True Confessions of a Quarter-Life Crisis

Eeesh...

2006-04-11T13:25:00.000-05:00

Feeling like a terrible loser today and I can't quite put my finger on as to why...

Looove these moods. Truly.

A few notable occurences: I'll be house-sitting for one of our country directors for four weeks starting on the 25th. Definitely cool for a few reasons, those being: the house is absolutely gorgeous and about 5 minutes from work. Wait, didn't I say there were a few notable occurences? I can't seem to think what the others are. Maybe there weren't any.

I'm feeling terribly fat, per usual. I also missed my workout yesterday, but am hoping to redeem myself this afternoon. Then I'm off to a surprise party for one of my best girls, figure I should attend, since I'm not going to be able to go to her real party on Friday anyway. Already dreading what to wear. Again, awesome.

Still very excited about going to my parents on Friday, keeping my fingers crossed that I actually make it, of course, since I'm flying stand-by. Things look good at the moment, however.

All right, I really really really need to get my ass on the ball and write these articles. I am just so uninspired. And whiny. Shocker...

Games, Jake. Silly Torturous Games.

2006-04-10T14:01:00.000-05:00

So, it was a really fun weekend, alas nothing new and exciting to report. Other than drinking my weight in Blue Cups. Why do I even have a blog? Honestly.

Possibly the first Alumni Weekend ever that I haven't gotten laid. Although, that feels like progress in a lot of ways. I really don't need to sleep with any of them. I know better. It only messes with my head in the long run. So, it's a good thing.

Tell that to my libido, though. If you can find it.

In a strange twist of events, it looks like I will be heading to my parent's for Easter. I was chatting with my mom last night and she was like, "we should get you a flight home," and then, incidentally, did. I am actually thrilled, except for not wanting anyone to see me in the resurgence of my chubby-awkward phase. But that's the thing about family. They really just love you. Just as you are.

I miss my niece terribly and am sooo thrilled to spoil her rotten all weekend (read: Friday night, Saturday and Sunday morning). Awhhh, bubba. Not her real name. We're not that fucked up.

The only downside of this, and it happens to be quite big, is that I'll be missing my best friend's birthday party. It's Friday and I've got to say, I am quite disappointed. Although I did spend the better part of March with her in some sort of tropical locale and haven’t seen the fam since Christmas. I'm lucky that she's such a baller that she won't even blink an eye...

I'm hoping to get my diet on track for the rest of this week and maybe I can really get some hardcore workouts in. I'd really like to be looking good when I go see the fam, you know, just a bit better than the last time the say me, anyway. Since my weight continues not to budge, my newest goal is to lose 12lbs by graduation: May 14th. This is going to require some dedication, but I know I can do it. I am just going to have to start reining myself in on the weekends and really start taking my workouts up a notch. No excuses.

K, back to the grind...

Score One: Upside

2006-04-07T11:40:00.000-05:00

Yeah, so I still have not budged a pound. Which is weird. But, the inches are still coming off. Here go the stats:

Bust: 30.5''
Waist: 29.5"
Hips: 37.75''
Thigh: 23.75"
Arm: 12"

On an upside, I did pass the swim test. (Yes, my university requires a swim test. Yes, I am as appalled as you are.) Downside, ran into His girlfriend. Upside, have the day off from work.

Chock one up to the upside. It is early, however...

The Boys are trickling in, hopefully I'll have at least a few tales from the trenches.

Let the drinking begin....

Two Words: Hell Week

2006-04-05T21:49:00.000-05:00

I have virtually no energy for anything remotely creative (essentially then, this will be like every entry except much shorter), so i will spare you my insolent whining.

Alas, I make it short and sweet: work is insane, although it will be over in one more day and I haven't quite decided whether I am excited for or dreading the arrival of The Boys. It's kind of like having to throw up...

So goes my life.

And here are my measurements from last Friday, before they disappear and I have nothing to compare my weight against (yes, amidst everything I manage to think about this):

Waist: 30.25"
Hips: 38.75"
Bust: 31"
Thigh: 24"
Arm: 12.25"

There that's it. I am now crawling in bed with my one and only savior: Harry Potter.

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch...

2006-04-03T13:37:00.000-05:00

Another lazy-ass weekend...

Not a damn thing new to report. I didn't go to the wedding because it is pollen-hell here, and had I been able to open my eyes on Saturday, I probably would have been excited to shower or get out of my pajamas, let alone make it all the way to a wedding. I did get in a few good workouts and watched a couple of movies, (omg, you HAVE to rent Memoirs of a Geisha). That is about the extent of my oh-so-exciting life. Rockin....

