but so much." Ok, true. But frankly, I don't want to feel like that kid in A Christmas Story and become some upside-down turtle of winter clothes ("I can't put my arms down!"). Also, in the morning when you wake up, it's cold and the last thing you want to do is get out of the cocoon that is your bed while in summer, you're hot and getting out of bed is sometimes halfway appealing.
• "I like the holidays." Touche, the holidays are nice. But if you ask people in Florida, I promise you they'll tell you the holidays still happen without having to freeze their nuts off.
• "I like cozying up to a fire." Summer night camp fire. Done.
• "I like watching the leaves turn." That's fall, dumbass.

And finally, (my favorite)

• "I love snow. It's so pretty." This is just the dumbest thing I've ever heard. It's even better when it's followed up with "until it gets plowed". What, you don't want your snow to be plowed?! You're fine staying inside all winter like a damn bear? I certainly hope you ate like one because here in a couple weeks, I'm sure you're screwed. Enjoy that unplowed snow while you starve. Meanwhile, I, over here in summer awesomeness, will be driving to Rita's and be living it up with delicious food that I can access. Another great follow-up is "just for a couple days, then it can go away". Well that's not the way it works, simple bitch. So unless you're out there with a hair dryer, you better accept that snow hangs around and continues to be a lingering pain in the ass. At least rain (which I'm not a fan of either) will move itself along down into the sewer. Snow sucks. Please read above arguments.

And here's my final argument for why winter sucks balls. A solid 80% of those fools who claim to love winter and snow and all that other bullshit from August to December, end up being sick of it by February. You love it or not. Make up your fucking mind. If you like something because is in this very moment you want it (i.e. it's the middle of summer and you're wanting winter or vice versa), you are 5 years old. Think about it.

Although the Russian winter did conquer the Nazis. Touche. Score 1, winter. Score 308745463, summer.

I got bear coasters to make me feel mildly better about winter. They're awesome. But winter still sucks.

Empower Yourself to Pull Your Head Out of Your Ass

I arrived early for training yesterday at my internship. I had a little less than an hour to bullshit- so I called my mom. Amidst our bitching and catching up on the various shenanigans in our life, I exclaimed this post's title in reference to other people, "Empower yourself to pull your head out of your ass." I know, I'm a fabulous therapist. I told my mom she was free to use that statement when talking to coworkers.

I finally went to training which ended at 11am when it usually ends at 12pm. This means I could make the 45 minute drive to the other office for outpatient sessions and still have *gasp* an hour to eat! This was very exciting and I won't lie, I had been looking forward to it all week.

Granted, my lunch was a meager peanut butter sandwich and a package of Swedish Fish but it's better than my typical lunch on Fridays- nothing. When I first started the internship, I grazed on my food throughout the day at my desk. But I had the worst ants-in-the-pants and I figured it was probably because I forced myself to be in that miserable office for 11 straight hours. So now I make a point to eat in the break room and socialize with my coworkers or at least get my mind totally off of paperwork and clients.

So I waltzed in, with my hour sandwich. Immediately followed by my coworker.

     Now, before people get the wrong impression, I understand that
     people need to vent (I mean, come on, that's my job!) and I know
     that people in my field can only vent to people also in the field.
     So bitching during lunch in the break room is inevitable. I GET
     THAT.

But,  Jesus. There's a point where you have got to stop bitching. For example, when people ask you, "How are you?", there IS a correct answer- I don't care what people say, that's the damn truth. The correct answer is "Fine." or another 2-syllabled answer like "Tired", "Busy", or "Good". After 2 syllables, I've got 3 syllables in mind, "I don't care." You have reached your update quota. Why does Twitter only allow 120 characters per post? Because we want an update- not your fucking lifestory. You have a 2 syllables to convey your point and if you cannot do that- expand your vocabulary.

Not this coworker! Nope! She will tell you EVERYTHING (Katt Williams "Everything? Ev.er.y.thing.") that's going on and every time it's bad. Ok, I'm exaggerating. There are moments when she's not negative... she's not exactly positive either, but, you know, whatever.

And fortunately, she just wanted a soundboard. So while I dazed out thinking about American Horror Story (love that shit) while still saying, "No way!" and "Uh-huh.", I was able to suit her needs to vent without really doing anything. But even when I try to agree and give a short example peripheral to my life- which people do-, I could barely get the words out before she was back on herself.

