On the first day of March it was raining. It was raining worse than anything that I have ever seen. I drank 2 pints of beer and I cursed all the people there. I wish that all this rain would stop falling down on me.

I love having dreams about being sexually assaulted, three nights in a row. Thanks a lot, Brain. Any other happy memories you'd like to dredge up from the open sewer of my recollections? Go nuts. I always wanted to know what a strait jacket was like. Keep this up, Brain, and we'll find out sooner rather than later. 

B*tch.

Bad dream hangover? Yes.

Food hangover? Still there.

But I suppose it's no less than I deserve. When you spend your weekends being a hermit so you can binge on junk food and sleeping pills, you deserve a horrendous start to the week. After successfully resisting that snack table, I ate crap pretty much the rest of the weekend. Not mega bingeing until I can't breathe, but bingeing nonetheless. And I think I consumed about 700 mg of dyphenhydramine over the course of 3 days. 

This is why my doctor flat out refuses to prescribe me anything stronger than .25 mg of lorazepam. And that was only after I made a show of breaking down into a soggy mess in the middle of his office. 

I'm not suicidal. I'm just much happier unconscious. :D

And this pisses me off quite a bit because as Life goes, I have it pretty good. I've got a great family and a place that I can call home and be happy living in. I've got wonderful friends (probably more than I deserve). I am not lacking food (though not for lack of effort), shelter, clean water, education, clothing, or health (health as in I'm not really at risk of contracting something like malaria just from going outside). So why do I want to shut it all out?

More than shutting it out, I want to run away. I fantasize about packing up my cat and my most precious possessions and just taking off in my car. Heading for Maine so I can settle down somewhere quiet between the forest and the sea. Or just driving, only stopping for a couple days at a time, living out of my car. Or actually saving up enough money to pack up everything I own and get a one-way ticket to Ireland (that one is actually the most plausible, and most likely in the future...). 

But I don't really know what I'm running away from. 

It's kind of like that ridiculous idea we get in our heads regarding our weight: that everything will be okay once we're Thin. Once we've gotten down to a weight we can call Thin Enough, everything else will just fall into place. That's how I feel about running away--once I get to Ireland/Maine/Nomadic Existence, everything will be fine. My life will get better and all my issues will disappear. 

Wanna know something that really gets me t'ed off? People with their heads stuck so far up their own arses that they actually have NO EFFING CLUE WHATSOEVER about what's going on around them, or what effect their self-aggrandizing, misconstrued, over-exaggerated harseshite has on other people. I just don't get how you can treat the world one way (like the world and everything in it is dumber than you/simply not worth your time) and expect the world and its inhabitants to treat you with any kind of respect. Like DUH.

Ok I'm done. ...with that particular rant, anyway.

I'm starting to really dislike my boss. I do not often indulge in Hatred or even serious dislike, but holy hand grenades, he's beginning to give me stress headaches. I mean I know I'm kind of a ditzy tard in general, but he likes to remind me of this multiple times a day. He also likes to tell me one thing ("don't interrupt me EVER when I'm on the phone, unless it's a Judge") and then a few hours later, yell at me for doing what he said ("why didn't you tell me Client was on the phone?!? I wanted to talk to them!!"). Or yell at me for not doing things he never told me to do in the first place. Or get all bent out of shape for not dealing with a client's billing issue ("that's YOUR job!") because Boss never entered any of the relevant billing info into the accounting program, thus leaving absolutely no record of how much the client owes us. 

So NO, asswipe, I can't tell the client how much money he needs to send because I don't bloody well know how much, because I'm not a mf psychic. 

Boss is a Typical Only Child. And he's starting to make Supreme Evil Bossette (3 jobs ago) look almost normal in comparison. 

Supreme Evil Bossette was ridiculous, as far as bosses go. Ever see the Devil Wears Prada? Yeah Meryl Streep was NOTHING compared to S.E. Bossette. Even outside the realm of the workplace, I think S.E. Bossette was just plain Evil. She ranked pretty high on my own personal Scale of Evil anyway, right up there between Cthulhu and Lucy Butler.

