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A message from the universe

8 Mar

You must be kidding. Like lolz, right? This a joke?

Booty call date with Civil Servant tonight. Texted he’s on his way.

Guess who decided to show up FIVE FUCKING DAYS early? Yeah. That’s right. My fucking period.

GOD DAMN IT!! Ultimate cock block!

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Mustn’t read too much into it

2 Feb

Tinder date number 3, The Tutor, was kind of a bust. He was nice. Nothing wrong with him. He’s funny, gainfully employed, seems to have a nice relationship with his family, open about what he’s looking for and his faults, held the doors open, and walked me to my car. Needs a little work on the dress, but that’s all fixable. Not sure he’d be able to keep up with me in terms of banter, and I think he was a little intimidated by me. Just not what I wanted, not quite the right fit. It’s kinda like when you find a really great dress on the interwebs and you can’t wait to get it because you’re going to wear it to a big event, but once it arrives it doesn’t fit right across your chest and it’s too tight in the hips and then you’re stuck without the right outfit and you feel fat at the party. Exactly like that.

The worst part was that I had created this whole entire fantasy in my mind about how this would be the start of something special and it’s so disappointing when it doesn’t turn out that way. As much as I tell myself, “do not get ahead of yourself,” it’s hard to reign in the thoughts of how he’ll get along with my friends, whose house we’ll live in, how to break it to him that he’ll have to spend Christmas with my family, and where we’ll go for Valentine’s day. Now I have to get busy mourning this little fantasy relationship that I created for myself. Ugh, the worst.

It’s so discouraging and I barely just started. Then when I get back on stupid Tinder I run out of people to swipe on. I mean, OUCH! Like there’s literally no one around me anymore. And also, it sucks when you match with someone and you get crickets from them. A whole lot of nothing. Or else you get some random douche bag who just wants to touch you with the tip of his penis. Um, no. We’re not there yet. You need to calm down. Such a punch to the ego, you know?

I want to give up. I want to delete the apps and prepare myself to adopt some more cats. It’s easier. It’s less confronting. Would make me feel better about myself because I’d be the one making the choice to take myself off the market vs. contending with the fact that there’s no one out there for me.

The dating pool is like an above ground pool that has algae growing on the sides, leaves floating on the top, and too many dead bugs. In other words, not suitable for most humans. It’s making it really hard for me to jump in.

An Open Letter to Matt Lauer

30 Nov

Dear Matt Lauer,

Remember when you were in the news about a decade ago for wearing “mom jeans”?  Man, do I remember how people mocked you for those high waisted, faded, frumpy jeans.  As I recall you were also rocking a red sweater.  You kind of reminded me of an SNL skit, or a sad cat lady.  Yet you were still kind of okay.  That’s when you were still cool.  When families all over America would tune in to “The Today Show” to hear what you had to say.

You were the good guy.  Kind of handsome – aside from those awful jeans, a family guy, the boy next door.  The type of guy that girls like me found dreamy.  Charming, really.

How disappointing for us all to find out what an absolute douche bag you are.  How many hearts you’ve broken, worlds you’ve shaken, lives you’ve made miserable.  What an awful person you are, and poor choices you’ve made.

I’m glad those women came forward and told the truth about you.

Read your “apology” statement that you came out with.  I don’t think you’re sorry.  Scratch that, you are sorry, but you’re only sorry that you got caught.  You’re also a sorry bastard.  You know what you did wrong.  You know that you were being a fuck wad when you were you gifted your coworker a sex toy and told her how you wanted to use it on her.  What is wrong with you??  Don’t you know that you’re not supposed to do that unless the other person is clearly into you?

Guess what, Matt Lauer?  You can take your mom jeans and fuck yourself in your left eye.

You’re dead to me.

Insincerely yours, Catherinette

Justin Timberlake isn’t the only one bringing sexy back

2 May

That’s right, fans.  I’m taking matters into my hands and doing what it takes.

And by “matters” I mean “every snack food I can find” and “doing what it takes” I mean “shoving them down my throat”.

Stupid PMS.  How is it possible to have so many cravings that can never be satisfied? It’s a miracle I haven’t eaten the island in the middle of my kitchen.  The only reason I haven’t tried it is because it’s black and gray and I can’t think of any appetizing foods that are black and gray.

