I'm probably going to have to have one wall of my apartment removed, so that Jerry Springer can come rescue me and ship me off to the fat farm, because I cannot stop eating. This phenomenon started about a month after I moved to New York. I blame it on the following things:
1) I walk everywhere. My car still lives in Massachusetts, and obviously no one drives in New York anyway. I've also stopped taking the subway whenever I can walk, because when the train is even five minutes late, or God forbid, delayed in a tunnel, I go completely insane and start rocking and muttering to myself. Now we know where all the homeless people come from.
2) I stay up too late, even when I am not out at a free happy hour, which is where I was last night, and aren't you jealous? You should be. Mama got crunk, babies, and then she started talking like this. I blame alcohol poisoning. P.S.: Ma Smash called me twice, and the second time I decided I better pick up the phone. Meanwhile? She's totally going to send me to rehab. You better hope they have Internet access there.
3) No, I am not pregnant, Rolfe. Jeez.
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Aha!!! You ignored your mother on the first call,eh? Listen Missie, you just pick up that phone when your mother calls unless you are inflagrante dellicto! (?spelling but you all know exactly what I mean!)
ReplyDeleteLove, Ma Smash