I have about a month's worth of research that needs to be done by Friday, appropriate then, that I am biding my time here talking about nothing . Time for this girl to get in the zone. I tend to do better under pressure, anyway, and the crazier this week becomes, the sweeter this weekend will be, as I am being forced to go out like a rockstar. I know, I know, social interaction. Crazy.

The Boys will be in town and in full-effect this weekend, which should prove interesting at the very least. Unfortunately, I'm not predicting any kind of sexual interaction whatsoever, but the "old me" is still getting a full-leg and bikini wax "just in case." I'm really at a place where sleeping with any of them is no longer worth it in terms of bullshit, as my man-whore quota is full for about the next five years. But damn, am I craving a lil physical attention. I mean, usually, after extended periods of celibacy, I have a tendency to lose interest. But this time around it has been the complete opposite. There is nothing in sight in that regard, I mean, at this point I'm just scraping by for a good go-to fantasy, for Christ's sake. Not to mention, the idea of getting naked in front of someone is about as appealing as the aforementioned hot wax.

So, yeah. Back to work.

Exciting Social and Sexual Exploits Forthcoming. No, Really...

2006-03-31T10:08:00.000-05:00

So, not feeling nearly as psychotic today, but I am slightly disgruntled after getting on the scale and noting that, despite another week of hard work, my weight had not budged one single pound. Argh. But, I'm not letting this get me down, as I have notably lost a few inches overall. This would be my usual time to give up completely and begin a weekend long binge. Not this time. I WILL be unbelievably hot for my 25th birthday and I am looking forward to the time when this blog becomes much more entertaining, filled with all my social and sexual exploits.

I was watching this show on FitTv the other night and one of the trainers said something that really resonated with me: "You can make excuses or you can make choices." Not quite sure why exactly that one hit the spot, but it did. I can give up when things don't go my way, or I can stick with and change will inevitably come. I'll opt for the latter, although, unfortunately, my dreams of being under 140 lbs by the time the boys roll in is looking less and less likely. So, here's the plan: 1. Definitely going to up the cardio, sprinting intervals for an hour 3 x week, high incline power-walking at least twice a week 2. Time to cut out my beloved frozen yogurt, at least during the week. It was keeping my sweet tooth in check, but I can do the same thing with fewer calories with a regular non-fat yogurt. And Lord knows I have issues with sticking with the 1/2 cup recommended serving size. 3. Also time to cut out my after workout protein smoothie. While this is low in calories, it is later at night, something I had qualms about, but the book I was following suggested it, so I figured I'd give it a whirl. Obviously not helping anything and I am getting plenty of protein during the day anyway.

So, starting next week, I'll go ahead and implement these changes and hopefully be feeling better then ever next Friday. Please.

So, the boss is out most of the day today, I am hoping hoping hoping that I can finally get over my writer's block and crank out this letter and my upcoming story. I have a huge project that needs to be done by the end of next week, so the more I can get done today, the better. At least a little structure should help me along. I just love how I am dying of boredom for days and then everything gets dumped in my lap on a Friday before a short week. Damn you Murphy's Law.

And no exciting plans for the weekend, just a weird shotgun wedding and a much needed pedicure this afternoon. I swear, when I get back in shape, I will have some more entertaining entries. Although this wedding may prove interesting on a few levels...

Hell Hath No Fury...

2006-03-30T09:26:00.000-05:00

I feel terrible today. Terrible. And I can not, for the life of me, put my finger on it. It could be my period, my diet, work, this annoying letter to the editor I'm writing about the atrocious demonstration by Students for Life on campus the other day. It could be because I am going to have see Him and all his friends next weekend, it could be because my little brother got his heart broken for the umpteenth time this week or because my conference in Boston fell through and I won't get to see my sister. I have no idea, it is probably some ridiculous conglomeration of all these things and more, I am sure there are ones floating around that I haven't named, as of yet. But for whatever reason, I am angsty as hell.

And I really really don't want to be at work today. Not in the least. This would in essence be the perfect day to play hooky, get a looooong workout in and then stay in all day watching movies. Alas, I have no more sick time for the rest of the month, no more petty time, and not even enough money to rent a fucking movie because I get paid tomorrow. I am trying to muster up the ability to just suck it up and at least get a ton of work done in hopes that time will fly by, but I am afraid that may just be wishful thinking.

