i wanted to sit down, but thanks for the maneltoe show instead.
i feel bad for this lady, here. sorry for posting your picture on the internets. but it just happens that she’s the perfect example of how nothing says “feed me a stray cat” quite like a pair of crazy eyes.
(image via crazyeyesblog.com)
i moved last week. to a super awesome location, as a matter of fact. the downside? i still work in nyc’s septic tank. and i currently travel 4 hours and 10 minutes a day to make it happen.
what could i do with an extra four hours a day, you ask?
- actually sleep 7+ hours a night
- exercise (oh, how vital that was to me but a year ago)
- take classes on something (singing! piano! italian! whatever!)
- read (reading on the train nauseates me)
- UNPACK MY APARTMENT!
- cook beautiful meals
- watch david cook slightly less beautiful but still delicious meals
- take long walks
- hang out in the park (which is half a block away)
- sing 5x more karaoke
- research dog training so we can actually get a dog in the coming months (squee!)
- actually be around when we get a dog in the coming months
- make something for my etsy store on a daily basis
- not cry when i get home, because i’m so tired.
if there were ever a time i wish i could just up-and-quit, this would be it. what would you do with 4 extra hours in your day?
dear long island,
newsflash! walking down the street doesn’t make you a prostitute! also, i don’t have a “honk if you’re horny” bumper sticker affixed to my body. so sweet baby jesus, stop honking at me when i’m just trying to get to the goddamn deli.
i’m tall and skinny. it’s 3 parts genetics, 1 part a whole lot of ballet when i was in my teens, 1 part sorta-decent diet and 1 part getting to the gym when i can (which right now is about once a week, if we’re going to stop being polite and start getting real, here). so why, jesus/god/universe, why must i be told to eat a sandwich on a weekly basis?
i eat food! sandwiches are awesome! and i’m not even talking invisible ones! bring on the meat! i’m just a bony genetic freak. other women, especially, seem to have a really hard time believing this. and like to comment on my weight, when really, it’s a wholly inappropriate thing to do.
world, it’s true: just because you’re bony, it doesn’t make you an anorexic making excuses. just sayin’.