WTH? I was awake at 3 a.m. watching “Father of the Bride Part II” with Martin Short doing some kind of aerobics with pregnant women. Make that a pregnant Diane Keaton, which makes me sort of sad. I still want to imagine her all feminista and not hormone-y. Not that you cannot be both. Hell, I’m both – about 23 hours out of the day – but still. Oh whatever, I’m hormone-y right now so just shut up.
She just said, “I’m too big to get behind the wheel.” I’ve said that myself, but not for the same reason. Damned holidays and all their fattening foods!
I am not dealing well with the “allowance” bullshit I’ve put myself on. I spent three hours online window shopping for a fucking cocktail dress, plus then I get distracted by shoes. P.S. Don’t tell the non-BF, but I kind of went shopping. Just a bit. Okay, more than a bit. Fucking allowance. I hate it.
Me, on the phone to the non-BF: I need to leave behind the cocktails and the Ding Dongs.
Not that I eat Ding Dongs on a regular basis, but I have a supply in my freezer since Hostess met its demise. I really should ebay that shit.
I’ve started saying “Fork you!” instead of “Fuck you!” because it seems nicer, and kind of pointier, too.
At least I’m not spooning in public.
Hey, I know this post sucks, but I’m in a food coma from the five hour long dinner I had tonight. There aren’t enough Tums in the world to tackle the insanity that is in my belly. I should be sleeping well tonight.