"I'm on my fucking lunch break!"

Again, I recognize that sometimes people need to do this. But this is the one hour I get once a month when training ends early on Fridays (I frequently don't get to eat lunch on Wednesdays either until 3) that I can relax and appreciate my food. .Fuck. Off.I was definitely 2 seconds from a Bad Santa moment. I listen to people's problems all day- I just want this one hour to eat my sandwich.

And then I was late getting my 1pm client from the waiting room because I was listening to her issues.

I spent the trip home wondering how she didn't realize that I didn't care. Or maybe she did realize it... and didn't care. It made no sense.

I have to stress- I don't mean to be mean when I say this shit. I just use this as an example to encourage people to empower yourself to pull your head out of your ass. Again, not in a mean way, just recognize that there is a world outside of yourself and what you see. Other people's priorities and paths are different. Have faith in yourself to manage and endure through the shit surrounding you (HA! Pun totally not intended) because whether you believe it or not- it can get worse. Pull on those big boy/girl pants (see last post) and keep movin'! You can do it! And I have found when I put my problems at the same level as others' (even if it's to think about the starving Pygmies in New Guinea like Larry the Cable Guy) my problems look like nothing- a cake walk.

     ...a cake walk lined with Swedish Fish. Those things are fucking delicious.

Upgrade From Pampers

Total failblog! I know, it's Monday and I should have posted THURSDAY. But maybe this means two posts in one week?! Oh, we never knowwww ... Ok, maybe we will know on Saturday but that's a minor detail.

So last post was pretty lame and I apologize. I was having a moment. This past week I've been dealing with other people's moments. SEGUE INTO THIS WEEK--->

People need to grow up.

Not when you're young or something but eventually. And maybe this is my problem, I'm starting to transition into adulthood and my peers are slacking- like, peers a few years or more older than me are slacking- and I find it absolutely ridiculous.

So, I'll admit this may totally be my bias, but I feel like your early twenties are the last fleeting moments to expend the immature and irresponsible notions, your mid-twenties are awkward transition into adulthood, and your late twenties are to work out the kinks and genuinely own your adult self. You may go through changes and revamps down the road but this is it- you're an adult and all those scary responsibilities are not going to be on hold while you work shit out. This is the model I've had. I have no idea where it comes from but since most seem to follow this pattern, I've ran with it I guess.

But not everyone has. My 25 and 26 (and all the way up to 30!) year-old friends/friends-of-friends have missed the memo that IT IS TIME FOR YOUR BIG-BOY/GIRL PANTS

This past year I have dealt with the following:

     A man (ironically using that word loosely) on the verge of tears because a girl is mad at him.

     A woman (again, ironic overuse of the word) ACTUALLY crying because someone is "being mean" to

     her.

     Even further, neither of these people chose to go to the person that they saw as mad at them and

     address the situation.

     Even further, both people expected changes to occur despite not informing the other person that they

     were upset...

     This then went around the rumor mill and other people unrelated got mad.

Did I forget to mention that in both cases I'm thinking of different people? Did I forget to mention that I'm 24 and the youngest of all these people? Yeah, factor that in and there's my beef. Because even if I'm not part of the unrelated people whom got irritated, I still feel the repercussions of the (for lack of a better word) drama. For we cannot hang out with so-and-so and so-and-so because they're fighting over bullshit that happened (and sometimes didn't even really happen) months ago. And that's just the majority of drama cases- there have been several other instances where I look at the person and think, "Seriously, how old are you?"

Life is funny- I was talking to a coworker this week about how clients will say something in passing or within the content of their issues and it resounds so much with what's going on with your life. For example, this week, my 16 year-old client was upset about typical drama that comes with being in high school (HS). In my mind, I had to laugh (cannot cry!) because I thought drama was a HS-related phenomenon. Then I got into college and still had drama, but less, so I thought, "Oh, this must be a youth-related issue." Oh false. I'm still dealing with it and it's surprisingly the same shit. I felt exactly like this girl, dreaming about the wonders of drama-free college. I had to break it to the client- this shit isn't going anywhere so let's help you deal.

Two days after that client, I had one of my 20 year-old clients discussing issues with people in her life and she kept repeating the words "Grow. Up." Again, another moment in my head where I had to laugh because I couldn't cry-

    

     My 20 year-old client knows you need to grow up and my 25+ year-old classmates (i.e. future counselors) do not seem to acknowledge this fact.

