I Can't, Vol. 34

I can't...

when my dog acts SO put out when I get up for the gym or work in the morning. Like, oh. SO sorry, Cece. Totally didn't meant to disturb you. I know how important your sleep is to you, since you do it ALL DAY. I feel terrible for getting up to start my day and waking you in the process. Really. Just awful. I just hope you can get back to sleep, which I know you will because, again, IT'S ALL YOU DO ALL DAY ANYWAY (video example below)

 

 

I can't...

handle the wall I pretty much T-BONE into at around 2:30 or 3 every day. Well, not every day. Just the ones that start with me at the gym. I'm there, and it's great, and I'm kicking my own ass and taking my own names. And I'm trucking through the better part of the day like "DON'T. STOP ME NOW. I'M HAVING SUCH A GOOD TIME, YEAH. I'M HAVING A BALL." And then — SMASH! Right into the 2:30/3 o'clock wall I run, like fucking Harry Potter during his first attempt at platform 9 3/4. Except instead of a cart full of chocolate frogs and potion books running into the brick wall, it's my body.

I can't...

that one of my best friends in life willingly laid on my bed the other night while I feverishly went through my dresser drawers in an effort to minimize my useless t-shirt collection — all while topless with my nipples starring her straight in the face. She was unfazed, which makes her the gem of a bestie she is.

I can't...

stop reading my new book and, although I know pitching books to read on here is a stretch, I'm gonna do it anyway. It's called "In Some Other World, Maybe." It's circulates around four key characters who all see the same movie on the same night but in completely different towns and states, and how their lives connect and intertwine over the next few decades. It's incredibly well written, hard to put down, and has sex. So, BIG win in my book (pun not intended there at all).

I can't...

wait for Fall. I know — it's so basic bitch of me, but it's stereotypical BECAUSE IT'S TRUE. Every person (unless you permanently live in Hawaii or California or somewhere of the like that's constantly warm) reaches a breaking point re: summer. And I'm not trying to sit here and claim that Texans deserve the Fall more than anyone else because of the hellacious heat indexes we're forced to deal with for three solid months every summer, but WE DO. WE DESERVE IT SO HARD. I'm done with sweating. I'm done with thinking a t-shirt and jeans is an acceptable summertime outfit, only to spend 15 minutes by night's end literally peeling denim off my legs. I'm done straddling the line between life and death whenever I step outside and can't breathe properly. I'm done paying $150 A/C bills. I'm done I'M DONE. I AM DONE. Give me scarfs! Give me booties! GIVE ME SOCKS AND LONG SLEEVES AND DRY SKIN OR GIVE ME DEATH.

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I can't...

tell you how close I am to starting weekly installments recounting my experiences/epiphanies/overall thoughts re: online/app dating. It's probably too soon to even be flirting with the idea of flirting because, unbeknownst to the general public since I put on mad fronts, I'm still a little fragile bird inside. BUT I got brave enough to download a few just for shits and gigs, and so far, I immediately regret my decision. I've seen a SHOE as a profile picture (literally, one single shoe), swiped left on about 33 guys from my high school, and have experience shock and awe over what poor conversationalists humans can be. Maybe I'm not ready for this yet. I don't think I am. 

I can't...

seem to keep my home orderly throughout the week. I'm one person with one, small dog. You would think keeping things in their right places Monday through Friday would be effortless. It makes me hate myself with how my place looks by day's end on Friday. Like where am I? How did I get here? Why is that there and how the fuck can one girl accumulate such a tall pile of dishes in one sink? Monday's laundry has been sitting in the dryer all week and is now more wrinkly than if the Real Housewives didn't botox, and also WHY IS MY KITCHEN TRASH ALWAYS FULL. LIKE WHAT AM I THROWING AWAY THAT IT'S THIS FULL ALL THE TIME? You'd think I just go through my house all week, tossing random shit in there for fun. MY LIFE IS IN SHAMBLES.

I can't...

understand how girls function without planners or agendas. How do you do life? How do you remember where you're supposed to be and when? How do you know what days you got to the gym or when your dog's vet appointment is? How do you recount every date night, girl's night, mood you were in that day, or keep your list of errands in check? HOW. This is the cover page of mine because IT IS HOW I FUNCTION. Yes, that says "my left tit."

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I can't...

tell you what I want to eat when you ask, but I can tell you exactly what I want to eat any other time of any day.

I can't...

think of anything else so that's that for today, everyone! Enjoy your weekend, make good decisions, listen to your gut, have some ice cream, do some exercise, and make it productive.

xox,

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