The ramblings of a somewhat bawdy, opinionated, pop-culture-loving thirty-some-year-old woman who feels like sharing her random thoughts with the world.
Well, 2018 has started off with a bang. Sub-zero wind chills, a middle-schooler disguised as President tweeting the most insane remarks, and to top it all off, I got the stomach flu.
I haven't had a stomach flu in 7 years (and I only remember that because of this post). I haven't missed it. Of course, now I have my Fitbit telling me just how lethargic I've been over the past 2 days. I guess it will come in handy if anyone at work gives me grief. Oh, and the hourly reminders that I should get up and walk were not appreciated.
A whopping total of 415 steps all day! I'm guessing most of them were taken between my bed and the bathroom.
You think I got enough sleep last night?
Let me add that I believe "stomach flu" should be added as an exercise. I haven't felt my ab muscles this tight in a loooong time.
So, today I'm on the mend but still a bit meh. I have to say, I'm enjoying those everyday activities such as:
Drinking more than a sip at a time in hopes it doesn't come back up
Eating foods other than dry toast and applesauce (neither of which I enjoy)
Showering and applying deodorant
Brushing my teeth
Coffee? We'll see.
Wearing something other than pajamas. (I've upgraded to leggings)
Opening the blinds
Being upright for more than 15 minutes at a time
Let's hope that this is some sort of purification for the beginning of a new year and things look up from here.
I have always been a notorious car singer. As long as I've been driving, I've been singing along to just about everything. Well, that's when I'm alone in the car anyway. I'm shy.
As I was driving to work this morning, I realized I was sitting there in silence. I had music blasting as I always do, there were songs that I'd usually sing along with, and I just sat there stone-faced. And then I realized I couldn't remember the last time I sang anything.
Singing has always been my release, my way of expressing happiness, of getting over anger, of working through my nerves, and the car has always been the one place I can do it in peace. It's just natural for me.
This lack of singing seems to say quite a bit about how I'm doing. What it means, I don't know, but it must mean something, right? Things are awry. I am not my normal self.
I'm tired of having to wear one pair of shoes to work while stowing another pair in my bag.
I'm tired of my winter coat getting covered in salt every time I walk past my car.
I'm tired of having to lug my coat with me to the store or to doctor's appointments.
I'm just tired of my winter coat.
I'm tired of taking 15 minutes to bundle up and having to wear 2 pairs of pants in the morning just to take the dogs outside.
I'm tired of icy, snow-covered roads that can't seem to get plowed properly.
I'm tired of snowbanks so high along the roads that I can't see any possible oncoming traffic.
I'm tired of frozen boogers and styrofoam-sounding snow.
I'm tired of dirty brown grey salt-slush on everything.
I'm tired of the fear of slipping on hidden ice any time I walk outside.
I just want to take a spontaneous, leisurely walk out in the sun, breathing deeply without my lungs freezing, and I want it now!
Okay, spoiled Veruca Salt moment over. I'm completely aware that I live in Wisconsin and by doing so, am subject to dealing with long, annoyingly colder than Alaska winters from time to time. Carry on.
My husband and I sat in the bleachers mentally preparing for the next hour of 6th through 8th graders with loud instruments searching for tempo, correct notes, and some sort of melody, while at the same time restraining ourselves from strapping down the young children who thought stomping up and down the bleachers and making as much noise as possible was a great way to kill time.
Darling hubby turns to me, under the harsh glow of the florescent lights, smiles lovingly and says, "I love seeing all the grey hairs you have."
Yes, I know I'm getting older and I've seen a few greys here and there and I don't pull my hair back in public anymore because they tend to stick out like a sore thumb when I do, and I've noticed more and more in my hairbrush, but, but... I'm blonde and they're like highlights, right?
Right! Wisdom highlights! I'm older and getting wiser. Yes, it says so on Pinterest, so it has to be true.
"I think it's time you bite the bullet and start coloring your hair."* And with that, the 6th grade band began. I picked my jaw up from off of the bleacher in front of me and sat there, wide-eyed, trying to look interested in whatever it was supposed to be that they were playing, while obsessing about how many other people were looking at my head, thinking I'm much older than I am, wanting to put my jacket back on and hide my hair in the hood.
Crap.
*Please note my hubby isn't being mean or judgmental. He knows how I feel about this stuff and knows I've been trying to hold off as long as possible and apparently I can't put it off any longer.
