I Can't, Vol. 29

Is this really volume 29? My "I can't"s are in their last year of their 20s??? That's scary. But not really, because I can't.

I can't...

that, in a few short weeks, it's May. Then Memorial Day. Then Watch Me Sweat And Probably Get Broken Up With Because Of My Excessive Amount Of Sweat (aka SUMMER). Where do days go? Oh, I know. To work. And the 2-3 hours after work you are gracefully given by America. Stop that, America. You're too sweet!

I can't...

but I would. So hard.

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I can't...

with how quickly delicious, fruity gum looses its flavor. Figure it out, Orbit (and Juicy Fruit :D). I'm trying to chew you in order to curb all my animalistic, estrogen-driven cravings, and if you can't give me a solid 15 minutes, how can you expect me to continuously NOT cheat when cupcakes, donuts, or random chocolate waltzes by? I don't like having to spit out your nasty flavorless ass in order to indulge. MAKE IT STOP.

I can't...

accurately describe the flood of emotions that run through me when a meeting I've been dreading gets unexpectedly cancelled at the last minute. And, not only that, but when it's then pushed to like, the following week? I CAN'T. I want to openly cheer and find some girl dressed in a 1940's nurse outfit so I can dip and kiss her. 

I can't...

usually ignore Instagram, but in the rare instances I completely forget about it or the fact that I posted a picture on it way earlier, then open the app to find a good amount of likes. Whew. That's like... a happy little surprise for myself, really. #sosad. 

I can't...

with Grandma's Hummus. Earlier this week, I couldn't so much with it that I posted this erratically insane status about it on my personal FB:

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I guess as a white girl who has eaten her fair share of expected and #basic hummus, I thought I had eaten it all. I had finally settled for the "pretty good" quality of Sabra, until they went and fucked everything up with Listeria. Idiots. So I had to rethink my chickpea-based game plan, and that's when I remembered the delicious hummus I had tasted in Austin in February that should be available at Central Market here in Dallas. AND IT WAS. And it. is. DELICIOUS. I'm sorry if you don't live in Dallas or Austin and have access to this stuff, but maybe if you trust me enough that this shit is magical, you can go here and order some? It's perfect. Garlic, lemon, a little bit of kick. I CAN'T. But I can and have with about half the container in 3 days.

I can't...

WAIT FOR THIS. CANNOT.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URdu8u0pVDw

Let's all gather at my house the night after it airs and discuss it in depth over popcorn and wine, shall we?

I can't...

with anymore of these "But first coffee" or "The hours between coffee and wine really are pointless." Like, SHUT. THE FUCK. UP. Yes, coffee's great. It's obviously part of any sane individual's balanced daily routine. Everyone knows that. But like. Just stop with the silly phrases. Especially the latter. Oh — so, work doesn't matter? You're so miserable at your job, that you float through your 9-5 unmotivated and uninspired, bringing barely anything to the table and literally praying for the hours to go by as quickly as possible? That's upsetting. Maybe find a job you care about? A job that makes getting coffee in the morning fun and getting to celebrate a hard day's work afterwards with a nice of glass wine rewarding? I know what you're thinking: "Why is this bitch so upset? I mean, it's just a stupid phrase." But there are so many stupid phrases, it was just a matter of time before I honed in on a specific category of them that I just CANNOT with any longer. The coffee/wine phrases won.

I can't...

when people try to talk to me when I have headphones on. What do you think is going on in here? Like low-level whispers? No. If my headphones are on, I'm in the process of drowning out any outside noise while simultaneously destroying my ear drums. I don't play around with volume levels. I have these on for a reason, which is to NOT be available to you or hear what you have to say unless you throw something at me to get my attention.

I can't...

put too much stock into our country's progression, because I have my doubts. But I would be lying if I didn't admit that a small part of me would think it's cool as hell if Hillary took it home next year (please don't break up with me, boyfriend. Please). You know who else would think it's cool? This maddeningly adorable badass:

watson

I can't...

with this very real story I posted on my personal FB yesterday. As one girl commented, "ALL of your situations are so relatable...they really hit home and make me feel like my similar conundrums are NOT stupid." I've said it once, and I'll say it a thousand more times: I will always out-crazy your crazy. That's what I'm here for. To make you feel way less crazy than you think you are. And, with that, here's my story from yesterday:

"she knew running out to get her grocery shopping done during her lunch break was a risk with a 1pm client call, but it was one she was willing to take. for, you see, being a working adult with limited after-work hours to fully take advantage of, she had to find time to squeeze these sort of petty errands in wherever she could (that is, if you consider having fresh food at home "petty," but that's neither here nor there). so, the girl walked briskly to her car, drove the five minutes to the nearest grocery, and reminded herself she only had 20 minutes to spare. of course, in her state of zealousness, the girl had forgotten to take into account how excited grocery stores made her — how getting in and out in 20 minutes wasn't feasible for an errand-lover like herself. sure enough, before she knew it her iPhone read 12:45. her blood started pumping. her heart pumped. in a race against time, she flew out of the store, somehow managed to separate her refrigerated goods from her "fine on the counter until they rot" goods, and began the illegal speed back to the office. BUT THEN, cops. sirens. an overturned car. no, not hers. a total stranger's that had backed traffic up by a solid five minutes. "stuck at the light by the office, but I'll be there!!!" she frantically emailed in all lowercase. once she had used every curse word combination known to man, she pulled safely into the parking lot, grabbed her bag of fridge goods, raced to the elevator, watched as an overweight man took it from floor 4 to floor 5, raced out, threw the bag in the communal fridge, and began power walking to the meeting room. turning the corner, she saw the meeting in process — the strategic planner in the midst of the setup before it would be this girl's time to present the concepts. taking off like a toddler who was just promised Funfetti cake, the girl sprinted down the hall toward the meeting room, clad in her loud AF sandals, her newly-shortened curls flying behind her. she pulled up a chair to the table, wiped literal sweat from her brow, took several stifled breaths because I guess the gym doesn't really work, and presented the concepts at 1:05pm. the end."

xox,

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