I Can't, Vol. 19
I can't... emotionally handle when I'm done binging on a Netflix series and it's over. It's all over. Life suddenly feels meaningless. I've lost my appetite. I have nothing to look forward to. I question what to do every single night from about 8-midnight. However, every time I think I've hit rock bottom, I find another series and everything is all right again. It's a disgusting, anxiety-provoking, vicious cycle.
I can't...
drink my homemade coffee without cinnamon sprinkled into the grounds. I've tried - it's not acceptable. Once you go cinna, you're forever a sinna (or something).
I can't...
finish this effing book I've been reading for at least two months now. It's this and essentially as long as watching "Gone With The Wind." Except there's like 100 intermissions of me setting it down for days at a time. Don't get me wrong - it's really a wonderful, epic, Southern novel. But I just want to move on to Amy Poehler's memoir, and I can't do that unless I've finished this other book first BECAUSE I AM A SERIAL BOOK MONOGAMIST.
I can't...
trust someone who doesn't think Key and Peele are hilarious (at least half the time, anyway).
I can't...
handle watching animals being killed or hurt on television or movies. But people? Yeah, I can watch some people get their shit blown up and throats cut open. Obvi - I'm only human, ya know?
I can't...
believe I wasn't #blessed enough to need eyeglasses. Damn you, father, for giving me 20/20 vision until I hit 50. DAMN YOU!
I can't...
with passive aggressive girls who text the stupidest, most transparent shit when all they need to do is say "No. I'm busy, but thanks!" I'm a blunt person - incredibly straight-forward. So, if I invite you somewhere and you can't make it, I don't need a completely awkward, laying-it-on-thick sort of text explaining why you won't be there. A simple "hey girl! I got tied up with a bunch of shit today" will suffice. I promise. I'll have more respect for you than if you were to write something like "heyyyyyyyy. so UGH. so annoying but my grandma's birthday party is going long, so I'm not sure I'll make it! I so hope I do, but if I don't, don't hate me! I'll keep you posted though ok? luh ya so much! (100 emojis here)" <-- NO. TOO MUCH. STOP YOURSELF.
I can't...
believe how cute and adorable Melissa McCarthy was in "Gilmore girls." I mean she's still amazing and hilarious, but sigh. Ya know. Age and time and food and stuff.
I can't...
wait for the day I have a king-size bed. When that happens, I'll know I've made it - that I am not a total failure and have made something of myself and my talents and can revel in all my greatness inside my king-size bed. Or it'll just be that I moved and my parents handed theirs down to me. Either one.
I can't...
with Publizity. I introduced my boyfriend to it this past weekend and he's all:
I can't...
believe it's November. It's almost Thanksgiving. Which means it's almost Christmas. Which means it's almost 2015. Which means that if 2015 isn't EONS BETTER than 2014, I'm not sure, guys. I'm just not sure.
I can't...
CAN'T. CANNOT. WITH THE NEW iOS8. NO. I hate it, my phone moves so slow, and my battery acts like your weakest friend at the gym who starts out all excited decked out in a cute new workout outfit, does one burpee, lifts one 5lb dumbbell, and is like "I'm tireeeeed. Can we go yet???" Pretty sure Apple knew this would happen, ensuring all Apple-loyal people to expensively upgrade to the iPhone 6 before eligibility. Evil.
I can't...
stress enough how hysterically delicious mixing up a Skinny Cow fudge bar with crushed up Oreo cookies is for a once-lightly-caloric dessert. Do it now, thank me later. And don't be shy about adding sprinkles.
I can't...
with people who start blogs, write one post, publicize it on social media, and never write on it again. SMH.
I can't...
with cold weather. I literally cannot even and I don't care how PSL I sound right now. I want it all. I want it in my eyes and mouth and ears and hair and feet and I want all the scarves and the layers and the jackets and the booties and the cold noses and I NEVER WANT TO SWEAT AGAIN. EVER.
xox,
emma
