So you know how I have mentioned before that I was a hack? I was a hack for a paper that has now gone strictly online, and is now a hit with highschoolers, I believe, but way back when, we were a fun, wacky group of kids just trying to make our way in the world (http://thephoenix.com/boston/news/36883-stool-also-rises/), but now it's all different and whatever who cares I just wanted to give you a little background.
(We used to go to the strip club on Fridays at lunch and called it Filthy Fridays.)
Okay. For reals.
So when I met Husband, I was still writing and living in a fifth-floor WALKUP (OMG thighs) in a cool little neighborhood with cool and fabulous roommates and we would all sit around on this little red couch we had and be hilarious and trendy (fine, my fabulous roommates, NOT me, I was only hilarious) and one night we were discussing how, when the weather turns cold, we try to find guys to make out with for a few months because it's easier to do that than actually go out and find someone new (read: shave legs and put on actual pants instead of sweats) and we called them "Winter Warmers". We were of course discussing this while Husband (then-just-guy-I-am-obsessed-with-and-had-not-yet-fooled-into-being-my-boyfriend) was there hanging out with us and because we thought it was funny, I wrote about it that week.
Unfortunately, that week was also just about the time we had started really hanging out and Husband was telling anyone who would listen that he was dating the hot chick from Barstool (fine, this did not happen, but it did come up) and the first article any of his friends read that I wrote was of course about these "winter warmers" and everyone was SO mean to him about it and never stopped making fun of him. And at my wedding, my darling brother-in-law TOTALLY MENTIONED THIS in his toast and all of my old aunties were like "Honey, what paper do you write for?" "New York Times, Aunt Emily" and I ran away. So it's been a joke between us and, well, everyone Husband ever met in his whole life about this, and I still laugh and pat myself on the back for it.
Note: HAHAHAHA! So I tried to cut and paste the link for you, but this is what happened instead:
Content blocked by your organization
This Websense category is filtered: Tasteless.
Tasteless! Amazing. Anyway, I feel like now that I am married and Binkified, I don't care about finding guys to bone, I care about how much I can eat in one day.
What?! Because it's cold and I don't feel like going out and doing anything else. Right? Like, I just want to lament that I don't have the super-cute gray beanie hat with sparkles on it that the girl I take the train with who also has a LV tote (I am a bag whore, it cannot be helped or changed) OR her slim calves (it is a known fact that I have solid legs, again, cannot be helped or changed because I am lazy) and straight blonde hair while eating an entire bag of Cape Cod green onion chips with a trough of onion dip and an extra-large order of cheese fries (cheese goo, not real cheese, thanks) and then, because I can't ever not have dinner, my father-in-law's famous mac and cheese (Velveeta, mayo, cream of mushroom soup, a pepper and an onion) and then be sad that I have big thighs.
Yes. That actually was the longest sentence ever written.
Anyway, so I am in the very interesting dilemma wherein I am totally obsessed with being cute and skinny but in reality, all I care about are transfats. Oh, and justifying why I am required to eat said transfats ("my toe hurts") is also high on my list.
Oh, and every blog I read is about the same thing, so I know I'm not the only one suffering.
But I am probably the only one who has a missing piece of toe. More about that later.