What the fuck is wrong with me?! I felt great earlier this week, I don't know what happened to all my steam. And now that I am in ultra-negative mode, I am starting to get scared that I won't have lost any weight when I weigh in tomorrow. I have been working soooo hard, it would be devastating. I would really like to be under 140 lbs by the time the boys get here, and I am thinking that it's definitely time to kick my cardio up a notch. If any personal trainers come across this, I'd love to hear what you think. Right now I'm doing 45 minutes of circuit training, 3 times a week (basically, I do lighter weights with more reps, but I make sure to work my muscles to fatigue), abs 3 times a week, back work twice a week, and 4-6 days of hour-long moderate cardio. I have to be losing weight, it might just be in my head, but I feel like I can see a difference in my body already. My plan is starting next week to up my cardio sessions in terms of intensity. For the last two weeks I have been walking at a moderate, brisk pace for and hour, but I am thinking that now that I am getting back in the swing of things I should be able to up my cardio. At they very least, if it's too much, I can always take it back down. My plan is to start running intervals for an hour on the days that I circuit train (3 days a week) and on my off days, continue to walk but at a slower pace with a high incline. Then maybe, make Saturday a more moderate cardio day.

Okay, so constructively thinking about my workouts made me feel a little better. Now if I can just translate that energy into the rest of my day, I might actually stand a chance at surviving the longest week EVER. I am just soooo ready to see results and to start feeling the confidence that comes along with making all these changes. For better or worse, I have always been the kind of person who places a lot of value upon how I look, not so much in a superficial sense, but as more of a pay-off for all my hard work. I just want to be proud of myself, inside and out, once again.

Patience, Young Grasshopper

2006-03-29T14:47:00.000-05:00

I am officially bored, unmotivated and thoroughly ready to go home. And it's 2:47pm. Awesome. It's not my job, well it's partly my job, but today has just hit me as one of those slump days. As opposed to Hump Day, I suppose. Eeesh. The really terrible part is that as I sit (and there are a few things I could be doing, they're all just those back burner projects that are not imminent and once begun, have no end in sight) I am starting to think, "Should I really stay on for another year?" I mean, as much as I'm interested in the San Diego thing (I will still apply, there's no harm there), the more I look at jobs, the more I realize that to get anywhere, I am going to have to get some more experience. I think I just have a hard time coming to terms with starting from the bottom. I want to be traveling, doing something thrilling, making a shitload more than $18k a year. Alas, I am relegated to dwell among the bottom feeders.

The thing is, is that I am "fine" right here for now. I hate reaching the comfort zone, I am aching for something new, but the reality is, I have some security here. I have a decent position with an amazing company, great insurance, a good schedule and the potential for advancement, as well as the potential to garner a lot more experience, the kind of experience that translates well on a resume. I have great coworkers, a great boss and some great friends who will be sticking around. I am just ready for something fantastic all ready.

I really just need to get my shit together and start cranking out the work here. I should stick around for another year, work really hard, get a lot done, and then start looking again. I just feel like such a sheep, and I wonder, how am I ever going to be amazing if right now I feel so insignificant.

Patience, young grasshopper.

So Much for Adulthood.

2006-03-25T13:33:00.000-05:00

I might be in love with my best friend. And not because he's helping me with my taxes. Or because he let me and my girlfriends stay at his place for New Year's while he was in Chicago. Or even because he actually has a girlfriend now. Can you ever not really be sure of your feelings for someone? I have a LOT of reservations about it. I hardly ever see him, I'm not even sure if I'm attracted to him, I have slept with three of his close friends... The list goes on, but he is brilliant and funny and I adore him on all other levels and just wonder if it's just like the old adage, the thing that you're always searching for has been right in front of you all along.

On a lighter (and by lighter, I mean absolutely abysmal) note, I hate hate hate doing my taxes (just not a standardized form, little boxes, numbers kind of girl). For some reason, I just can not fathom how I only managed to make $8k worth of taxable income last year, yet owe Uncle Sam anywhere between $400 and $1500, depending on which time I did them and how badly I fucked them up at that specific moment. Said insanely amazing friend, we'll call him Bobby, says it's closer to the $400 range, my father says $800 on his rough count and I, quite possibly the most deplorable accountant of all time, came up with $1500 after running everything through TurboTax and calling anyone I could think of with any kind of math background bawling hysterically. I had this grand plan to wake up Saturday morning, make a healthy breakfast and do my taxes, the picture of maturity. The reality was, I slept in til 10:30, plowed through a bowl of Chocolate Lucky Charms and royally fucked up any ideas I had about managing myself financially. So much for adulthood.

