Stress

It's just like I am back in college: the fucked up sleep habits, the chain smoking, the fear of food--overeating my stress but fucking up my stomach by living off of tea and diet coke.

Except today, as a woman in her mid-twenties, I can't sleep until noon or drink my problems away. I have a job, I have responsibilities. And 13 people arriving in NYC.

By the end of next week, I am going on a weekend drug and alcohol bender that would make Courtney Love blush. I promise to resume regular postings about my inappropriate drunk behavior. Until then, read the archives--Dec-Jan were some funny months--and be satisfied with these little nuggets.

Last year around this time I fell in love. 3 months after, both Columbia and he rejected me. I would be lying if I said it doesn't cross my mind each time I study break outside for a cigarette.