I didn't want to have to start spending money on that. I mean, I'll have to do it myself so it will be cheaper, but it takes maintenance and upkeep - things I don't like to bother with. And I'll have to find the right color. Ugh! Finding the right color isn't easy. Do I stick with my natural color? Do I go a little different and pretend I'm a new person? I could fail miserably and look like a washed out old starlet or a total goth, depending on the route I took. Maybe I should just say screw it and color it all grey so I can match my mother and get it over with.
Oh the stress of vanity and ego! I need a stylist to figure this out for me. Too many other things to think about right now. I'll think about it tomorrow.
This little annoying guy was created by Matthew Inman over at The Oatmeal. He stands for everything that I fight with when I know I should make better life choices or pushing myself further, but find myself caving or giving up.
Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, take a look at this and you'll read all about him.
Now, I don't run long distances, but I deal with The Blerch on a daily basis. This panel shows you what he says to me almost every morning:
I started agreeing with him more and more. I used to get up every morning at 5:15am, walk into our spare room (sometimes when the temp was in the 50's in there) and have Shawn T kick my butt either with Insanity or Focus T25, and then meditate for a little while. But it got easier and easier for me to listen to the chubby winged deceiver and I would sleep in more and more. Bed is cozy. I am old. I didn't get as much sleep the night before as I wanted to. You see the pattern.
That ended today. (Well, okay, it would have ended today if I had turned on the proper alarm - but I still ran a mile. That's something, right?) The hubby and I are starting...again. Low carb, no refined white stuff, exercising religiously, and becoming healthier people. Again. We did it once, the Blerch won us over, we can do it again.
I have 20 pounds that I want to melt away. I will not obsess with my weight, but I will obsess about making the right choices. These choices will make the weight go away on its own. Getting up in the morning like I know I should. Not eating that piece of cake in the cafeteria that's probably hard and stale, but still there so I eat it anyway. Staying away from the vending machine and it's never ending supply of Gardettos.
I know I've written posts about this numerous times before, and the fact that I have to continue writing the same thing over and over is very disappointing to me. I've disappointed myself and that just will not do.
I've made The Blerch my profile picture on Facebook, stuck his picture in my fridge and put the panel you see above on my phone so it's the first thing I see in the morning. I will not cave in to this guy any more, dang it.
There are many things about my appearance that I don't like. I freely admit that and am working on improving what I can and dealing with what I cannot. There was one thing that I found on a photo taken last year that made me take a step back.
Apparently I have jowls.
Seriously. Jowls.
via Biography.com
I'm not even 40 years old yet and I'm beginning to resemble Churchill? What the freaking hell?!
Yet there they are, just flapping in the breeze...
So what do I do about them? Well, according to the almighty Internet and the wisdom that springs forth from it...plastic surgery! Ugh, no. That's not gonna happen. Next best bet...exercises!
No, no, no. Not like that.
So now on top of the exercising I'm doing in the morning and the running I'm trying to do after work, I have to find time to do these:
The only time I can think of to fit them in would be while I'm sitting at my desk. You know - in the office with one wall full of windows. I should get some great looks from people walking by while I'm doing the Lion Face...
Ren·ais·sance [ren-uh-sahns, -zahns, -sahns, ren-uh-sahns, -zahns, -sahns] noun (lowercase) a renewal of life, vigor, interest, etc.; rebirth; revival: a moral renaissance. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Remember that funk that I was talking about before? It actually lasted quite some time. It started long before I posted that entry, but I hadn't really realized it. Looking back at some of my posts before that one, I can see it. I let myself go, not caring, no direction, no goal, just getting by. I had stopped exercising, stopped meditating, ate anything and everything without a second thought about carbs or calories or cholesterol, sat around the apartment after work doing nothing. I was becoming a sloth. Then I saw what was going on. I gained 15 pounds from the lowest weight I had been at which was about this same time last year. 15 pounds! I tried running again and where I was once able to run 5 miles, I could barely make it around the block. I wasn't happy. Not with myself, my job, what I was doing (or not doing) with my life so after a short amount of time dwelling in self-pity, I came to a decision: On Tuesday, I will be starting over. My own renaissance. I will be exercising every morning again - I am so looking forward so kicking my own ass once again before heading to the office. I have updated my resume and will actively pursue the search for a new way to spend 8.5 hours per weekday. I will be meditating daily. I will be drastically lowering my carb intake and watching my portion sizes again. I will be cutting way back on my alcohol - limiting it to weekends only. I'm thinking I should be able to lose that 15 pounds again in 2 to 3 months. Thankfully my awesome husband will be doing the same so we'll be able to help each other along the way. Oh - and I had a good length of my hair chopped off. Perhaps symbolic, perhaps just in need of a change. I'm putting this out there so I know that people have seen it and will hold me accountable. I'm pretty good at doing something once I have a goal - I just needed that goal to work towards. Bear with me as I post from time to time on my progress and please...I could use all the encouragement I can get. That self-confidence level is in need of a boost again. :) Here comes Rebecca version 3.0
You may find yourself bursting into tears for no apparent reason today, Aquarius. Seek comfort in sitting by a body of water where you can let your emotions flow. Tension builds as the storm draws near. Once it has passed, however, there is calm as the sunshine pierces the clouds. This time of peace and serenity may seem far off, but it's closer than you think.