I miss Old Boss. In fact, I miss him so much I could cry about it (that's the xanax talking, I imagine--I can no longer go a day at the office without sedatives). Sure Old Boss had his fussy, annoying moments, but at least he was a nice person in general. And much more pleasant to talk to. I've started looking around for another job, but Idk what to put in my cover letter as far as why I'm seeking a new job. Plus there's no jobs available anywhere at all. All I know is that I really do not want to spend a long stretch of time hating my life and dreading going to work every morning. And apparently I already dislike it so much I can't even hide it (which is very odd for me--usually I can hide all feelings behind a neutral poker face).  I was talking to my hairdresser, Kim, recently about my new job and saying something generic like "yeah it's great," and she looked me dead in the eye and said: "You hate it."

TRACY HAS HER OWN BLOG NOW!! 

Say hello to the shrinking in your head.

That is how I sometimes feel about the other secretary in my office. N is a lovely woman. I enjoy her company (it's pretty much just the two of us in the office every day). I like chatting with her. I actually think she's my favourite out of all the other people with whom I've ever worked. But pretty much every day N comes back from her lunch break with a bag of fast food. I sit there on the other side of the room at my desk, trying to nibble on my lettuce and hummus, all the while smelling the intoxicating fumes from her Wendy's chicken sandwiches and fries. 

So remember that psychotic My Little Pony post from a while back? If not, go now and familiarize yourself with my psychosis. On the same page now? Good. 

Guess what. 

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OMG IT'S NON-BEDDY EYE BABY LOFTY!!!!!

She is now Officially the most valuable pony in my collection. She arrived on Friday, all the way from Brazil. 

Although  at the same time I feel kind of deflated now. I've found my holy grail (well, Holy Grail #2--this was the first Holy Grail [the last one on the right, though she was not nearly as expensive]). Now I must find a new pony to hunt down and acquire. I'm thinking maybe Ice Crystal. Or Mint Dreams (last one in that list)--I've been looking for her for a while. There's a bunch I really want, but not so desperately that I will spend spend spend because if I get one pony, I'll get loads and be bankrupt in very little time. Perhaps instead I shall work on purchasing a nice curio cabinet for all the ponies. At the moment they're all stuffed into boxes under my bed.

Went to see my niece in a fashion show Friday night--some kind of brownies/girl scouts fundraiser. It was cute, if not a little frightening to be surrounded by that much estrogen (very very few men or boys in the room...). The worst part was the snack table. 

I couldn't get a better photo without looking like a freak, but HOLY CRAP there were so many delicious goodies!! And of course we were sat at the table right next to it. 

But I did not touch a single thing on that snack table. Not one bite. Which left me at 180 cals for the whole day. I couldn't have any more because I didn't get to work out. 

But then I had a scare later on that night, around 10.30. As I was getting ready for bed, I began feeling the unmistakable signs of Serious Collapse: couldn't catch my breath, stomach started hurting and I felt super nauseous, and then everything started to get very dark. 


And I was like oh crap--what do I do? I had no emergency food in my bedroom, which was obviously the thing that would save me. All I had was the last dregs of a bottle of Wawa diet lemon iced tea and some beef jerky. So I crawled into the loo with both of those and sat down on the toilet, head between my knees because I think I remember someone telling me to that once before, trying to take deep breaths. It wasn't working. I haven't been that freaked out in a while. 


Eventually, I managed to get downstairs. I had to be super stealth, because it was essential that Mum not see me in that state. I managed to eat an ice cream sandwich and some honey nut cheerios and felt better. 


And did any of this deter me from my starvation? Not a chance. Now you skeptics try and tell me I don't have something wrong with my head. 

Sorry I suck at commenting. I've been running around like a chicken with its head cut off because I overbook myself. I'll get around to everyone's blogs tonight--I promise! Hope you're all having a good weekend. Stay conscious, my loves. <3