Not much has changed since Chel’s diary entry from my 8th birthday—I’m still fun at sleepovers, and we’re all still a little afraid of our cousin, May! Ha.
I love that she still has all of her old diaries. I used to send people handwritten letters, but I didn’t start documenting my life until I started this blog in my early twenties. I never expected to keep it going for this long, but here we are 15 years later! For the three of you who have stayed tuned to this blog, thanks for sticking it out with me after all these years. Here’s to the next 15!
I just binge watched two seasons of Casual, and I can’t believe this lady is only supposed to be five years older than me.
In her defense, I get carded all the time. Also, some dude coaching youth track at the park during lunch last week asked me if I was in high school! Sir, if you’re trying to get me to join your track team, I’m in my thirties. And more importantly, I don’t run.
We were watching TV at my mom’s house over the holiday, and right after they showed this part, my aunt paused it, turned to me with a concerned look on her face, and was all like, “You know you can talk to me, right???” I meannnn.
I caught up on seven episodes of How to Get Away with Murder with Pammie over the weekend. I’m dying to know what happens next, but I never watch this show by myself because I get too scared. I can’t wait till I’m home for Thanksgiving to find out who shot Annalise, so someone please come over when the new episode airs this Thursday!
Spoiler Alert: There will be frozen salmon from Costco (it’s the only thing I keep stocked in my fridge because holiday weight) and me with no pants on.
I’m doing it partly in preparation for all the BBQ and bad decisions I’ll be making in Austin next week, but mostly because I bet Anthony that I could lose twenty pounds by the time we went to ACL or I’d pay for his BBQ at Franklin. These last five pounds can’t be zumba’d off in a week, so I made a game-time decision to bring my juicer out of retirement yesterday.
I can’t wait to go on vacation! And also eat solid food again.
I usually enjoy being on my back, but this is getting ridic.
I’ve been living off muscle relaxers, pain killers and salon pas for the past three weeks. The cause is still unknown, but I’m pretty sure I went too hard at the Paul McCartney show! Ha.
I’ve been stressed out at work lately, and the doctor thinks I might be carrying the stress in my back. If only he could write me a doctor’s note forbidding me to work overtime. It’s the least he can do, since he won’t prescribe me more vicodin!
The power went out in my apartment building again last week! I was already running late, and I had to go back upstairs in the dark to tell the maintenance guy to manually open the garage gate so I could get to fucking work already. This has happened three times in less than two months! And these are only the incidents that I know of, because I spend less than 50% of my time in this apartment (unless a burglar is reading this, in which case I’m home all the time. Plus I always keep my sharpest pair of fabric scissors within reach. And I’m not afraid to cut you.)
Once I get my new car situation settled, I’m moving out of this overpriced shit hole and torching it on yelp!