By the Numbers

A quick status update. Because why not.
*I am more addicted to facebook than a woman my age should be. That number shall not be disclosed at the present time.
*This Wednesday, Jim turns... just kidding Jim. Do you even remember the actual number at this point?
*I am sick. Very sick. I may not pull through. I have been sick all week, and I finally got bored yesterday, so I went out at 2:30 to watch college football. I ended up staying out about 12 hours. I am now sicker.
*I have eaten almost an entire chocolate pie in 3 days.
*I miss my friend. 7 weeks is a long, sad time to not have your friend.
*Plaxico Burress shot himself yesterday. I think that is karma. He's kind of a jackass. More jackasses should shoot themselves in non-life-threatening ways. There is no number attached to this, it's just on the television.
*I drive home for Christmas in 3 weeks from tomorrow. Aside from my two Rebecca Minkoff bags and some expensive dental work, zero presents have been purchased by me.
*See, you bugged me for like 5 years to write more often. This is what happens.

A surprisingly contented Thanksgiving.

Hi all.
I am surprisingly content.
It's Thanksgiving.
I'm sitting on the couch, all by my lonesome. I have a glass of wine next to me (not the first, I do confess, or the last, I admit...), a belly full of white bread, spinach casserole, and chocolate pie. I'm watching Bee Movie and the Cowboys, simultaneously. I am hopped up on DayQuil, because I've been sick all week. I have a fake tooth in my mouth.
And I'm surprisingly content.
Tomorrow I'll be mad at myself for eating crap, and a lot of it. And just to add insult to injury, I'll have to do the dishes. God willing I'll be a little hung over. I'll still be a month away from my family. I can only imagine that I won't be married, or pregnant. That might depend on how much wine goes down, but we'll save that for another post.
But today, it's Thanksgiving. I have a job, amazing friends, the apartment to myself, no need for a shower, heat and electricity and cable, a pretty good sense of humor, no one to answer to, and one still-functioning nostril. The right one.
Happy Thanksgiving, all.

Oh, like you don't have a few in your basement, too.

My dear Daniella, worried about what will become of me when the puppies have grown and moved on, along with my destitute single status, has an answer for everything.
Behold.

Brain Dump

I'm having one of those stretches where my brain actually hurts. It's going in about a hundred and twelve different directions, so there is little to no chance that any of this post will come across coherently. But I need to dump some of it out to make room. You know what I need? I need a pensieve. Like Dumbledore in Harry Potter. Just a magic wand to stick to my head (no comments...) to drain out all the stuff I don't really need. Seriously, I am simply not cut out for all this thinking. And the shitty thing is that it's never important stuff -- I'm up at night thinking about things that I either don't have any control over, or don't actually NEED any control over. Like work, for example. Work is insane (actually what's insane is that I have "work" to complain about -- since when did I end up with a grown-up job? Dammit.). Why am I up at night worrying about work? I am not anything life-saving, like a brain doctor, or anything super cool, like an astronaut. I am an editor. And an odd job girl, no matter what my boss says. If I could do nothing but write and write and write all day long I would be so thrilled. The things currently occupying my brain, in no particular order:
*puppycam. Have you guys seen this?? These people in San Francisco set up a webcam in the area where they're keeping six 5-week-old Shiba Inu puppies. It is ridiculously wonderful to watch, and frightening how little I'm accomplishing during the day. Check them out. At your own risk.
*my tooth. I ATE my tooth last week. Bit into a Kashi bar on Saturday morning, and half my tooth broke off. I narrowly avoided a root canal, but now I've got a temporary crown in my mouth till after the holiday and it hurts and it's ugly and I hate it because it makes me feel old. This is the kind of event where it would be really great to be able to call my boyfriend, have him drive 10 hours to see me, take me to the dentist, make me food, and just generally love and baby me for a few days.
*my lack of a boyfriend to do any of the above mentioned care-taking. I know I'm supposed to be embracing my singleness and living some fabulous Carrie Bradshaw-esque life right now, and I'm trying. I'm going out (sometimes). I'm being social (sort of). Being available (okay, that's an outright lie). The problem is, I hate dating. I'm kind of stand-offish so I hate random losers coming up and trying to talk to me in the bar. I want to skip those steps and go straight to boyfriend. I even already know the one I want, and he's being a douchebag.
*work. Yep, still not for me.
*the ridiculously gorgeous, obscenely expensive Rebecca Minkoff handbag I just treated myself to. Do I deserve a treat? Not particularly. Can afford a treat? Not even close. And yet, here it is, looking up at me in all its buttery, leathery, perfectly constructed glory.
*how I'm going to avoid buying ANOTHER ridiculously gorgeous, obscenely expensive handbag, because the seal is broken and I can't turn it off.
And it pretty much just goes on from there, like that. Can you see how hard it is to be me sometimes?

Put That in Your Trumpet and Smoke It

I am the self-proclaimed, indisputably least political human being ever.
The only election I've ever really gotten excited about was Alexander Payne's.
I have developed the habit of answering "Who did you vote for?" with a question of my own: "When was the last time you had sex?" It's that personal, and that inappropriate to discuss with complete strangers.
I don't even particularly like overly aggressive salespeople -- which is basically what most politicians amount to -- and no snarky, well-heeled chick from, say, Victoria's Secret has ever interrupted my evening television program to tell me why she's the best salesgirl for me, why her store should be my only choice, or that the unfortunate girl working down the mall at Frederick's of Hollywood may actually be a spy/terrorist/socialist.
That being said.
This is an important day. Rarely do we know that going into a day so when we do, it should be with eyes and ears open. Wide awake and paying attention.
I'm not going to lecture you on your duty, what's at stake, historical significance -- can't you just hear the trumpets starting in behind me -- mostly because I have no damn idea about any of that stuff. I told you. Least political person. Ever.
But I do think this buzz in the air, this "calm before the storm" feeling that's permeating the city -- the country -- is pretty exciting. We need something to get fired up about and stand behind, don't we? A little inspirational kick in the pants. No matter what tomorrow morning looks like, it will look different than tonight. And I feel like most people, regardless of which way you lean (and I could care less, frankly) think different sounds good.
So here's the only thing I want to ask of you.
Please, if your candidate doesn't win, spare us the melodrama that you're moving to Canada. Just shut up about it and pack, if that's really how you feel.
I'm just really proud to live somewhere (trumpets again?) where we can talk about it -- let alone fight about it and then mock it all irreverently on Saturday Night.
Just vote.
But more importantly, in my mind, pray about what will be best for this country, and then follow your heart in that direction.
We're gonna be just fine.
I'd bet my trumpet on it.