You know it's a bad sign when...

1) Someone (or conglomerate) named vodkatwits begins following you on Twitter.

2) You have extreme chest pain and heightened heart rate during "I Love You, Man" and all you can think about is whether this means you shouldn't smoke (only occasionally, family member who read this.)

3) You take a cab instead of walking .44 miles (according to Google Maps).

4) A casual happy hour drink turns into nearly ruining your 8 year-long friendship with Meghan because you locked her out of your apartment, passed out and slept through six missed calls.

5) Pineapple juice tastes "off", and you realize it's because there's no vodka in it.

More to come as the signs that I should cease to exist pile up.



I am beginning to really worry that I'm turning into a hypochondriac.

And then I think that because I'm worrying about turning into a hypochondriac, I'm really a hypochondriac, for worrying about becoming a hypochondriac (get it? It's a vicious cycle.)

Lately, I've been learning about this MS drug at work...so I've convinced myself that I have MS.

It would explain the following symptoms:
1) Dizziness
2) Blurred vision
3) Extremely bloodshot eyes
4) Loss of feeling in extremities/ numbness
5) Impaired thinking (kidding...kind of.)

But so would a massive hangover...but I haven't been drinking TOO much lately (except for St. Paddy's Day)...

So chances are it's not MS.

Maybe I've got... Chinesefooditis.

Instead of MS...it's MSG!

See. I eat a lot of Chinese food. And everyone knows that the best ingredient of Chinese food is the MSG. It seriously makes it so much more delicious. And sure, I don't know what excess MSG does to the body, but it can't be good.

Probably not that though...but seriously...

I've noticed this to be a growing trend among my peers: an increased awareness of their health. Everyone seems to think they have something these days.

We're probably all fine, just miserable at our entry level jobs or flailing in the face of change and increased work.

That sounds about right to me...anything for a sick day!

(Shoutout to HS for her inspiration...MSG).


St. Patrick's Day--The Morning After

7:22 AM: Eyes flash open. Sit up quickly in bed. Look at my phone. It's only 7:22; I can sleep for twenty more minutes. Notice that I feel okay, not the least bit hungover.

7:43: Alarm goes off. Oh crap. I gotta shower. Realize the hangover has hit me a little bit late. I hit the snooze button.

7:53: Force myself out of bed. Rapidly thinking about excuses I could make to get out of work; realize there are none and I have no choice but to go. Will not trade career for hang over relief. Am not that stupid.

8:00: While in the shower, I remember an article I read on drinking yesterday. I took a quiz. One of the questions was "Is drinking affecting your career?" I said no. I lied.

8:30: Done with my hair, makeup, and dressed. Climb back into bed.

8:45: Finally leave my apartment for work. My 15 minute nap has not helped.

9:05: I arrive at work. Boss has decided to give me my 3 month review today. Pray that he does not notice my extremely bloodshot eyes, wobbly stance, and crankiness.

11:02: Look at last night's text messages. Sent my last one before passing out at 10 pm. Reads--"I'm addicted to cabs!" DAMMIT, I TOOK ANOTHER ONE.

11:13: Check bank account. Sob uncontrollably (yet silently and only in my head) at my desk.

Damn you, St. Patrick.



Check out the Flickr site for a view of our ghetto (according to my mother) neighborhood.


My mom: "It's so...dirty here."