I burst into tears this morning, but that had a reason - I had to go back to work after having four wonderful days off. Waaahhh!
I don't want any more tears and I want my serenity and sunshine now!
Recently we had a very large Japanese group staying in the hotel that I work in. In fact, they basically took every room in the place. When I would venture into the lobby area, it would be filled with Japanese men in suits, speaking to each other in a language I did not understand at all. Other than the few employees who were tucked away in a corner, I felt like I was the odd man out. It seemed like, even though the surroundings were familiar, I was in a foreign country. Like I could walk out of those doors and I'd be somewhere completely different. Or maybe that's just what I was wishing for.
This feeling of disorientation was compounded by the fact that I the one friend that I had at work for the past 6 years had just moved away and I felt like I was stuck there alone. My sense of normalcy was gone. My routines blown. My momentary escapes to his office to chat about upcoming movies or TV shows, or discuss work items that were pissing us off were no more. He got out - I remained.
I had my review and though it was a glowing review, my boss told me that she knows I'm not happy there sometimes. Asked if I'm looking for a new job and if so, what I would be looking for in this area. She knows there's not much out there. Another hotel? Another admin job? Something completely different? I had no answers. I don't have a direction.
She said it's up to me to find my happiness here, which I know is true...if I want to stay. If I want to cross-train in another department, do it. If I want to change my job somehow, she's all for it. She said I need to leave my office more - get out and make more friends in the hotel. The problem is, I've tried. I have very little in common with the people I work with. I've written about it before. We don't have similar interests, they're either younger or older than I am, I don't care about fashion. Sometimes it's like they're speaking a language just as foreign to me as the Japanese gentleman who were surrounding me in the lobby.
I know I need to make a change. I need to figure out how. I need to find a place where I fit, where I'm not walking among people I don't understand. And I'll have to do it on my own.
Because I seem to be having a low day today, (feeling fat, old, stuck, melancholy, ancient, achy, unaccomplished, uninteresting, lethargic, and did I mention old?), I decided to try to enlighten and enrich my day with this Massive Attack song. I'm not sure that it worked, but it still has a good message so I thought I'd share it with you.
Not major issues. I don't want to crawl in a hole and pretend it's not happening. I'm still going to be taking the day off tomorrow, having my "me" day and celebrating, but today something hit me and 38 is sounding really freaking old!
In an effort to make myself realize that other people born the same year as I am don't seem old, I hit up my old friend, the Internet. I found some very interesting things. Angelina Jolie and I were born the same year. So were Eva Longoria, Bradley Cooper and Christina Hendricks. They're not old! Of course, they're much better looking than I am to start off with, can use the highest priced beauty items, afford gym memberships (or more likely, their own home gyms/personal trainers) and they're not forced by lack of funds to shop at Wal-Mart for food that is far from organic.
I'm not sure if this made me feel better or worse.
I have been on the verge of an anxiety attack (or in the midst of a mild one) all day. Possibly even longer than that - I don't know. I've never had one before...that I know of. All I know is that all day today, and for some time last night when I was trying to get to sleep and at the end of last week for a little while, I've been so tense that it feels like my skin is crawling, my heart rate accelerates from time to time, my mind shoots from one thing to another and I can't focus, I've been dizzy and on the verge of a headache and anytime I'm presented with any little bit of tension, my heart feels like it's about to jump right out of my chest until I breathe my way out of it. What the hell?!
