Monday, June 21, 2010

Ugh.

I've been watching old "Sex and the City" DVDs lately.

Don't judge.

Seriously... stop judging.

Anyway, judger, there's nothing good on TV and my OnDemand has been on the fritz. I also have lingering Stanley Cup depression and can't bring myself to watch sports. So I'm watching this show that I really used to relate to back in college and I feel guilty. I mean, I'm supposed to wear black and chain smoke and listen to angry music and I own a pit bull and now I am wearing a pink t-shirt and crying over the episode where Charlotte's marriage breaks up.

Who the FUCK am I?

I'm Carrie.

I have an unhealthy shoe obsession (mostly Nikes), am a writer, have sickening amounts of debt (it used to be credit cards and as soon as I got that under control, it became student loans for grad school), have wavy hair that I straighten and dye when other things in my life aren't working out, sabotage every relationship I'm in, underwent an overhaul (I quit smoking and stopped eating meat. Really, Adrienne?) and have a quick, witty one-liner for everything.

I'm a fucking cliche.

Ugh.

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