I need to write something, but I have no single topic to write about, so I'm going to throw it all out here in the open. While you read my gibberish thoughts, please enjoy the above song that has been stuck in my head all week. It's good, I promise.
You should first know that I'm fresh off watching the new episode of Sherlock and it's all I can think about. Such a brilliant episode. I laughed, I cried, I screamed, and then I took some ibuprofen because I have some wicked cramps.
Speaking of cramps, it's lady time over here. I know, TMI and stuff, but look. It's Tuesday night and I have a lot of words to say and a lot of hormones and this is how it has to be right now. Anyway. One PMS symptom I get every single time is cravings that would put a pregnant woman to shame. I am not kidding. I have actual food fantasies about things covered in cheese and grease and/or chocolate, and sometimes even about meat. And I don't even eat meat. Whatever part of my brain controls those desires goes absolutely haywire at the first sign of PMS hormones. Yesterday, all I could think about was bathing in a sea of chocolate while eating mac & cheese and onion rings. I mean, I was really thinking about it. So much so that I may have casually mentioned it once or twice or thrice to the guy who sits next to me. It was overwhelming, and the hershey kisses in my snack drawer weren't enough to quell the sea of greasy desire.
At 9:00 this morning I found myself elbow deep in a bag of white cheddar popcorn chips and once again discussing topics such as bathtubs full of chocolate with the potential of a plate of mac & cheese with a side of onion rings, and then maybe some cake? I don't know; I wouldn't want to get carried away. It was during this fantasy-fueled reverie that I looked at him and said "You know, I feel I should clarify that I'm not pregnant." He has two small children at home with a wife who helps deliver babies, so I know he knows the signs. I reassured him that I, uh, happened to positive of the fact that I'm not pregnant, which ironically is the reason for my pregnant-like behavior. He gave me the I'm going to smile and nod but I don't quite believe you look and and then quite seriously said "Funny you should mention that, because I was actually thinking of leaving a Clear Blue test on your desk tomorrow." I should probably tone down my love affair with food. You know, keep the PDA to a minimum. Maybe quit with the love letters and googly eyes altogether.
In other news, I tried jelly donut flavored coffee today. Here's a tip incase you're thinking of doing the same thing: don't. The coffee at work is only a half step above mud, so a lot of us have these ceramic filter things and make pour over coffee at our desk. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about? Is that a thing anywhere else? I know it's not a new thing, but it just became super trendy here. On a scale of one to Tim Gunn, how pretentious do I sound right now? Anyway, this is the thingymabob that I have, and I love it. You stick it on a coffee mug, then put a paper filter inside with a few scoops of your favorite coffee, then you pour hot water on top. It makes coffee just as good if not better than a coffee maker would. Long story still a long story, we all do that at work, and some hipstery coffee shops around town are popping up and making coffee this way. So yeah, a guy brought Dunkin Donuts jelly donut flavored coffee to work because he wasn't so sure that buying it was a good idea, so I made some to taste test it out of pure curiosity. And yikes. I mean, I drank it, because it was caffeinated, but whoooweee. Bad move, Dunkin. It took about 3 glasses of water and a bowl of chili to get the aftertaste out of my mouth.
Also in other news, two lights went out in our apartment within days of each other. And not just lightbulbs that can easily be replaced, but those tubular fluorescent deals. And they went out in the kitchen and the bathroom: the two worst places to not have working lights. I can't see myself to get ready, and I can't see my food. MY FOOD. I dream about food all day, and then I come home and I cannot even see it. The absolute horror. And because there is another polar vortex monster roaming about, people have real issues like no heat, so our lightbulb issues have to wait. Good thing it's really not that big of a deal and I'm actually just a drama queen.
It's probably time for me to go read and go to sleep. I'm reading 1984, as I've mentioned, and I'm confused as to why I'm so engrossed in it. I'm surprised I never had to read it in school, but I'm glad because it's the kind of book I know I would've hated if forced to read it in 11th grade when all I cared about was if Rory Gilmore should keep dating Logan or not. I think I needed to get my degree in English before I had the ability to read these types of books and really appreciate and understand them. Most people have that ability before they choose English as a major, but what can I say? I was in it for the creative writing classes. Project read/reread the classics is still going strong.
BRB, off to dream about cake.