20%

Photo via The Bloggess. Profanity neccessary.

This picture so appropriately sums up how I've been feeling. Except I'm not baking souffles...

I've identified probably 80% of what is bothering me. There is no way around it, and I don't feel much like explaining the why portion of it. This week will simply have just have to come and go, and I'll hopefully be 80% better next week. Maybe it's one of those things that just acknowledging it's pressence is enough to avert disaster. Like quietly giggling when you have broken wind in a public place.

Anyway, the other 20% is a bit of mystery to even me. I mean, surely other perfectly 'normal' people go through these funks. Even Beyonce must have times where she doesn't feel like throwing on a leotard and running the world...
Funk or not, luckily, these greeted me this morning when I got to work.

That possibly lesbian or at least bi-curious Asian girl has been on the
Tagalongs box as long as I can remember. This permanence makes me happy.

Other than the cookies themselves, this is exactly what I LOVE about the Girl Scouts. Think about it, one day, I impulse purchase diebetic bliss when approached by some mom doing her daughter's dirty work and weeks later out of nowhere there they are, and on a day where fat girl food therapy is just what I needed.

It's like pre-ordering yourself a deep dish meat lovers pizza at 1 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon for delivery at 3 A.M. when you know your future drunk self will need it and want it the most.

Speaking from personal experience, ordering a pizza drunk is probably the hardest thing you will ever have to do. 1) you want EVERYTHING, 2) the waiting is the closest thing to torture an average middle-class person will experience in his/her life, and 3) the lady at Pizza Hut taking your order at this very late hour is wishing you would fall off a very tall balcony as you slur your credit card number on your dying iPhone.

Finally, I would like to apologize for the vague 20% sadness/weirdness/funk mentioned before my paragraphs detailing the joy of cookies and pizza. It's like that facebook status that is just a sad face or 'everything's the worst' sort of bulls**t that I try to almost always 'like.' I am actively hating myself for being that brand of Internet pitiful today. Later I might even have a tweet like 'get these cookies away from me, my pizza will be here in 20 minutes. #emotionallyeating.'

But for real, I'm gonna so legitly get down with those Tagalongs later, one of us should probably take a pregnancy test the next day...

PS - I know things will get better, because we live in a world where some whimsical genius named a box of childhood obesity causing cookies 'Thank You Berry Much.' (This is the ONLY reason I bought them. You win this round, puns.)