Today is Easter

I am finally, FINALLY, getting over some disgusting virus I've had for the past 10 days.  I feel like I'm slowly being resurrected from the dead. This is my easter.

Being sick brings out the most pathetic side of people (or maybe it just brings out the most pathetic side of me, but I'd like to assume I'm not alone here). I actually called my mom crying at one point. I felt helpless. It's not like I couldn't move. It's not like I broke a leg and couldn't get up off the couch. I just didn't want to. And I felt VICTIMIZED. Why isn't anyone bringing me soup? Why hasn't someone volunteered to wash my M-F dishes for me? Why god, why?!

I reached an ultimate low while texting my nurse friend, Ashley:

Me: I seriously need a boyfriend.

Ashley: What?! Why?

Me: To take care of me.

Ashley: This is the fever talking. You are an independent woman! Go to sleep.

And so I did. I nearly slept through Thanksgiving, but decided that if I spent the day alone in my basement  garden-level apartment, I might end up in therapy. So instead, I took the bus home on Thanksgiving morning, probably infected at least 100 people on my way there (Happy Holidays!), and barely tasted dinner. So sad. Normally, my binge eating capabilities shine on Thanksgiving. In fact, one year in college, my friends and I competed to see who could eat the most.  We used to call ourselves "The Eating Team" and our slogan was, "Try to eat us out." That's disgusting. But also hilarious. It also explains my former obesity.

Anyway, I'm hoping to make up for my disappointing performance on Thanksgiving during the rest of the holiday season. If not only for myself, but for Jesus. 

Very Superstitious

I hate Bud Light. And pretty much all light beers. You can call me a hipster, but I prefer to drink only craft. Whatever. Anyway, despite my distaste (pun intended) for Bud Light, I'm totally loving their superstition commercials lately.

Why? Because I am also a total mental case when it comes to sports. Specifically, football, and specifically the Patriots. I have convinced myself that the only time the Pats do well is when I'm standing in the kitchen  (is that anti-feminist?). So, anytime they are approaching the end zone, I jump up off my couch and run to the kitchen. Just standing on the tile makes a difference. Sometimes, I plan to cook for the duration of the game just to ensure a blowout. I also keep my fingers crossed at all times and put my shirt over my mouth at critical moments. These things have proven to be successful.

This Sunday, I am going to brunch at a fancy hotel to celebrate a friend's birthday and will consequently miss the game (I should be rewarded for this). I'm deeply concerned that if I'm not wearing Pats attire, something bad will happen. But, I'm also not sure a bright red jersey is appropriate for ladies brunch at an elite hotel. What to do? What to do?! I'm actually considering keeping a jersey in my bag just so I have it on hand. Does that count?

What's going to happen, you guys?!

Baby Alive

I think one of the reasons I don't want children today is because the only doll I had growing up was fucking Baby Alive. This is the doll that poops and pees and you have to clean up after it. And that is supposed to be a fun activity for girls.

Meanwhile, little boys get to build spaceships out of Legos and blow up shit.  I'd like to consider myself a non-violent person, but I assure you, I'd still rather play with toy guns than wipe a plastic doll's ass.

Anime has taken over the world.

When I was little, I much preferred stuffed animals and Littlest Pet Shop to Barbies and pooping dolls, which could possibly explain my affinity for cats. (Apparently, I have no problem cleaning up animal poop. But, in my defense, my cat has never shit his pants, which I think is a lot more disgusting than a litter box.) Anyway, I've said it before, and I'll say it again: animals are better than babies.

So, perhaps Baby Alive could be used as a new form of birth control. You know, the kind of birth control you give to children.  Not only will it make them not want to have babies of their own, but it might also give them the self-awareness to know when to shut the fuck up. Does Baby Alive cry? I forget. But if it does, you should make your child carry it around a grocery store while it's crying and apologize to everyone on its behalf.  Talk about hands-on learning.

All I'm saying as that I think Baby Alive could really help slow the teen pregnancy rate.

Then again, I do really love Teen Mom. Ugh, such a conflict.