Despite said setbacks, my week was highly productive in hindsight. In terms of all this body angst, I have been working out and eating really well for the most part, I even got up this morning (something I have been trying to do FOREVER) and worked out. I feel great, albeit a little speedy from the daytime cold meds I'm on. I was even right on time for work. Oh yeah. The thing is, this is the perfect time for me to get back at the top of my game. I have nothing holding me back, except for myself. Not to mention, I have a few aforementioned skeletons coming into town in a few weeks, along with Bobby, and would like to look absolutely ravishing by that time. And by ravishing, I mean, glowy and sexy and at least feeling confident. We all know I won't be slinking around in a size 2 by then, but at this point a little of the old me would go a looooong way in terms of my self-confidence.

And on maybe my brightest note, I found an amazing position with a company I adore in San Diego and am applying next week!!! This is going to sound hokey, but about a week ago, I was cruising channels and skipped through the Travel channel for all of 2 seconds, where they were doing some sort of special on San Diego. I don't know what it was, but something struck a chord. I have always thought about Southern California, but never in terms of tangible effort, but there was just this feeling when I crossed that clip. Then while randomly job searching (and I mean randomly, I have a lot of security in my current position and was hoping, if anything, that my next position would be through a referral here) I came across a company that I am a big fan of, looked into their job postings, scrolled forever, and then at the VERY LAST ONE saw a position that I am more than qualified for. And then saw that they are based in San Diego...

Coincidence (placing pinky to corner of mouth in Dr. Evil-esque gesture)?

Some People Do Arts & Crafts....

2006-03-24T10:58:00.000-05:00

Is it so wrong that my boss and I are creating a fake Match.com profile so that we can make fun of the other people in our office who have one? A friend was trying to persuade me to join by browsing through people in our area code and I realized (aside from the fact that paying for an online dating service championed by Dr. Phil just isn't my thing) that the pages were overrun with people at my company. The annoying part here, Dr. Phil notwithstanding, is that you can only see the pics when you're not a subscriber, not the profiles. Alas, we must take one for the team and sign up for the seven day free trial. I am DYING to see how Mr. I-Can't-be-Bothered-to-Fix-Your-Computer-I'm-Too-Busy-Being-Better-Than-You and Ms. I-Needed-That-Report-Five-Minutes-Ago-and-Can-You-Pick-Up-My-Lunch-While-You're-At-It? market themselves in this assemblage of middle-aged demise. Ahhh, the stale smell of thinly veiled desperation.

And yes, I KNOW it works for some people. Lighten up. Some people do arts and crafts, we judge.

Don't Cha...

2006-03-22T15:07:00.000-05:00

How am I always the other woman?!?! I just got off the phone with one of my best guy friends, and I mean we are truly friends, minimal sexual tension, used to date, lots of mutual old friends, the whole enchilada, and he told me that his girlfriend no longer feels comfortable with us talking anymore!!! She says that we can still be friends, but we should only talk 2 or 3 times a year!!! And he's listening to her!!!

I understand that women are inherently jealous at times, but never in my life would I ever have the balls to tell someone, insanely extenuating circumstances notwithstanding, that you can no longer talk to someone. That is just crazy!!! I mean, honestly... If you are that insecure, of a woman you have never met, who lives 1000 miles away, maybe you are shifting your eyes from the real focus, your FUCKING boyfriend. Hate, hate, hate when girls blame the "other" girl. It is petty and pathetic and TRUST ME bitches, it changes nothing. If you can't trust your boyfriend, than I am just a euphemism for the many girls who will come after me. He's either going to cheat on you or he's not. Period. There's plenty of pussy in the fucking sea, ladies. But thanks for fucking up a great friendship. And, no, don't think I am getting all double-standard, the guy is just as bad if he goes along with it. Ugh.

The sick sad part is that this is not even close to the first time this has happened to me. With the exception of jail-boy-ex, all of my ex-boyfriends have gone on to meet their soul mates (or at least the woman they marry) IMMEDIATELY after me. An alarming trend. And their significant others somehow see me as a threat and won't let them have anything to do with me. I am a great girl! I am funny and smart and they would probably get along great with me if they gave me half a chance! I have never knowingly slept with someone's boyfriend, husband, etc. and am tired of being treated like some kind of conniving whore!

Oh the melodrama. Is this really my life?

