That's what I whispered lovingly to my Taco Bell nachos last night...and to the double decker taco supreme that preceded that...and to the cool ranch locos taco and soft taco supreme that preceded that...
Taco Bell is my black tar heroin. I can. not. quit. it. But I keep trying only to fall off the wagon within two months of excommunicating it from my diet.
It's just so comforting. But I guess here is the part where I tell you that I am addicted to food. I realized this the other day when I binge ate a Jenny Craig dinner, a countless number of lemonheads, starburst jellybeans, and regular old starbursts, some lemon mousse bars...I could go on, but you don't need to read the list of my caloric indiscretions. You just need to read the part where I tell you that I ate it all because I was mad. And it felt like a hug. All that food felt like an old friend that said, "Come have a cup of tea, a glass of wine, and tell me all about your bad, stressful day. Actually don't tell me because I already know, and I know what you need to fix it."
Incredible. That's the kind of friendship that's built with time. Food and I have a history. And it's not even a complicated history. It's one of love and comfort and pizza.
As of five years ago it became almost exclusively Taco Bell. I was in a committed relationship with the most questionable of the fast food options. And I loved it. I ate it everyday. Every. Day. I still can't believe that I didn't clog all my arteries.
But at the end of all this, at the end of all the times I've tried to break up with Taco Bell, I just can't seem to do it.
And maybe I shouldn't have to.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Monday, April 8, 2013
Rant: Don't you just hate that...
that being in your twenties is just as awkward as being 13 sometimes? I think being in your twenties might actually be worse.
Did someone know this secret about being in your twenties? Because I feel like I've been hoodwinked.
I have spent countless hours google searching blogs and responses to this topic. I want to know that I am not alone. I want other people in this position to know that THEY are not alone. That YOU are not alone.
I'm at that extra special time in my life, and maybe you are too, when all of my friends are getting married and having babies. Every. Single. One of them. Am I alone in this? I had an entire year of my life that was dedicated to weddings and babies. Every single weekend was spent at someone's shower (baby or bridal...take your pick), someone's bachelorette party, or staring at someone's newborn. Because that's all you can do with newborns. My co-workers made fun of me initially. They would ask me to tutor on Saturday mornings, but I'd have to refuse the offer. Eventually the co-workers stopped believing me and just thought I was lying to get out of an extra responsibility. How could one person be in attendance to so many bridal or baby related events? But that's the magic of being on the other side of 25. On one side you're dancing with your friends at bars and clubs all over the city and eating burgers and pizza at 3 am, and on the other side...well...
Not to mention the weddings I have attended where an ex-boyfriend has also been in attendance. You know THAT boyfriend. The one that got away. The one who was sitting across the table from you with his new fiancee while you drank glass after glass of red wine and proceeded to look, act, and feel like a hot ass mess. The memory of your interpretive dance to "Apple Bottom Jeans" charging back into your brain while you make friends with your post wedding hangover. Of course, that memory is not to be outdone by the memory of you telling said boyfriend's fiancee that you remember going on a double date with her and her ex-boyfriend while you were dating her current fiancee and "Can you believe how it all turned out?" while she looks at you in horror and disgust You can deal with the horror, in fact the horror is pretty funny. But if you can erase the disgust off her face you would quicker than a hummingbird's heartbeat.
But I digress...
At 27 I am nowhere near Wedding Land. I'm even further from Babyville. And yet I feel that societal pressure to shack up and have children...even though I don't want children. But don't tell people you don't want children...it makes them nervous. "What do you mean you don't want children?" "Give it some time, you'll change your mind." Anybody else tell someone they didn't want children only to receive one of these delightful responses? As if one of these responses is going to jumpstart your biological clock.
My other favorite is when a friend has a baby and suddenly their eyes have been opened to the capability of feeling love. Tell me if you have yet to experience this...a friend is changing a child's diaper or telling a story about their child that you can tell is really getting them heated. You respond in a way to show solidarity to your friend. "Yeah, poop is disgusting! Your three month old should really learn how to wipe his own ass!" or "Yeah, I can't believe he kept you up until 2 am crying because he wasn't feeling well. So selfish!" Your friend then turns to you and says, "Well you just don't understand. You don't have kids."
Hold. Up.
You're kidding, right? There is nothing more offensive to me than that phrase. As if to suggest that someone without kids has never loved anything more than themselves. As if that person has never felt a responsibility to something beyond their own needs.
I understand that a parent's love for a child is chemical and emotional and blah blah blah. I understand that a parent's love is built on sleepless nights and feeding time and the bond one feels to something that belongs to them....well...I don't quite know that belong is the word. Maybe someone they are responsible for...but...regardless...
The point of this whole rant is that being in your twenties is so awkward (according to me) because sometimes you look around and feel as though everyone has their shit together, while you're still trying to figure it out. Sometimes you watch all of your friends get married and have babies, and you think to yourself that maybe you should be doing that too because it's what you're supposed to do. It's what you've been told to do. But then why do I not want to do it? Why do I continue drinking too many glasses of red wine at assorted open bars and dancing out the lyrics to K.C. and the Sunshine Band's "Boogie Shoes" like that's the appropriate behavior for a 27 year old woman?
Wherever you are right now in your life is exactly where you are supposed to be. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
Did someone know this secret about being in your twenties? Because I feel like I've been hoodwinked.
