Poopy...

Yep. That about sums it up. I just can't seem to snap out of this over stressed foul mood I am in. No amount of the Police's Message in a Box can curtail it. The worst is that I cannot put my finger on the source of said poopiness. I even ran home for my lunch break thinking some vegetarian "beef" soup, a pet of the dog, and a hug from the boy would turn it around. No such luck. It could be the result of four potential events: 1)I think the fact that my brother and I were in the same room for 8 hours on Thanksgiving without a huge blow out argument, snide comments toward each other, expletives shouted, etc. set a precedent for Thanksgiving that has not occurred in over ten years and is really freaking me out. I can't handle that kind of familial trauma 2)All of my friends who have jumped on the Athens train to New York will be returning in a few short weeks. Why would this be a source of crappiness. you ask? Well the reason is completely and utterly selfish/pathetic and I am almost afraid to share. I guess what it boils down to is me not being happy with the stage of life I am in right now (crappy job I hate, broke...B-R-O-K-E, bad hair cut, desperately needing new clothes so fancy friends from New York still want to be seen with me, etc.). Why I should project that on friends coming to visit? I have no idea. 3) I ate at a new Cuban restaurant about a week and a half ago. I believe the "vegetarian" black beans and vegetables (really a can of veg-all dumped on the plate...yuck) where not totally vegetarian. I have been dealing with the flatulent repercussions of this ill advised restaurant excursion for a while now and I believe it is weighing on my constitution. 4) In the time honored tradition of being a woman, I have been blessed with PMS that doesn't start a few days before my special time but TWO WEEKS before. Lucky me. FUCK!

In an attempt to boost my esteem and shrug off this less than pleasant state I am in, I have registered for a triathlon in April and spent the entire morning working up a training schedule. Drastic? Maybe. Stupid? Possibly. Will I actually do it? You bet your ass.

Listening to: Slint