 Let that marinate.

Preach! Rejoice in the power of grown-up pants!

So I implore you, people, before you walk outside your house check to make sure you're wearing your grown-up pants! Is griping about that stereotypical coworker worth it? Can you talk directly to the person? If you feel like the same problems keep "happening to you" check yourself- YOU are the common denominator here and whether you're the problem or not, it's time to take action! You need to resolve the issue, prevent it from happening again, or learn to deal! If you're about to walk out of your house and constantly bitch, and throw temper tantrums like you always have, take off the pampers. The time is now to empower yourself with the responsibility of big boy/ big girl pants. It's ok if you're scared, but eventually they will be second-nature and you'll be the cool new kid- uh, ADULT- on the block with your fancy-ass grown-up pants. Ohhh. Ahhh.

But seriously though, if you catch yourself walking out of the house in diapers, get some help, you West Virginian! (as my dad would, lovingly, call you)

Bridget Jones' Blog

When I've had a bad day, I watch one (or both on REALLY bad days) of the following two movies: 

     Bridget Jones' Diary

     Rob Zombie's Halloween

Ok, you know what, don't judge me. They are both good films... in their own way.

Bridget Jones makes me feel better about myself (I thought I had problems) and Halloween is my vicarious revenge (Now YOU have a problem, Bwahaha!).

In the past two years or so, I've been avoiding watching Bridget Jones even when I have a real JONES to. I know, I'm fucking hilarious! It all stems from my old roommate totally shaming me about my Bridget Jones behavior.

     A couple years ago, when my roommate and I originally moved into our apartment together, my ex cheated on me. Dick. 
     Instead of handling it like any normal person,  and sending him a dead rat covered in the Ebola virus I watched Bridget Jones' Diary
     about 6 different times, most of which was out in the living room. On my sixth viewing, my roommate walked through
     commenting, "Bridget Jones- again?" Yea, shutup about it. I was not able to even enjoy the movie I had memorized in record
     time, I was fuming. The movie ended and I went in my room to huff and feel sorry for myself when logic came out of his
     hiding place (because let's face it, you don't have logic when you're sucked into the sappy world of a chick flick) and
     said, "Well Lauren, maybe it's time to move on and not BECOME Bridget Jones- except not witty and British."

     Fast forward a solid 8-12 months. I had moved on, had a new boyfriend, life was good- but I didn't watch Bridget Jones-
     even though I thought I had earned it. While doing homework one day in the living room, I noticed a very familiar DVD
     box from across the room- IT WAS BRIDGET JONES! I checked my collection- it was a different copy. And here I was,
     avoiding it. I was pissed. I called practically everyone in my phone and upon answering I would scream-whisper (our walls
     were paper-thin), "SHE BOUGHT BRIDGET JONES!" Yeah, nobody was nearly as upset as I was. Nor did anybody know about the initial
      incident which just made for many awkward conversations.

 

So now I'm in a different state than this person and I still avoid watching it. I force myself to watch Halloween for the 320984029th time because I've yet to be ashamed about that. But last night, it happened. Bridget Jones went into my DVD player and played. Well, after some coercion of my DVD player which is the epitome of a piece of shit.

The magic is gone. Bridget Jones wasn't the same. I saw the uncanny parallel between a line I've heard over a dozen times and my life the past few months- "I've decided to take control of my life and start a diary to tell the truth about Bridget Jones- the whole truth." Every time someone in the movie implied to her biological clock, I cringed all the more. For now I not only have all my peers, teachers, coworkers, friends, and family talking about "when I have kids" but now CLIENTS. And I don't have the luxury to tell them like I've told several others "I find tapeworms more appealing than children." I have to smile and nod... and die a little on the inside... Maybe I'll send Michael Myers after them. But judging how he treated his psychiatrist, I probably have a slim chance of that working out.

So, I've lost my pathetic character to push myself above. I feel as though I have sunken to the same, sad level. And in my abysmal, self-pity state, I want to watch Bridget Jo- dammit.

I guess now I have to reach to an even lower character to push myself above on those rough days. BUT, on the plus side, I expect to be dating a successful, foxy (although I find nothing foxy about Colin Firth), rich man with an accent (crossing my fingers on an Australian accent) very soon! Mark your calenders for that blog post, people! Yeah, and hold your breath too

Ironically, I'm lying down, on my stomach, on my bed, writing this post- De.press.ing.