I'm the mellow laid-back one. I don't stress out. I don't let things get to me. I mean, yeah - things have been pretty stressful lately, but they're now starting to turn around. And I had a couple of little hiccups in my groove today, but nothing that isn't going to be okay soon. I don't get it. Why now? And why ever?!
I looked it up on WebMD (because that's the first thing you should always do), and my symptoms matched perfectly. I looked up the causes and it said, "Anxiety may be caused by a mental condition, a physical condition, the effects of drugs, or from a combination of these." Gee, that's helpful.
Okay, fine. I know I'm having some sort of attack so what do I do about it? Ever-knowledgeable WebMD suggests the following:
Exercise. I do this every morning.
Meditation. Again, every morning - sometimes just a quick one and other times for an hour or so.
Don't partake in illegal drugs. Ummmm...duh.
Stay away from caffeine and chocolate. I don't think my one cup of coffee routine is making me wacko, nor is the possible one bite of chocolate I take a day.
So, I'm already doing everything I'm supposed to be doing in order to help calm any anxiety, but I'm still sitting here full of anxiety! So does this mean that I have some sort of a mental problem? Am I going to have to start taking medication? Oh great, one of the other symptoms is fear of having more attacks. Gah!
Okay, okay....I'm going to sit here in my office surrounded by the fragrance of "Sandalwood and Soothe", say some mantras, listen to some 16th century lute music, and sip on some Zen tea. If that doesn't do the trick, someone better have me committed.
I had the unexpected pleasure last night of having 3 1/2 hours of time to myself. And in my own home, no less! I was shocked. I didn't know what to do with myself.
Do I read a book?
Do I dance around like a silly white girl?
Do I meditate without interruption for as long as I want?
Do I watch stuff that nobody else wants to watch?
Do I reorganize the kitchen?
Do I read naughty grown-up stories on the internet?
Do I try to draw or write?
Do I call people and talk to them without a bunch of noise behind me?
Do I plan out my wardrobe for the rest of the week?
Do I take a nice long bath?
So many possibilities that I spent most of the time trying to figure out what I should do with my time while watching it pass by without me actually taking advantage of it.
I'm having a bad self-image day today. It all started when I weighed myself this morning, as I do every morning (apparently just to torture myself) and found that I gained a couple of pounds. Freaking unacceptable! Of course it is only a couple of pounds, but as soon as I looked at myself in the mirror I saw myself with my original 30 extra pounds of flab. Man, the brain is a cruel, manipulative organ. So, I showered and put on clothing that makes me look 10 times worse - a long skirt and an insanely bulky sweater because for some reason the people at work think that even though it's 33 degrees outside, we need the AC on, and I can't bear shivering all day. I got to the office and realized that because I'm in desperate need of a haircut and this inch-thick sweater is only making my hair tangled and full of static, so I threw my hair up in a dollar-store clip. Then as I looked in the restroom mirror to make sure that everything was in place, I realized that putting my hair up accentuates the beautiful grey hairs that have sprung up all over the place as they seem to glisten in the oh so flattering, skin-crease-enhancing fluorescent lighting that is blazing from above. So now I'm fat and old. Of course, that couldn't be it. Noooo... My eyes are tired and strung out from looking at computer monitors day in and day out, so I had to throw on my glasses as well. Awesome!
I apologize in advance for any lack of clarity in my writing as I am coming out of a NyQuil coma and am hopped up on Sudafed. (See NSFW video below.)
I have had a cold for 4.5 days now. I know, colds happen all the time - especially now that the kids are back in school. Here's the thing...I rarely get sick. If I get a cold, my body fights it off and I just get little bits and pieces of symptoms that just kind of say hello, but nothing really ever comes of it. This time, I got knocked on my ass. And the thing is, it's mainly just a minor head cold, but it is so utterly draining that all I've done for the last 2.5 days is lay around or sit on my ass.
It's probably my own fault. I haven't been getting a lot of sleep over the past few weeks because I've been getting up early to work out and going to late-night lectures, so my body was probably too tired to fight it off. So by me trying to become healthier, I caused myself to get sick. Oh life, what a convoluted game you play.
Now add to the sickness and lethargy the constant need to eat. And not just eat anything, but my body is craving carbs. The evil white stuff that I've been limiting in my diet has now become the one thing my body wants to ingest. I've read that this is because my body needs fuel to fight off the virus, but why can't I be craving oranges or tomatoes instead? Pretzels and Bugles and toast and noodles - that's what my body wants. Screw the vitamins, gimme junk!
