I Can't, Vol. 44
Oh, Tuesday. You wretched, worthless day of the week. I feel bad for you, actually. You might be more hated than Monday. Because at least with Monday, everyone's in it together. It's a day no one can escape. As Lorelei Gilmore once said:
But Tuesday has it rough. It's the least exciting day of the week. By Wednesday, you're halfway there. By Thursday, you're celebrating almost-Friday, even deeming the day itself "Mini Friday." But Tuesday has nothing. It's just a day. A stupid, dumb day usually full of meetings, very little activity via gchat, and with nothing much to look forward to or talk about. That's why I'm posting today, on this very Tuesday, in hopes that you're not so bogged down with meetings that could've been emails that you can't steal 5-10 minutes (depending on how fast you read) to see what I can't with this week.
I can't...
ever foresee myself being legitimately full and satiated off a single hot dog. This is something that's always plagued me, yet I've never openly discussed. Don't get me wrong — hot dogs can be great. But one is never, ever enough (similar to the ongoing two versus three tacos conundrum). Why isn't this talked about more? We all know it's the truth. One burger? Yes. One burrito? For sure. But one skinny meat weiner placed carelessly into a valley created by two bread ridges never does the trick. Even when loaded with toppings, it's still not enough. I always want another. What is that? This is why I never feel guilty having both a hot dog and a hamburger at the countless amounts of BBQs I attend throughout the year (don't think I've been to more than one this year).
I can't...
even though I know it's an honest mistake, handle it when people use the term "did a 360º" when describing someone's total change. A 360º is a full circle. So what you're saying is they ended up right back where they started? I think what you're looking for is 180º. Again, I used to do this, too. There's a certain UMPH 360º holds, but it's not actually what you're trying to say. Or are you? Are you trying to drive home the point that no one really changes? That, try as we might, we all end up back where we started? WHOA. Okay, maybe you're smarter than I thought.
I can't...
believe how incredibly TASTY these crockpot granola bars turned out that I made. Yeah, CROCKPOT granola bars. WUT? They were so simple and taste equal parts healthy and yum. They're only 290 calories each, almost 10g of protein, and have a shitload of Iron and Calcium. So, make them and eat your heart out. Er, eat your heart to health? Or something. Also, idk wtf "flax eggs" are, so I just used two regular eggs. Also just used regular almond butter instead of coconut butter. Other than that, I kept my toes in line and followed it exactly, and they. are. a delight.
I can't...
seem to stop accidentally meeting guys even though I said I was on a man hiatus. And, no, it's not like "Well, gee! As soon as I said I wasn't going to date for a while, it started raining and I've met the love of my life and OMG what a fairytale/textbook story!" No. These aren't really guys, per sé. Boys, maybe. Children almost. I'm not seeking this out, truly. I'm coming by it honestly, and they just continue to ignite unhealthy, extremely perturbed fires in me. I basically feel like I'm living in the Upside Down permanently. Everything in here is dark and twisted and makes no sense and is scary and upsetting and there are lots of little pieces of matter/lint/dog hair/dust floating around and it's killing my OCD. SOMEONE GET ME A GD DUSTBUSTER SO I CAN CLEAN THIS SHIT UP. ALSO WHERE THE FUCK IS BARB.
I can't...
nurse my poor, disgusting, yellow nails back to health. I can't do it. I've tried everything, it seems: lemon juice, baking soda (I GOT BAKING SODA) + hydrogen peroxide, color correction. The night I chose to take my powder nails off at home with just myself and a bottle of acetone was a night I will regret for the rest of my life. I don't know why I did it; I don't have the answers for myself or you. I just know that I didn't do it correctly and, in the process, seemingly ruined my nails for good. I just want my red Adele nails back.
I can't...
when you TOLD everyone at your last place of employment that a certain person hated you and no one believed you and tried to brush it off like "Oh stop it. That's not true at all!" And then, one day, you realize that person unfriended you on Facebook, and you wanna be like HA! SEE?! I FUCKING TOLD Y'ALL. I KNOW when I'm hated, okay? Like, it doesn't upset me. It's part of the this whole thing. And it's okay to know you're hated and talk about it openly. It doesn't always have to be sugarcoated or covered up with "Ohhhh you're being silly, stop!" I AIN'T BEING SILLY. I'M BEING HATED AND I KNOW IT.
I can't...
with this text exchange from Saturday night between my wasted ass and the funniest homie I know:
I can't...
handle reality TV. I'm pretty sure I've written (ranted) about it before. If I haven't, I'd be surprised with myself. I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate the fake plot lines, dialogue, scenes, everything. I hate how sucked into it my friends get. I hate how it's become a source of connection for so many of my peers; something to talk about and scoff over together. I haven't watched reality TV since the late 90s Real Worlds because, DUH. Those were iconic (also WTF was I doing watching those at my age? Mom???). But other than that, I've never been a Bachelor/Bachelorette/The Hills/Real Housewives watcher. NEVER. So it saddens me to tell you all that my group of besties has decided to hold a weekly Bachelor In Paradise watch-gathering, and that I've had to suck up my hate and pride in order to join them and spend time with my friends. Methinks they're conspiring to get me to fall victim to these shows, but I won't do it. I CAN'T. I WON'T.
I can't...
with this headshot of my child and you shouldn't be able too either. If any of the handful of pet modeling agencies I've contacted happen to be reading this, YOU'RE MISSING OUT. THIS GIRL COULD SELL ANYTHING. ANYTHING, I TELL YA!
I can't...
recognize myself the past few weeks. Look, I've been on this healthy lifestyle thing for over a year now, sure. But when I'm really single — like no prospects, no weeknight plans, forgot-what-a-sex-drive-feels-like single (HA jk) — it increases tenfold. I want to try every new, healthy recipe I find online, make bulk meals AHEAD OF TIME TO EAT FOR THE WEEK, and... last week... I worked out every fucking day. What? I didn't plan it, I swear. I'm never trying to be that overkill girl. It just happened. Because when you are trying to not spend money, have no guy influencing you to skip the gym and eat crap with him, or even just sit on the couch and love on each other, what else is there to do but GET SWOLE. FIT AND LIT, Y'ALL. FIT AND LIT. Might as well capitalize on it while it lasts, eh? (crying inside) (not really, though) (a little) (but seriously, not really).
K, bye!
xox,