I have spent countless hours google searching blogs and responses to this topic. I want to know that I am not alone. I want other people in this position to know that THEY are not alone. That YOU are not alone.
I'm at that extra special time in my life, and maybe you are too, when all of my friends are getting married and having babies. Every. Single. One of them. Am I alone in this? I had an entire year of my life that was dedicated to weddings and babies. Every single weekend was spent at someone's shower (baby or bridal...take your pick), someone's bachelorette party, or staring at someone's newborn. Because that's all you can do with newborns. My co-workers made fun of me initially. They would ask me to tutor on Saturday mornings, but I'd have to refuse the offer. Eventually the co-workers stopped believing me and just thought I was lying to get out of an extra responsibility. How could one person be in attendance to so many bridal or baby related events? But that's the magic of being on the other side of 25. On one side you're dancing with your friends at bars and clubs all over the city and eating burgers and pizza at 3 am, and on the other side...well...
Not to mention the weddings I have attended where an ex-boyfriend has also been in attendance. You know THAT boyfriend. The one that got away. The one who was sitting across the table from you with his new fiancee while you drank glass after glass of red wine and proceeded to look, act, and feel like a hot ass mess. The memory of your interpretive dance to "Apple Bottom Jeans" charging back into your brain while you make friends with your post wedding hangover. Of course, that memory is not to be outdone by the memory of you telling said boyfriend's fiancee that you remember going on a double date with her and her ex-boyfriend while you were dating her current fiancee and "Can you believe how it all turned out?" while she looks at you in horror and disgust You can deal with the horror, in fact the horror is pretty funny. But if you can erase the disgust off her face you would quicker than a hummingbird's heartbeat.
But I digress...
At 27 I am nowhere near Wedding Land. I'm even further from Babyville. And yet I feel that societal pressure to shack up and have children...even though I don't want children. But don't tell people you don't want children...it makes them nervous. "What do you mean you don't want children?" "Give it some time, you'll change your mind." Anybody else tell someone they didn't want children only to receive one of these delightful responses? As if one of these responses is going to jumpstart your biological clock.
My other favorite is when a friend has a baby and suddenly their eyes have been opened to the capability of feeling love. Tell me if you have yet to experience this...a friend is changing a child's diaper or telling a story about their child that you can tell is really getting them heated. You respond in a way to show solidarity to your friend. "Yeah, poop is disgusting! Your three month old should really learn how to wipe his own ass!" or "Yeah, I can't believe he kept you up until 2 am crying because he wasn't feeling well. So selfish!" Your friend then turns to you and says, "Well you just don't understand. You don't have kids."
Hold. Up.
You're kidding, right? There is nothing more offensive to me than that phrase. As if to suggest that someone without kids has never loved anything more than themselves. As if that person has never felt a responsibility to something beyond their own needs.
I understand that a parent's love for a child is chemical and emotional and blah blah blah. I understand that a parent's love is built on sleepless nights and feeding time and the bond one feels to something that belongs to them....well...I don't quite know that belong is the word. Maybe someone they are responsible for...but...regardless...
The point of this whole rant is that being in your twenties is so awkward (according to me) because sometimes you look around and feel as though everyone has their shit together, while you're still trying to figure it out. Sometimes you watch all of your friends get married and have babies, and you think to yourself that maybe you should be doing that too because it's what you're supposed to do. It's what you've been told to do. But then why do I not want to do it? Why do I continue drinking too many glasses of red wine at assorted open bars and dancing out the lyrics to K.C. and the Sunshine Band's "Boogie Shoes" like that's the appropriate behavior for a 27 year old woman?
Wherever you are right now in your life is exactly where you are supposed to be. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Smoker's Lounge
I don't know her name, and I don't know what she looks like, but she has the voice of Fran Drescher. And she talks...a lot.And that wouldn't be so bad if it didn't sound as though every conversation she had wasn't taking place in my living room. Every time she goes to smoke a cigarette, she stands on this tiny island of cement and welcome mat and talks on her cellphone. From these activities happening in tandem, I can only assume my neighbor is also adept in the art of multi-tasking. Regardless, I am worried about her level of stress. I have been awoken from countless naps by the sound of her aggressive cigarette/cellphone rants. Apparently her friends have a lot of relationship issues all of which my smoker friend here takes on as her own, shouting angrily into her cellphone as if she is the injured party. She is nothing if not impassioned. Sometimes I want to open my living room window and yell down to her, "You go girl! Tell her what's good! I can't believe she caught her boyfriend cheating with her best friend!"
Today, however, was a first. Today, for the first time since I moved into the apartment in February, I heard her laugh. For two months I have heard nothing but anger and hate seething out of this woman's mouth, but today I heard joy. And it was...awful...and ongoing. Smokey the cellphone talker apparently caught a giggle fit. And, once again, it wouldn't have been so awful if it didn't sound like it was taking place in my living room.
Maybe I'll leave a note under that welcome mat for her. Reading it might keep her quiet for a few minutes.
Dear Smoker,
Ever thought of becoming a therapist? At least your friends would have to pay you for all of your counsel. Perhaps they could pay you in cigarettes. Please don't ever laugh again.
Sincerely,
Concerned Neigbor
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)