Oh, hi. Don't mind me. I'm just weeping over an episode of "From Underdog to Wonderdog" on Animal Planet. Big, old blobby tears.
Is this what it's like to be unemployed? Huh.
I'm back in my "home," with my meowies and my things, after a tumultuous weekend. There is p-r-o-b-a-b-l-y not enough Xanax in the world that could've done me any good. Cry, cry, cry, snot, run 16 miles, drink, cry, laugh, send vicious e-mails, cry, blog, sleep, sleep, eat, pack apartment, cry, eat, cry, OMG REALLY? That's kind of how it went.
However, some good things did happen, as evidenced by the photos below. Smooshed some babies, ran a half marathon that resulted in sunburn (hooray sunshine!) and loved on some of my favorite friends in the world.
Annnnd, now I'm back to unemployment, flipping between Animal Planet and The Food Network, with Harley crawling all over my face (someone's feeling needy).
I need a job, like, yesterday. So badly that Harley shit in her litterbox this morning, and I audibly celebrated and sent an e-mail about it. (She's taken to shitting outside the litterbox as of late. I bought new litter. Worked, apparently).
So this is what I do: watch Animal Planet and celebrate litterbox shitting.
Hi, I need a life.
Also need a diet.
I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW. "Roar, it's all muscle! Shut up, it's just a number! Roar!" But for real. Got on a scale last night. 154. Pounds. ONE-HUNDRED-FIFTY-FOUR-WHAT-THE-SHIT?
Out of control. I don't care if it's muscle. I don't care if I don't look it. That is ludicrous. Besides, my eating habits could use a little cleaning up. Going to do my best to cut out processed food. Eat more fruits and veggies.
Take that stupid, awful, terrible, nasty scale, I hate you, OMG.
Funny that I feel that way about a couple people right now, too.
Huh. How 'bout that.