ugh

fighting back the urge to stab random people in the street. on the upside i believe the stress is causing me to lose weight in my face. if i can just keep my hands away from my lips and face and avoid pressing my nose for the next 2 weeks, my mother will have nothing to criticize when she visits. except the boobs maybe, but that cannot be helped.

mac attack

that was some crazy shit apple pulled on the gizmodo guy huh? i mean what the fuck! actually wait no it wasn't apple who busted down the geek's door, it was the local police. let's get the facts straight. apple busting down a guy's door would be illegal and make no sense. they don't have some special hi-tech task force, it's not the vatican. on the other hand, the police busting down a door because the guy living behind the door committed a crime is totally legal and makes nothing but good sense. apple had nothing to do with this. so while some people are crying out against steve jobs, this blame game is just crazy spin media. so i repeat: apple had nothing to do with this. a crime was committed, and the police were on it. plain and simple. and i have to say, as a frequent loser of phones and as a citizen, this whole series of events reaffirms my belief in this great nation. american cops clearly take crime seriously, deliver justice swiftly, and slam down punishment with an iRon fist. so the next time i get slappysilly drunk and leave my phone in a cab or at a bar or on top of wth-was-his-name-again's dresser, i need not fret, confident that within a few days whoever ends up with my phone will be shitting his pants behind a broken door as police swarm his house. and that'll be AFTER he's already returned the phone to me.

stress kills

my nerves are shot. i just want to go home and hide in my bed. why won't they let me?

so sleepy. why am i so sleepy? i feel like i could sleep for a hundred years.

j AAAAAAAHH!!!!!! va

MY OFFICE GOT A FANCY NEW GLASS FRENCH PRESS THAT I USED FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS MORNING AND OH MY GOSH IT IS SO PRETTY AND COOL AND I HAVE TO PEE AGAIN FOR THE SEVENTEENTH TIME TODAY WHY AM I PEEING SO MUCH I DON'T KNOW!!!!!!!!!! !!!!! !!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!! !!! !!!!!!!!! !!! !!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!

oh how my heart longs

currently in a delicate emotional state. so i'm cooking. and pining for dutch ovens. and cooking. shh. no words. just eat.

be not afraid of shadows

i had an extremely vivid and elaborate nightmare last night. i rarely remember my dreams, and if i do they usually make very little sense and the point of view shifts from first to third person at random. sometimes i'll dream about eating a sandwich and then i'll be on a beach slapping someone with a funny hat and the transition will seem totally normal. last night was different. i remember everything in the dream, from the empty stairwell to the man with the rotting flesh who kept screaming, what is that, what is that, while pointing at the lesions on his body. and even though i woke up several times, whenever i drifted off again i would fall right back in the same story and it would pick up where it left off. seamless.

when i was little, i used to have nightmares all the time. intensely real nightmares that terrified me to the point where i was afraid to sleep. every night i would pray fervently, begging god to keep the nightmares away. god obviously had more important things to worry about, like gay people. almost every night, creatures and villains would torment me until i either woke up screaming or morning came and my mom shook me back to blissful daylight. my sleep didn't improve until i got to middle school, but as i got older the nightmares almost stopped completely. until now, it seems. just up until maybe a month ago, i slept like a rock. i could sleep through the fucking apocalypse. but recently i've been waking up at least once every night, usually with no recollection as to why. usually i'm fine, and i'll read or do laundry or clean. but sometimes i'll wake up screaming. sometimes i'll wake up with a jolt, gasping for air or pouring sweat, and even though i can't remember what i dreamed about, i can tell from the vague hint of memory that it was dark and troubling. even more strange is that i've been told i get violent in my sleep, throwing punches or elbows or whatnot. of this i have no recollection at all. i don't know what's going on with my sleep cycle, but judging from the dream last night, it seems to be getting worse. it's been a long time since i was afraid to fall asleep. the night looms ahead of me. but, at least i now have access to one weapon that my 5-year-old self did not: coffee.

i fear, i fear...

foot down, nose clear

april is the cruelest month. oh how i suffer. my intense allergies + my shoddy immune system create a constant sense of confusion over my physical state. i never really know if i'm sick, getting sick, or just standing too close to a cat owner on the subway. i am at least 10% stuffy 100% of the time. i've long been anti-anything-going-up-my-nose, but after much deliberation and dread i have finally decided to man up and do what needs to be done. hay fever, this ends now. i'm getting a neti pot. so every morning before yoga, i will be irrigating my nasal passages with saline solution, aka snorting salt water through one nostril and then shooting it out the other. not so sexy. but hopefully by eliminating the sniffling and snoring and watery eyes and baby elephant trumpeting and balled up tissues in random pockets and bags, it will make me sexier for the rest of the day.

bring it on, spring. i wanna polka.

special ed

i thought i was jaded, but now i realize i'm a damn slow learner. either i'm mentally retarded, or i'm clinically insane.

mailboxes insane me

i mailed it! i mailed i mailed i mailed! i mailed! it's in the mail! i mailed it away! hooray!!!!WE()*w90e8JyayY!yq1!1

and now we will never speak of this again. unless i win.

addiction #2

i can't stop listening to this song. i'm like a crack addict baby (what you said about mah momma?!) i'm going to eat pasta and listen to window seat until i die.

♫ window seat :: erykah badu

check it

no cooking on sunny days

yesterday i consumed approximately 5 jars' worth of pasta sauce. i cannot vouch for the exactness of my 5-jar approximation because i did not get the sauce out of jars. i made the sauce myself, not 5 jars' worth all at once, but a bit at a time, eating, cooking, eating, cooking, eating, cooking, and then hiding tomatosauce+shamefaced in my bed until sleep overtook me.

that is how i wasted one entire day, and not just any day, but one of the first terrifically amazing beautiful fabulous days of spring. i don't know why that sauce was so addicting, but this is not a story of culinary achievement. this is the story of how one girl sat on her fat ass in her ridiculously messy room all springlorious day eating her way through an entire crop of tomatoes, basil, and a wheel of brie, and i am utterly horrified. i need to forget how to make this sauce or it is going to kill me. i have no pasta left. i have no broccoli, squash, or eggs left. everything in my fridge is gone, used up as carriers for pasta sauce. all i am left with is my deep respect and gratitude for the human body's inability chew up and ingest metal spoons. oh and a tupperware of pasta sauce and broccoli in my office fridge. god help us.

i was kidnapped and then my train blew up

one of these days, i'm going to run out of excuses and will have to tell my boss: listen. i didn't wake up late. i didn't have a train delay. i didn't feel sick. i just really needed a breakfast sandwich. the kind that they have to toast and assemble. and so i am late. what. nom nom nom.