In the last 45 minutes I hoovered:

  • An entire bag of chips
  • 3 candy bars (the mini ones)
  • A bowl of ice cream
  • 2 pieces of cheese
  • 1/4 herb turkey
  • 1 mango

I also managed to break out with 2 brand new pimples.  Welcome Simone and Simone 2!

Next up I’m going to sit on the couch and sob my way through the latest episode of Game of Thrones.  First I need a big glass of wine so I can rehydrate myself from all the tears I’m going to shed.

How much longer until menopause and hot flashes?

Fat is as Fat Does

26 Jan

I’m a whale.  I’m a hippo.  I’m a pig.  I’m a whale.  These are the things going through my head as I stand in front of the mirror wondering where on earth these cankles came from.

First official day in Australia, it’s perfect summer weather, and all I see is pasty white blubber.  These next six months are going to be AMAZING!

I have a friend of a friend in town who I’m supposed to meet up with today.  Have never met her, we’ve just exchanged a few emails, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.  When I first agreed to meet up with her, I immediately sent her a facebook friend request and started stalking her.  I was hoping for someone who wasn’t model hot so I wouldn’t feel like such a fast ass.  Just a normal looking girl, though definitely fitter than I am.

We’ve decided on going down to St. Kilda, down on the water.  “Swim suits?” she asked.  Flash of me standing on the beach blinding everyone with my fat thighs.  Lied that I left my suit at home.

“Should we run or power walk?  Should I wear gym clothes? “she asks.  First of all HA!  Second of all HAHA!  Me?  Power walk or run??  Is there a zombie apocolaypse?  Because if there isn’t, I’m not doing it.  Oh, and also, its upward of 90 degrees today, I’ll sweat just from breathing – my heart would stop if I ran.  My response? “Haha. Yeah, no. I’m the biggest slacker EVER. For reals. Go casual.”

Know whats’ funny?  To get rid of the whale/hippo/pig/whale thing, I should run or power walk.  Maybe I’ll just have a cookie to take my mind off of this.

Just Let Me Die

13 Mar

Stomach flu.  Or food poisoning.  Either way, just let me die.  Wonder if it’s related to the Cool Whip that I take out of the freezer every night, let it soften, take two bites from, and then put back in the freezer.  Ugh.  Gross.

In half an hour I’m supposed to be leading a session for a fancy client.  That is totally not happening, mainly because I don’t want to vomit all over the floor halfway through the session.  My efforts to find a back up have totally failed.  They’re on their own.  I hate having to do that.  It’s shitty.  I do a favor for a friend and pick up this session, and then the day of I have to back out.  Horrible.  Just horrible.

I’ve never been the type of person to drag myself out of the house when I feel like dying.  Frankly, I’ve never understood how on earth people are able to do that.  How can you sit at your desk, stare at the computer screen, and get any work done while you’re also trying to hold all your puke down?  Vomiting is bad enough, but when you’re forced into a little stall and you know all your coworkers are hearing you it makes it that much worse.

No thanks, I’ll stay home, curl up on my bathroom floor, and then cry while I throw up.

Yay! Nay!

28 Jan

The battle against my massive muffin top has been going quite well.  My thighs are no longer threatening to bust the seems of my pants.  No longer can you notice every last dimple of my ass in my pants.  My Spanx are enjoying a well earned vacation.  Best of all?  My stomach doesn’t have the permanent indent from my buttons any longer.  Bye bye fat!

Yesterday, for the first time in about 8 months, I wore my skinny jeans out of the house.  Fit like a glove – in a good way.  Not one of those squeeze into it and if it zips it fits things.  No no, they actually looked good!  Best jeans ever.  EVER!  They’re the jeans that I always receive compliments on.  It’s as if Houdini himself made them, because what they do to my ass is magic.  Have had them for about three years and have taken such good care of them.  They’ve lasted me longer than any other jeans, most likely because the second I gain 10 pounds I can’t wear them any more.  The inner thighs are starting to wear, but they still look GREAT!

YAY!

After a long day of prancing around in my jeans, it was finally time to take a little rest.  Had my dinner ready to go and plopped down on the couch.  For some reason I always sit Indian style – or crisscross apple sauce as they say in schools now.  What the fuck is that about?  How can you get apple sauce to go crisscross?  Really?  Anyway, my ass hit the couch, my legs went into their favorite state and that’s when I heard and felt the horrible RIP of the left inner thigh of my jeans.

NAY!

Life sucks.  I’m going to go eat something I shouldn’t be eating.