Sometimes I'm not too stressed about leaving very soon. I still don't know what I'm doing or where I am going. Other times, reality hits and I have an internal freakout. What happens when I tell people that I'm leaving is that they ask me what I'm doing next. Then when I think about it, that's when I have another mental panic.
I have stress symptoms. Here are some things that happen.
- I don't talk, or,
- I talk too much about everything which is mundane to most people but exciting to me, and generally has no relevance to life. Cue dinos, animals, and 'would you rather' questions.
- Watch TV to take my mind off all the things I should be doing. End up having more things to do because I have been watching TV.
- Decide I have no time to run. I actually do have time to run, because I have somehow been making time for TV. Get more stressed because I'm not running.
- Stop being hungry, but
- I eating all the things because it makes me feel like I am being productive. People need to eat, right?
This is a story about icecream.*
Usually I have icecream in the house because of Icecream Sunday. Icecream Sunday is the day where I am allowed to eat icecream. (I have days designated to exciting things in my life. Click here for more!) I have some 'Everything but the...' in the freezer. I'm telling you, this flavour is like a quarter of an orgasm, for reals. It has vanilla and chocolate icecream with white chocolate chunks, peanut butter cups, Heath bar chunks, and chocolate covered almonds.
Stressed Liz needs an activity = worst icecream eating method ever.
The problem with icecream that has so many yummy chunks is that I only want to eat the chunks. This turns into a game. I find a peanut butter cup, eat it, then I find some white chocolate, so I eat that, then oh my freaking gosh there's some Heath bar! A tiny piece of another peanut butter cup is exposed I have to fucking dig the shit out of the icecream. All the chunks must be mined!!!! FIND ALL THE WHITE CHOCOLATE! EAT ALL THE PIECES OF EVERYTHING!
What am I left with? A small amount of semi-melted and churned up icecream with no more chunks of fun :(
I proceed to put on some fat pants (should have done this before icecream eating, duh Liz) and crawl into fetal position. Exact positioning must be strategic, to ensure maximum comfort and also so that I can see what's going on on episode of Hoarders. Hint: Weird people are hoarding things.
Eyes close.
Time elapses.
Wake up some time later. What year is it? Who knows. Did I wake up from the best party in the world? Answer = no.
Squirrels have invaded apartment.
Flatmate is on other couch, also looking deranged.
Room is full of Ben and Jerry's containers. Most are empty, some have melted icecream, but don't even think that you could find remaining peanut butter cup hunks. Na-ah, gurlfriend.
No, we don't have great hair.
Apartment smells like failure, and possibly dead cats.
THE END
*May or may not be based on a true story.
Because of occurrences like this, I have been avoiding telling people that I WILL BE LEAVING PORTLAND IN LYK OMG 7 DAYS.
Other thoughts from me this week:
- There are some things that I know I don't know. a) Do friendly goats exist? b) What Blu-ray is. I care enough to be aware that I don't know what it is, but I don't care enough to Google it to find out. I don't have time for that shiz. Usually I just imagine a bright blue stingray being all like 'hey guys! I'm blue!
- I will refuse to drink peppermint and chamomile tea on a regular basis. Not only do they taste like I'm eating flowers, but I fear that I will turn into an aggressively calm person.
- Watch this!
The End
Love you all
Liz Tritops
xoxo
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