I have this fear that by the time I'm finally over this thing, I'll have gained 15 pounds and won't be able to do the exercises I've worked my way up to, thereby causing me to say "fuckitall" and go back to my existence of XL clothes, bread dough appetizers and extremely low self-esteem.
Of course, maybe that's just the NyQuil and Sudafed talking.
I went to an event the other night with my husband, bought some new clothes, total girly shoes, I thought I looked amazing. My husband thought I looked amazing. I was totally Wonder Woman.
And then I saw pictures from the night and I felt much more like this:
I'm not sure which one I truly resembled more to those around me. I know it was somewhere in-between the two, but it just goes to show that self-image sure is a bitch.
Side-note...Googling images of "fat Wonder Woman" comes up with many more selections than I could have imagined. There are some sick puppies out there.
This is just a little list of things that I want to have or have happen. I don't ask for much...usually.
A cheap alcohol that doesn't give me a headache. Why is this such a hard thing to find?
One of those soul-bearing conversations where you start opening up and just keep going until it all comes out. Then you feel 20 times lighter and you say, "I can't believe I just said all that," but it's okay because it's with one of your best friends and they don't judge - they just understand.
Any manager at work to offer to buy me a cup of coffee the same way they ask the other managers, or ask me if I want something from one of the places they take hour-and-a-half lunches at, or bring in a treat for the whole office. They have the money to do it...I don't.
A day to myself where I can watch whatever I want to watch or have the TV off all day, I can listen to music, sing along, dance, meditate, read, nap....mine to do with as I please.
A body like Peta Murgatroyd. I mean, come on!
I want her body.
Wait..not like that.
Speaking of coffee, a white chocolate mocha, no whip, sounds really good right now. I want one of those too.
A vacation paid for by someone else. Obviously this is the only way I'm going to be taking one any time soon.
A new wardrobe - of course, this should probably wait until after I have the body as shown above. I wouldn't want to spring for a new wardrobe now only to have to turn around and do it again when I'm a size 2. Ha! What am I talking about? My hip bones would never fit into a 2. Let's go with a 4. And that weight loss would have to be instantaneous because I don't want to have to waste money buying the sizes in between.
Laughter. Belly-aching, cheek-straining laughter. I chuckle, I giggle. I want a good laugh.
To be in control of time. It should speed up when I want it to, slow down when things are good, and sometimes even stand still. Why hasn't anyone figured this trick out yet?
For everyone to be happy. Is that really too much to ask for?
My husband had a wonderful idea to have a big family/friends outdoor party this summer. We haven't really done that in our years of marriage, so it sounded like a great idea. All I had to do was come up with a list of my friends to invite and he'd take care of the rest. Wow! Even better!
So yesterday I sat down and compiled my list. Not counting the small family that I have, the list consisted of 10 couples. That was it. And to make matters even more depressing, more than half of those people live over an hour away. Some much further than that. I would probably have 4-5 of them show up. All of the sudden I found myself thinking the same thing that I heard my middle-school-aged son ask me a couple of months ago: Why don't I have many friends?
I've always told my son, and I do believe this, that it's not the quantity of friends you have, it's the quality. That I've always had two or three close friends and I can get along with just about anyone, but those close friends mean the world to me. I guess when you grow up and life gets busy and people move away, you wish you had a little more of the quantity.
Having close friends, near or far, is that they'll be there in good times or in bad, no matter how long it's been since you've seen each other.. They're the kinds of people who would give you a place to stay when you finally went off your rocker and had to run from the law...while convincing you to turn yourself in if it was the right thing to do. If you were in the hospital after some sort of serious car accident, they'd make the trip to visit you. Well, maybe. Maybe they'd send a card. Eh.
My husband is the kind of guy who has friends left and right. He could easily fill up a party with 50 friends: People he hangs out with at bars, sees at karaoke, worked with once upon a time. I just don't think any of them are the type that he would call up when he needed to vent to someone or really needed a friend to turn to. I don't see any of them as being "close". Maybe I'm wrong.
I found myself getting jealous of the friends who had moved away. That because I'm still here in the same small town I grew up in and have been working in the same place for almost ten years, I haven't had the exposure or opportunity to make many new friends. You move to a different town and you meet a slew of new people. Some aquaintances, some become close. They are added to your list of friends and the more you move, the more the number increases. Those new friends become the people who get invited to parties, impromptu dinners, get phone calls to help out with things, see their lives day to day...while those of us left in the old hometown are just infrequent email recipients and facebook status updates and "likes".
