A hole in my pants.

"There is a hole in my pants," I say to myself. This hole was created after falling off a footpath onto the road because I am the type of person who should not wear heels. Since this happened back in high school, I sit here wondering why I have not yet thrown these pants away. "Perhaps," my mind says, "you wear these pants because you get some sort of sick pleasure knowing that you can still fit (albeit tightly) into your high school pants." Whatever the reason, the fact still remains that I have kept these pants tucked away in my drawer, taking them out every now & then, & pretending the hole is new.



Dear Treadmill,

I'm sorry, but this relationship is just not going to "work out" for me. The fact that you make my heart beat fast & leave me breathless are all just part of the honeymoon phase. But after 30 minutes of running together, I have finally realized that you are nothing short of evil. Your red blinking lights taunt me & is a constant reminder that I only burned off 10 calories after all the hard work I put myself through which resulted in my heart (& sides) aching. I would promise to use you again, but we both know that this is not true. We can no longer lie to each other. We must part ways. But don't think that I will not think of you in passing. For the next time I pass you, I will use you as my coat rack while eating my 650 cal burger.

<3, Me.

Pulled muscle.

Too much tequila last night. I think I pulled a muscle in my liver.

eHarmony for salad dressings.

I need an eHarmony for salad dressings. Still trying to find "the one."

Jersey Shore.

Valtrex should do product placements on Jersey Shore. Must I think of everything?

I eat poached egg whites on whole wheat bread with reckless abandon. Gangsta!

Seriously Pandora:

I donut care how many musical "genomes" they share - just because I like Adele doesn't mean I should like John Mayer.

Happiness in small things tonight:

Korean drama marathon, great company, & a bowl of ice cream.

A slow, painful death.

Every time my lil bro's friends come up to me & say "Excuse me, ma'am," a little piece of me dies.

Literary nerd.

It's cute that you're trying to impress me but Evelyn Waugh was a man, George Eliot was a woman, & I am a literary nerd.

My phone is my alarm clock, flashlight, music player & camera. Oh, & it makes & receives phone calls too.

I wish I were a baby panda, roaming nature, eating bamboo, & knowing nothing at all about Charlie Sheen.

Puppy poop defies all laws of physics & nature. Ugh.