Have Bottom Size of Brazil

2006-03-22T11:33:00.000-05:00

Everyone writes their blogs at work, right? I mean, part of me feels slightly guilty, while the other part of me rationalizes that I need to do something to kill the half hour I have until lunch and that it's way too short an amount of time to start anything productive. Or something.

I also thought to myself upon starting this that I wouldn't write unless I had truly had something to say, so you'll have to bear with me. I am still debating whether or not I should post my stats somewhere in here to remind myself of my quest for eternal hotness. Is it tacky? I am dieting with a girlfriend, and we have plans to weigh in every Friday, so I was thinking of something along the lines of updating once a week. It probably won't matter. I'm not exactly telling anyone about this bad boy and don't expect that anyone might just casually come across it.

So, why the hell not? If it doesn't serve as a motivating factor, well then, I can stop doing it, and if it does, well, all the better for me. So, if anyone does begin to randomly read this, feel free to drop me a line on weather or not you actually give a shit about knowing how much I weigh or the diameter of my biceps. Thrilling, I know. And as I rant about my weight, just as a disclaimer, I am aware that I am not the hideous beast I make myself out to be. I have put on a ton of weight and remember having a Playboy hot body (when they actually came to my school two years ago to shoot Girls of the ACC, I was approached by a photographer and asked to audition. Big sigh.), but I do occasionally show my face in public although I have relegated myself to figure-flattering black numbers, ridiculously high stilettos in an attempt to balance out what I have taken on in the middle and accentuating my boobs (which are one on the few physical benefits of weight gain). There are even a succinct population of men in my life who think I look way hotter now that I ever have (including the dreaded Him). The problem is that I have noticed that I am beginning to avoid social situations, take any type of rejection as a direct connection to my weight and am losing a lot of the confidence that I used to value as one of my best assets. I just want to feel hot again.

So, fine. Here are the dreaded numbers that I have come to terms with as of March 19th, 2006:

Weight: 146.5 lbs
Bust: 32"
Waist: 31"
Hips: 39"
Arms: 12.5"
Thighs: 24.5"

Ahhh, yes. There they are. Read 'em and weep. I do. And yes, I know, they could be way worse and way better. They basically put me on par with the average American woman for better or worse. I am a cute girl and people who didn't know me when I was skinny skinny would hardly bat an eye. But I am tired of staring at closet full of cute clothes that no longer fit, I'm tired of going out in all black, I am tired of hiding from vacation and birthday pictures when I'm out with friends and family and even more tired of what the few photos I manage to appear in reveal. So wish me luck.

P.s. - I talked to Him last night, and apparently sleeping with me the last time has done miracles for his relationship. Made her realize how much he means to her. So happy to have helped.

A Return to Normalcy

2006-03-21T11:55:00.000-05:00

I really must say, this isn't even remotely close to my emotional rock bottom. I would say, however, that in some respects, it's undeniably worse. At your absolute worst, you are indifferent and incapable of change. Things are shit and you are complacent in them. You wallow around in emotional purgatory until, wham, one day you are shaken awake. By some friend, or job, or incident that sends your entire pathetic state of existence spiraling back towards that inescapable place called reality.

At your emotional worst, you want so desperately to be normal, but have no idea how to even begin. There is no light at the end of the tunnel, if you could even find the tunnel, or even a map for that matter. It's like how politicians rail after times of national strife and global-scale disasters, "the return to normalcy." The bottom sucks, the top is elusive and the middle, where the real struggle takes place is overarching and inevitable.

But, I digress. I swear that 90% of the time I am not nearly that morbid. I just have a tendency to go off on tangents. It's the hater in me. And while I don't necessarily consider myself pessimistic or even remotely a negative person, I am, extremely jaded. With good reason.

Here's where the quarter-life crisis comes in: my 25th birthday looms (t minus 5 months), I am single, without an iron in the fire, I am constantly attracted to unavailable men, terrified of rejection, completely out of touch with my body and desperately trying to lose 30lbs (k, desperately may be an overstatement, I could be trying harder. But that's where this is headed...), I work for an amazing company, but feel like I am getting lost in the shuffle and am somehow powerless to change it. And as fantastic as they are, they are a non-profit, so amidst my transcendental wanderings, I am making crap money.

I am, in essence, completely bogged down in the semantics of most 20-somethings. Jaded, confused, frustrated and piss poor. Good times.

