I’m not dead but I have climbed out from under the Depression Rock I’ve been hiding under. Lots of crap has been going on. Like I lost every single fucking file on my laptop in the blink of an eye, I gained more weight, went on some crazy shake diet that made me dizzy and
Oh God, this is going to be totally random and I’m not going to apologize in advance (or in retrospect, either) for this crap. The only thing I can say is that I feel maybe, hopefully, oh help me sweet chocolate Baby Jesus I hope so! that the depression is lifting. Either that, or I’m
I really, really should stop writing shit down on cocktail napkins. Most of that stuff is illegible and 90% doesn’t make sense if I can actually read it later. Need to stop texting blog post ideas to myself as well. I’m looking at some of this crap and wondering where I left my crack pipe
Thank you, Brattus Rattus, friend from the internets, and also my dear friend Cherry for pointing out how truly fucked up my stomach has been, and for a long time at that. No thanks to my parents or the non-BF because, in his words, I never listen to them. (Okay, you all were right, too.
Sitting in this overpriced airport restaurant, I notice the woman across the way from me has Meg Ryan’s hair from “French Kiss.” Only not in an adorable way. Come to think of it, Meg Ryan’s hair wasn’t that adorable, either. Stupid movie, too. “Lactose INTOLERANT!!!” My terrier mix could have written better dialogue. ***** Meg