so people have their vices...i most commonly hear about committed smokers of pot and couch potatoes with no intention of turning off the set. personally, i find myself relying on freecell, jello pudding and copiuos draughts of malt liquor. not that i don't have my tv-junkie moments- my favorite scene on this evening's will and grace went something like this:
will's dad: thanks for these cruise tickets, will! wow, look at this...they even offer ice skating lessons given by michelle kwan!
grace: (ruefully) to be honest, that seemed like a way bigger deal back when he was buying the tickets.
so i'm not immune to the normal ones. but add a lack of motivation combined with unflinching self-aggrandizement to the list of habits i've yet to kick and things start to get a little weird. but i'm sure that any day now i'll wake up to find that my bedroom has more than one legal-envelope-sized window, my hair is straight, i dont smell like beer and i'm in bed with someone else. this someone else, of course, will be understanding enough to forgive me for waking him up with the smell of coffee as i get ready to 'put in an appearance' at the office before ducking out early and heading to the farmers market to buy something organic and overpriced to make for dinner. that's right; any day now i'll find myself shaking myself out of a daydream as i thoughtlessly chop garlic for a marinara, being read some article of dubious relevance to me by a boyfriend who has had enough wine to misconstrue my job title (once again) to include duties i have never performed. then reading, then perfect sex, then a bed with four pillows. then, in the middle of the night, when i rise and tiptoe to the refrigerator, i will not feel like an asshole as i reach for a couple individually packaged cups of jello chocolate pudding to take back to my station at the dell in the den, where i'll polish off the forty of Camo i've stashed in the minibar, dragging and clicking spades and diamonds until i must finally make the coffee to wake the someone else and start all over again.
as i'm typing my boss is trying to fix a computer problem i can barely understand. this is funny because she's a chubby permed grandmother whose desktop wallpaper is a picture of a black stallion cantering majestically through a field of green, and she obviously has no idea what the fuck she's trying to get done.
and before you get the idea to suggest that perhaps she and i have more in common than i'd thought, let me tell you to shut the goddamn hell up.