And here's the clincher. I wasn't always this way. I attribute much of the drama and most of the weight gain to the last two WORST years of my life. At my most perfect, I was still flawed, of course, but then again, I was at least feeling like I was at the top of my game. That's what matters. As my girl Bridget says, "It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces." I had just broken free of a 3-year going-absolutely-nowhere relationship. Great guy, bad timing. Story of my life. I was just beginning my life, he was settled in his. We'll stay friends, sure. Peace out, suckahs.

Or so I thought. After the break-up I made plans to move on with my life and planned a move cross-country. The ex, not so much. In his quest to get over me, he started a drinking habit that culminated in driving his 700lb Harley into a 9 year-old girl on a bike path on a Sunday afternoon. He ended up doing a year in prison. Needless to say, I don't feel responsible for his actions, the man was 28 years-old at the time, but I still cared and it was a quite a weight on my shoulders.

Alas, I put all the small town drama behind me and prepared to get out of Dodge once and for all. I had a slightly liberal summer, where I finally managed to make up for all the lost time I had spent tangled up in the sticky web that we call long-term relationships. I didn't sleep around, but let's just say, I had my fun. One particular sexual endeavor involved a hottie ex-Marine bartender who I went to high school with. It was fun and seemingly nothing, I moved away without a care. Unfortunately he would get my sister pregnant three months later. My little sister. Ahhh fate, you saucy minx you. They were married August of last year, with yours truly as the maid-of-honor. They now have a beautiful 20 month-old girl, a house and, as if to rub salt in the wound, a Golden Retriever. Yeaaah.

But the move had done me good. Reveling in my fresh start, I excelled in my classes at a top-ranked Southern college and lost, drum roll please, an additional 10lbs, bringing my weight down to an all-time low of 109lbs. I felt so hot I hardly even got on the scale. I had a blast. I was single, brilliant, sexy, funny and charming as all get out. Life was good.

Bring on the Curse. As a features writer for one of the top-ranked collegiate newspapers in the country, I had the opportunity to meet tons of new people and experience things I never thought possible. I auditioned for MTV's the Real World, went to a fraternity sleepover, and spent a week with a terminally ill child, among many other assignments. My editors would typically give me assignments involving guys to get a good story, I was funny and cute and most had no problem opening up to me. Cue Him. One day I was assigned to a story involving a couple of our athletes who were up for All-American for their particular sport. Sounded fun enough. I had a great time interviewing, they were super laidback, easy-to-get-along-with, funny, charming, smart guys. So when one of them called to meet him out a few nights after the story went to press, I didn't hesitate. One Miller Lite-Jagerbomb-infused night of top-notch decision making later, I had slept with him. This went on for a few weeks. I did my best not to get attached, I was realistic, but he was great and I naturally developed a crush on him. I rationalized his lack of legitimate attention the usual way, 'Oh, he's graduating," "Oh, I'm going back North for the summer," "Oh, this is the last time he will get to spend with his boys," blah blah blah. Things went nowhere, I felt rejected and went to live with my 86-year-old grandmother for the summer, couldn't get a job, didn't meet a damn soul in a bitchin beach town and pretty much consoled myself with a cycle of overeating, over-exercising and just generally beating myself up emotionally.

But things were looking up. I was moving back and into my first apartment with some great girlfriends. I was starting to feel like my old self again and still looking pretty damn hot despite the loss of my washboard abs. Big sigh. This all ended when two days later, while out with my girlfriends to celebrate our new apartment, I insisted on driving home drunk, crashed into another car and was arrested for DUI. I was convicted months later and outfitted with an ankle device that constantly monitored my BAC through the moisture levels on my skin. I also found out that Mr. Nowhere was in fact somewhere, DC to be exact, and to my surprise he has dating. A sorority girl. Who lives in an actual sorority house. At my school. Oh, and she's a virgin. Cue violin.

In an interesting turn of events, we've actually managed to become friends. Call me a masochist. The wound is still open, but it's not that I was ever really even that interested in him. It's that realization, the emotional equivalent of being backhanded out of nowhere, that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship, he didn't want a relationship with me. Something seemingly impartial on his part, is, unfortunately deeply personal on mine. P.s., read "He's just not that into you" and thank me later.

And, so here I am. Nothing like a little exposition to get the ball rolling. So, needless to say, most of these incidents have been followed by more open wounds and more general personal failings of all sorts, but I am beginning to pick up the pieces with the help of the most bangin group of girlfriends in the world and a family that puts 7th heaven to shame (in a putting the fun in dysfunctional kind of way). So here goes...