Breathing stresses me out right now

I’m, like, super stressed out.

I have no less that 1 billion things on my to do list – my work to do list that is, my personal to do list is 60% laundry – that needs to be done before I go on “vacation” next week.

Am I the only one who stresses out about vacation? I’m NOT RELAXED! My neat and organized Excel travel itinerary is full of GLARING GAPS AND HOLES AND UNKNOWNS because I am traveling with normal, non-anal people which stresses me out even more. Because I don’t really want people to know how weird I am.

Anyway, my to do list is doing that thing where it should be getting smaller but isn’t. For every item I cross off, there are at least two more added. Where are they coming from!? THIS IS TOO MUCH RESPONSIBILITY!

Also, I wish my title was a joke but it’s totally not. I know I’ve hit a special level of stressed when I become panicked that I might forget to breath and die. This was also probably a bad week to pick up my coffee habit again. The last thing that I need is more energy. I should probably be on meds but going to a doctor stresses me out too.

I’m just going to cover up my to do lists and read some celebrity gossip.

Oh, and wine. I’ll pick up some wine on my way home tonight. Genius.




ps. There are no photos because for the last two weeks -in an attempt to not spend money/eat food- I have been binging  on Gossip Girl and other embarrassing netflix choices.

Wait, that’s a lie. Here’s some pie:

The crust made me cry. I’m not trying to rhyme on purpose, in fact it’s really annoying. My mom used to make us play the “rhyming game” because she thought she was hilarious with her little rhymes. ARGH IM SO WEIRD BECAUSE OF HER! Love you, mom.



The Hanger-Tangle and How It Took Over My Closet.

or, How I was almost featured on Hoarders…..

Click here for a photo that is awesome and applicable but stupid wordpress wont put it in my stupid blog post. Talk about first world problems. 

I moved into my current apartment back in June. It’s fine, nothing too special (except for the connected bathroom which makes me the happiest person in the whole world – I constantly get undressed to shower before I realize there are no towels in the bathroom, so it’s nice to have that extra privacy).

The house I lived in before had a tiny closet. TINY, tiny. It was sad, but I eventually adapted…in time to move again.

The closet in my current apartment is by no means huge, but is much, much larger than what I had previously. When I moved in and begin the torturous process of unpacking, I discovered that the previous tenant left behind clothes hangers.

I KNOW, you are probably thinking “Score! I never have enough clothes hangers!!” Wrong. Wrong, wrong. There were so many hangers hanging on the rods that there was no room for mine. Since I was drunk on champagne (how do you unpack?), I decided that I needed to keep all the hangers, you know, just in case my closet doubles in size. YOU NEVER KNOW! I also had grandiose thoughts of buying a freestanding clothing rack (I don’t have space for that nonsense). Going against logic, I decided to pack up all of my hangers and about half of the hangers in the closet into a large trash bag.

I then had a massive, awkward bag of hangers….and no place to put it. Closet floor it was!

The bag was fine for a few weeks and somehow the bag sprung a leak. Before I knew it, the hangers had breached their packaging and created a massive hanger-tangle on my closet floor.

I really did try to stop the hanger-tangle before it got out of hand, but I would pick up one hanger and the whole hanger-tangle would come at me. So, I did the next best thing: ignored it and more drank champagne.

The hanger-tangle prevented me from actually going into my closet because if I stepped on the hanger-tangle I would be acknowledging its existence….also I might not make it back out (Cause of death:  Hanger-Tangle-Strangulation. Also, cat ate her face off.) I would have to precariously lean in and out to hang clothes up or find something to wear (whatever, I’m used to being awkward). If I dropped something and wasn’t able to catch it mid-fall, it was gone. A silk shirt slipped through my fingers? Gone, the hanger-tangle had it now. Shoes? No, I don’t have any shoes in here, the hanger-tangle does though.

The hanger-tangle had completely taken over my closet and I didn’t know what to do. I stopped hanging things in my closet. My shoes lived scattered all over the place (okay, that has nothing to do with the hanger-tangle). The elephant in the room had gotten so big that there was only one logical thing that I could do. I closed my closet door never to be opened again.


Sunday, February 19, 2012  03:35am

I decided to reopen the hive my closet and see what had gone wrong. My worst fear was that the hanger-tangle would have multiplied and maybe even become self-aware??!? I went in (don’t freak out, I brought Cat with me as backup. Besides, if I was going to die in there, I didn’t want her to starve.) and was pleasantly surprised to find that the hanger-tangle had not gotten any larger, but it was still incredibly daunting.

I untangled my clothes. I untangled my shoes. I untangled my bags. I untangled those hangers.

And then, I did what I should have done on my first day there, what I should have done when the trash bag broke, what I should have done when I sealed off my closet.


I threw away 2 whole bags of plastic hangers.

I no longer have a hanger-tangle in my closet. More importantly, I no longer have to worry about maybe having to explain what the fuck a hanger-tangle is doing in my closet.


Here are some life-flaws you may have picked up on:

– I drink too much champagne (I don’t really…I drink too much of ALL alcohol, it’s being given up for lent)

– I don’t like to deal with hanger-tangles (problems) in life

– I’m the opposite of organized (well, WAS, my closet is awesome right now)

– I do my spring cleaning between 11pm and 5am on Saturday nights.

– Yes, my cat and I are single….how’d you know?

Someday, I WILL reproduce – ya’ll need to start getting ready

……….is it wrong that i totally love the babikini?

me:  it makes me want to call you mean names
personally, I find it ADORABLE and my future offspring shall have several

Mcp:  but wook at the widdle babyyyyyy
she’s so cuuuuute in her wittle babikiniiii

me:  BUT YOU, Hippocrite McFace, dont like cutesy baby things
like tutus.

Mcp:  huh?!
that’s totally different

me:  (hippocrite mcface is my attempt at super mean names for you)

Mcp:  hahhahahhahaahhahahahahaa

me:  (note the usage of “hippo” and the way the reader is now drawn to YOUR FACE)
its not all that different
what the hell is your skankbaby going to wear over her babikini???

Mcp:  i don’t have a problem wtih a a baby in a tutu like..occasionally
but tutus are not everyday wear
they should be worn very infrequently

me:  Mine will most certainly be preserving her mosdesty with a tutu

Mcp:  a tutu at the beach?!
wtf is wrong with you
my little thunderthighs hottie will be putting tanning oil on and playing beach volleyball
at the tender age of 3 monthso r so

me:  visual.
we really, really need to make sure that we coordinate baby making

Mcp:  hahaahahahahaha

me:  so our babyskanks can slut it up on the beach

Mcp:  omg i can’t wait
but seriously, tutu, on the beahc..retarded
tutus belong in dance studios
not on the beach

me:  whatever, miniskank with ROCK it