Freak Outs And Hot Pink Pills

Last trip I took was to Vegas early last year. I had a freak out on the way to the airport because I had forgotten to bring the Benadryl. I broke out into a sweat and started yelling erratically. My boyfriend can attest to that. But you have to understand that I suffered from insomnia in high school, and I will do anything to prevent it. I can honestly tell you that I do not remember the last two years of my high school career. It really was that awful. Finals, college applications, sleeping in desolated hotels, itchy sheets, and the floor of my friend's apartments brings on the worst bouts of insomnia. Other stuff too, but let's save that for another entry. So fuck yeah to a tiny, hot pink pill if it can put me to sleep. The downside is that I don't dream. Actually, I must dream, but I have no recollection of it. Now, before you think I have an addiction to Benadryl, let me assure you that I don't. I only use this lovely antihistamine when I travel, which is about 2-3 times a year, which hardly qualifies me as an addict. Besides, it's a totally ridiculous notion that one can be addicted to Benadryl.

Eat Your Cancer

My New Years resolution? To fucking smile more. I hate to admit this, but I'm terribly vain about my youthful looks. I've been applying sunblock religiously since I was 17 and almost all of my hobbies are conducted indoors. However, at the same time, I had cultivated this bitch look that's reserved for MUNI rides. Unfortunately, my bitch face has become my everyday face. I don't know when the transition occurred, but it probably has to do with my anxieties about being a grown ass woman with grown ass problems. How is this even related to my New Years resolution? Well, at a recent holiday party at a friend's home, a complete stranger assumed that I was 25. I was horrified! I thought to myself, "25!? Don't I look 18 anymore?" I spent a couple weeks pondering what is it that makes me look my age? The bags under my eyes from stress and lack of sleep? The blotchy, colorless skin? The nude patent pumps? The Banana Republic blue collar shirt? No, none of those possibilities because I've decided that it's my bitch look. True or not, I believe that if I can turn that frown upside down, I can magically erase the sagging lines at the corner of my eyes and lips. Actually, I should probably add sleep to that list. Oh, who am I kidding? I need to quit my fucking job.