You know you need to get a grip when:
Your idea of a tragedy is that two of the six boxes of Thin Mints you ordered turn out to be sugar-free Little Brownie cookies instead.
And you panic, because they might run out of Thin Mints before the error can be rectified.
You consider getting a dog because your three-year-old wants one.
Even though you KNOW you will be fully responsible for its care.
(In my defense, he’s already housebroken, not a puppy, and proven to be wonderful with children.)
You consider having a fourth baby.
Even though your pants size continues to creep up and up and your baby belly will never go away. Not to mention getting said baby would entail sex, not, alas, a simple 10K race registration.
You RSVP No to a wedding because you have no idea what to wear. (Well, that, and you dislike the bride.)
You eat an entire Pepperidge Farm coconut cake in ONE day. (Albeit in tiny slivers, just all day long.)
You consider buying clothes of any kind at all at the Gap, Home of the Anorexic Dress Model. (Eat a sandwich already, girls!) (Or a cake!)
You spend four hours tracking down an ILL request, but no time at all writing your blog post.
Ok, that last one? Not so much.
How about this then:
You consider spending an entire weekend evening with some college friends and acquaintances in a sort of pseudo-reunion, some of whom include your ex-boyfriend (the one who broke your heart into a thousand pieces and tromped on them in his hiking boots but whom you later figured out really was a bit of a prat - I mean, please, what sort of nineteen-year-old boy wears tweed jackets and drinks Scotch?) and the short, fat, chipmunky girl - well, one of them - he dumped you for.
19 comments:
Well, I'm just glad I'm not the only one who's sort of mentally ill right now.
Maybe it's in the water...
Everything in this post sounds like a bad idea.
Maybe it's me.
HAHAHAHAHAHA.
My boy turned TWO and the husband began bargaining for a dog. I fostered one from the local SPCA and we ended up having him for a year - sweet old thing!
Now the boy is FIVE and the girl is two and hubby has worn me down to where I agreed that MAYBE we could LOOK at the dogs. For future reference.
The PUPPY arrives next week. I am so toast.
Sounds like a typical winter to me, sliver of cake and all. But then again, I grew up in Erie...!
I don't like those Little Brownies. But a box of Tagalongs seems to disappear each day around here. I don't know where they're going. In the morning, I open a box. By the end of the day, it's gone!
Do no, I repeat, do NOT get a dog. Sure, they're friendly and cute and funny. They also shed and shit everywhere (and guess who gets to pick THAT up?) and bark and and and. My husband begged for a dog. We got one on the condition that he walk it and clean up after it. Guess who does all that? Not him.
I gotta get me one of them cakes....
Do NOT get a dog. You do not want a dog.
Do NOT go to that reunion. Very--and I mean VERY bad juju. To be safe, I double checked with my my Magic 8 Ball and the answer that floated up was: "What are you, high?"
-J.
P.S. Have you considered drinking Red Bull?
P.S. Only an idiot poseur wears tweed and drinks [probably blended!] Scotch at age 19.
He ought've been wearing a navy blazer, instead. I mean, really, tweed...[eye roll]
At the time said boy left you for said chippy you could have had ANY boy that you knew.
I'da picked you over her anyday. 'cept I was with the girl that left me for the boy with the magic penis.
I think I am going for drinks (which I will pay for, for everyone on CMU) and then leaving before dinner. You could do the same. Be nice to see you.
I notice everyone assiduously avoiding the baby comment, but your message re: dog is received.
It's just that we really want you to go run that marathon!!
It's just that the baby thing didn't seem like a real consideration given that a) the race registration didn't produce the result you thought it might've, and b) you refuse to drink Red Bull and/or have your thyroid looked at by a competent medical authority.
Besides!
Coconut cake is a natural contraceptive.
-J.
I think it is really all about the cake. I already ate cake this a.m. for breakfast. It had strawberries on it, so it had to be healthy, right?
Oh yeah, get a cat, they are so much easier, and if you get a real friendly one you can wrap it up in a blanket and carry it like a baby--works for me.
I have two cats, and a goldfish. I am just saying. I am fond of the goldfish - the one cat is fine, and adores Primo - the other is the most miserable creature I have ever met.
I regret to inform you that coconut cake is powerless to ameliorate the mood of a misanthropic cat with low self-worth.
-J.
I agree with Blackbird. Though that coconut cake. Oh my God it sounds good. And the baby thing, you have mentioned it several times now...
That last one there: it hasn't happened yet, has it? Only go if you have a cloak of invisibility.
I'm not touching the baby comment - I think I commented a while ago on such a topic on some other blog and have received the silent treatment ever since :-(
Though I will say the reunion thing and the sex before baby thing may be mutually exclusive - one only has so much time....
And a wedding is just no fun if the bride is a bit off...
BB, I don't know why everyone else is telling you NOT to get a dog. I wholeheartedly encourage you to get a dog!
I know I missed the boat when the comments were flying, but oh, get a dog. I can think of a sweet 2-year-old boy in Honesdale who would love, love, love a house with three kids. (Or four, if you're so inclined.)
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