I even told my husband at one point that I want to move so I can meet more people. He told me we just have to try to go out more. This is a small town. We have nowhere to go but small-town bars. I highly doubt we're going to find new friends sitting in one of those. Well, maybe he might...
Last night I sadly gave him my short guest list. He studied it for a couple of minutes and realized the percentage of people who would show up. Then he thought about who he was inviting and wondered how many of them, even if they lived close, would make the effort to come. We realized that it would probably end up being mostly family and just a couple of friends and wondered if we should even bother.
So that's where we stand. Do we bother making all the preparations, planning, spending money on the park shelter and have a small number of people who barely know each other and really have nothing in common show up, or do we go ahead with it and hope that our friends surprise us and show up?
P.S. I should give a big shout-out to my friends who still live in my hometown. We don't see each other nearly enough, but I'm so thankful you're still in my life. :)
Why is it that we never crave things like salad or green beans or, hell, even raisins? I've been trying to be so good about what I'm putting in my body (one considers whiskey healthy, right?) but all I can think about right now are chips and dips and breads and sweets and things that I shouldn't be eating.
Before we go any further, I should pause and say no, I am not pregnant. For some reason everyone's mind goes there when a woman is craving anything...or sick, or tired, or dizzy. It's crazy, really.
Moving on...
For months now I've been hungry for Pillsbury Crescent Rolls. Actually, I've been hungry for dinner recipes that I used to make using those tasty things. One is no healthier than the other. One was called Crescent Chicken Squares and made for tasty convenient leftovers for work the next day. The other was more of a comfort food and loaded with cheesy goodness...Cheesy Chicken Rollups. Yum!
Chicken Crescent Squares at Food.com
Now, considering that one of these tasty squares carries over 350 calories (let's not mention the carbs) and I usually eat 2-3 of them as a meal...this is a big DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT on my healthy food meter. But I can't help but think about them. They were so sweet and savory and creamy and flaky... Sigh.
And then there's snacks. I want Bugles, dammit! I want Bugles and chili dip or ranch dip. And I want Pringles and French onion dip. And I want cheddar and sour cream Ruffles. I also want fried mozzarella sticks, french fries, fried cheese curds, a gyro, and cheese, sausage and crackers.
This presentation of Bugles and dip is much fancier than
my normal bag & plastic dairy container
I sound like such a pig, but it's driving me crazy! Don't think I'm not snacking at all or starving myself. I eat my 1200 calories per day. Sometimes I have some Bacon Ranch popcorn from Popcorn, Indiana. Sometimes I even have half a serving of the wonderful bits of heaven on earth: Snyder's Bacon Cheddar Pretzel Pieces. (To DIE for!)
Have you tried this stuff yet?
If not, I highly recommend you do.
I think I'm just getting sick of them and need a week of naughtiness to get the cravings out of my system again. Then when I realize how bloated and crappy I feel, I'll go right back to my old ways again. Right?
Ugh - no. I know that's not good for me either.
Can someone recommend a vegetable that tastes like chips and dip?
Ugh, I just realized something about myself and it makes me ill. For years, I've been the kind of person I can't stand - the "woe is me" attention whore. The only difference is that I didn't put it out there for the masses, it was just in emails or messages to one person at a time. My god, those poor people!
Again, bored out of my mind, I took some time and went through some more old emails and messages and found a pattern in them. They went something like this:
Hello. How are you? Questions regarding the other person's life.
Complain about something in my life (money, health issues, job, money). Remind the other person that in the grand scheme of things, life isn't really so bad. Say something happy and uplifting and disgustingly optimistic. Turn around and complain a little more.
More questions about the other person's life. Subtly hint that I don't hear from him/her enough because I don't have a life and live to hear from other people. Wish them best and love and all that and close.
The thing that really sucks about going back and finding these is that I can't now email those people and apologize because it will seem like I'm drawing even more attention to myself which I'm so totally not doing. I guess the best thing for me to do is say mea culpa, laugh about it (apologetically) in this ever so private blog, and refrain from ever doing that to my besties again. (Blech - the thought of me even saying besties makes me vomit a little.)
So yeah...sorry guys! I promise I'll be a happier emailer from now on. (And why didn't you point it out to me in the first place? Sheesh!)
