I Can't, Vol. 38

Oh! Hey, guys. What up? So, as of late, I've been a little caught up in my podcast (soon to be known as "2 Girls, 1 Closet") and decided it was high time for a new post about things I can't. 

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I can't...

decide whether or not I'm into "Nurse Jackie." I loved House because of its dark, cynical nature and because House was so delightful to watch in action, even when he was at his worst. Typically, I'm not one for doctor dramas — "Grey's" never captured me and "ER" was too before my time. But I've heard enough positivity toward "Nurse Jackie" that I've decided to give it a shot. I'm about 4-5 episodes in and have noticed there are an unnecessary amount of awkward pauses, but I have to know WTF happens with her affair and marriage.

I can't...

believe I'm admitting this, but I guess I need someone to make me feel better about it. I forgot to get more dog food for Cece this weekend so, Sunday night, in a fit of panic and last-minute desperation, I crushed up tortilla chips and sprinkled them with shredded cheese to create a cold bowl of nachos for her. I'm sorry, guys. I really am. I'm sorry for myself, for her, for the fact that I'm choosing to write this and post it publicly. But like. She loved it and her breath smelled like tortilla chips afterwards. This is real life. THIS IS THE LIFE OF A SINGLE MOM.

I can't...

handle this entire segment. If you haven't watched it yet, do so now. And to the very end. Don't watch half of it and exit out and pretend you watched it all the way through. I'LL FIND OUT.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nck6BZga7TQ

I can't...

believe I cracked my phone screen... again. Why. WHY. I try so hard to not go full basic bitch, then this shit happens and I realize I'm no better than the rest of them, walking around with a semi-cracked phone. I mean, I'll get it fixed just not right now. Maybe when I come into a little extra spending cash, i.e. never?

I can't...

seem to be on top of washing out my office coffee cups. I've realized as of late that I pull the kind of disgusting shit at work that I would never dream of pulling at home. Literally, my two work coffee mugs are sitting on my desk just inches from me as I type, CAKED in 2-week old (or longer) coffee paste. It's fucking foul. But at home, I can't even sit down and enjoy rewatching the same episode of "Gilmore Girls" for the 17th time if there's so much as a day-old, half-empty water glass on the counter. #gofigure

I can't...

with read receipts and that's my final answer. I've lamented about them before and tried to find reasonable reasoning as to why anyone would ever keep them turned on, but I've ultimately concluded that only true sociopaths keep them on. Seriously and honestly. Something is off with you if you want people to see how much you do or don't care about getting back to them. You're most likely a power-tripping narcissist with an unwarranted inflated ego, and I'M STICKING TO IT.

I can't...

figure out how to get in my recommended daily protein intake. It's a lot, guys! To really pay attention and eat the particular amount of protein you should to remain healthily stuffed, it's like... a shit load of protein. And guess what? Peanut butter doesn't count, not really. It's more of a fat source than anything (but so0o0o0o0o0o good). You're supposedly supposed to consume 1 gram of protein per every pound of your weight. So that's, like, 90 grams a day for me (LOLOLOLOLOL). 

I can't...

accept that Donald Trump could be an actual candidate for presidency. Like it could be between him and someone else.I'm not a political person by any means, but that... that's just. This perfectly captures my feels about it all:

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I can't...

with this quote from Jenny Lawson's new book, "Furiously Happy":

"When we share our struggles we let others know it's okay to share theirs. And suddenly we realize that the things we were ashamed of are the same things everyone deals with at one time or another. We are so much less alone than we think."

It's exactly why I write like I do — so openly, exposing just enough that my readers feel they can relate to me/know me and am not just some typical surface-level, "everything's just peachy!" blogger. Because life isn't peachy; it's not depressing either. It's just life. It's full of ups and downs and truths that are uncomfortable to talk about for most. But not for me! So I enjoy getting "raw." It can be cathartic. 

I can't...

that my workplace celebrates birthdays by gifting the individual with a hot, steaming order of Tiff's Treats cookies. Working within an agency of 150+ people, that means it's someone's birthday at least once a week (I don't do math, it just feels like it's once a week). Which means that, at least once a week, I'm tempted by warm-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, and M&M cookies. Sometimes brownies. Sometimes even ice cream. And I'd be lying if I said I can sometimes resist helping myself to a cookie, because I take one every.single.time. #YOGTESEBCOAWAL (You Only Get To Eat Someone Else's Birthday Cookies Once A Week At Least).

I can't...

with this:

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I can't...

when I'm in the deepest sleep of my life and Cece barks loudly out of nowhere. At nothing. For no reason. I've never hurt my dog, but in those moments, I've definitely considered it.

I can't...

when I forget my lipstick and have that horrible, crackwhore look where the only lipstick hanging onto my lips lines the edges and has completely disappeared from the main lip area. It happens to the best of us and in those moments, one must decide whether to try and smudge the residual lipstick across the entirety of one's lips or wipe it all off and go bare/dry-lipped until you can reunite with your lipstick. Kinda like this but way uglier:

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I can't...

decide whether or not I should open my Snapchat to "everyone" or keep it at just "friends." I've toyed with it and, although it's pretty tight to get like 100 views on a snap, I'm also like... who arethese people viewing my shit? Not like I post anything on there I wouldn't post here or any other public platform, but it's just... kinda strange to be able to actually see who is viewing your stuff. Thoughts? Comments? it's        @ icantemma, if you were wondering.

xox,

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