So much to say...But I don't know what

I am not a happy girl. Lately it seems I've set myself on a vicious cycle fueled by booze, blackouts, accusations, hangovers, and apologies. Wash, rinse, repeat. I'm dreadfully angry, inexplicably hurt, lashing out in every direction, and placing blame on everyone but myself.

My first step, no more booze. Hard to believe I would drop the drinking for anything other than dropping a few pounds, but I know it's only making things worse. I'll be 27 in three weeks, and while I love the frat parties, bar cycles, and all day booze bashes at the beach, I'm too old to keep doing this shit every weekend.

Second step, get help. As in professional. Thinking this scares me. Typing it freaks me out. And saying it; makes me tear up.

So new goal? Stop being crazy, and start getting happy. Wow, I sound like a self help book already.

Whose Birthday is Next?

Oh wait, it's mine. Seeing how I was completely obsessed with the salted caramels from Fran's, I HAVE to make these cupcakes!

Such a Brat

DH's roomie made cookies last night, and there is a plate of them on my desk. My desk just happens to be the spot where people know to look for treats because, duh, I like to bake. However, I do not like these healthy, organic cookies on my desk. They're ugly. I don't know what they taste like, but people keep saying they're super sweet. And I do not want people thinking I make ugly, super sweet, organic cookies.

Say What?

So disturbing, but Dude, but I can't turn it off.

Are You Fucking Kidding Me?

First, Happy Friday! Boy am I ready for this beautiful weekend to start. Jota and I are biking down to Hermosa to celebrate three birthdays in what I'm sure will be yet another smashing good time. I will do my best to abstain from keg curls.

Mr. Jota had a rough Thursday, so instead of making dinner, I decided to take my baby to Naked Sushi over on Washington. With our seats on the heated patio, we had a lovely view of the drunkies bouncing between karaoke at the Whaler and 2 for 1 drinks at Cabo. In the middle of our people watching, I notice a girl standing in a metered space, blocking a car trying to park. Now this is Venice. I can tell you first hand that parking is a bitch. I've totally been that girl standing in front of my house waiting for Jota to pull around so he doesn't have to park a mile away. But this was different. This girl would not move. People are screaming at her, she's on the phone with her friends, and finally she moves out of the way to let the car park.

She doesn't stop there. The people in the car walk away, but this girl continues to chill by the car, presumably on the phone with her friends. She's nosing around, trying the handles, enough that the driver comes back over and has a few more words with her. All this time Jota and I are like, "Seriously? Doesn't this girl have anything better to do than be bitter about losing a parking spot? Where are her friends? Isn't she missing out whatever they're doing?"

So she sits down. Chats with some people. Laughs with some people. And then not one, but two fire trucks show up. And an ambulance. And a cop car. This fucking bitch called the cops, claiming she was hit by a drunk driver who broke her leg. The girl had one scratch on her knee that was scabbed over. They carried her off on a stretcher. At this point, I approached the girl driving the car and gave her my contact information to be used as a witness. Because seriously, I'm fucking livid that my tax dollars were totally wasted right in front of my eyes last night.

And yes, I just used "fuck" like 3 times. I'm pissed.

PS see my twitpic of one fire truck.

I iz a Trainwreck

I might have a problem, or two. One of them might be alcohol related. First things first, someone, anyone, take Berry away from me when I drink. Second, should I be worried that lately I black out every time I drink? On second thought, if Berry had not been hanging out in my bra all Saturday, I would have absolutely no idea what happened versus at least having the ability to check my twitter Sunday morning. Wow, that should be an ad, "Twitter, allowing you to black out and still remember your night since 2008."

So what really happened? Kel, Da, and L hosted a frat party at their house Saturday night. The boys played. I did keg curls. Keg curls. Like, curling an empty keg multiple times. I'm not going to be able to lift with my right arm all week. I knocked a table over with a bowl of chips. Picked up the chips, put them back into the bowl and said something to the effect of, "God made dirt, and dirt don't hurt."

I rubbed Em's pregnant belly, a day after saying that I wasn't quite ready for that. PS Em, it's a real cute pregnant belly!

Hung out with DH (Dawn H aka Vodka Dawn or VD for short.) Everything was fine for a bit. I'm not going into specifics, but let's just leave it at words were had. Mean ones. Hateful ones. Ones that made me wake up in the morning thinking, "Fuck. I am a bitch. It all needed to be said, but not in that way. Not in front of everyone."

So DH and I hugged it out over the phone last night. Shit's not all weird at work today. We joked that everyone in our incestuous little group will spend the entire week snickering about the "incident", and waiting to see how we'll act this Saturday in Hermosa. Except it's not really a joke. One of, if not the main point we discussed, is how our group gossips like a bitch. We all do, I do. And it's got to stop. So that's the story, at least what I'm willing to tell.

Mind your Potty Manners

Probably the only thing I will ever read in O Magazine...

Beware the Tinkler

Some girls in my office can't figure out how to flush the paper protectors after they use the toilet. Rude, rude, rude. And filthy. I'd hate to see their house, and that's saying something considering you can't see our bedroom floor right now because it's covered in clothes. We need to do laundry Jota!

New Month, New Goal

Just this morning I was lamenting to Jota that I haven't set a goal for myself this month. Debating what I was going to do, I realized I set this goal on April 1st, with a deadline of my birthday, June 17th. I like this idea of goal setting. In the new year, I have reached every goal I've set. Sometimes it's not in the time frame that I would like it to be, but I've still pushed myself to finish.

Example:
On Sunday, I had some serious anxiety about not being able to complete the 5K, but fear of having to run another to meet my goal pushed me not only across the finish line, but also to run an extra 2K because the course wasn't properly marked.

Hmmm, can I do ten pounds in six weeks? Even if I lose a healthy two pounds per week, that's really pushing it. I guess this means less drinking, better eating, and more cardio. Man, I hate cardio.

Total Moral Dilemma

Logged into the bank account this morning and noticed I have $600 more than I thought. Turns out the US Treasury automatically deposited my "economic stimulus". While I know they want me turn around and spend it, and I really want a new surf board; Jota brought up a point that has me conflicted. Donate to charity. What's a wannabe surfer girl to do?

Guess I need to find a charity, other than myself.