poor crazy dude

So, I'm walking to school today when I see this dude standing sort of close to the curb. He's gesturing to no one in particular, and talking in this kind of high sing-song-y voice, and as I watch him I think,

Awww. Poor crazy dude.

He doesn't look like your average crazy dude. He's wearing skinny jeans, for pete's sake. I don't know what the correlation is with skinny jeans and mental health, but there you go.

As I pity the poor crazy dude and think about how sad it is that no one is actually talking back to him, the crowd ahead of me parts, and I see:

His young daughter.

As I walk past I think how funny, that schizophrenia and attempting to parent a child present in such similar manners.

Poor crazy dude.

melodramatic me

4/14/92, 8:08pm

"Today was awfully sleepy. The old ache is back. I feel kind of empty. What hurts the most, though, is feeling so lonely and not being able to tell anyone. I keep thinking that somewhere there's a friend that I can really talk to . The sky is unhappy, because I am. I can tell. When I am happy the sky is violet, or a deep blue. Tonight, it is a sad blue. I do have friends that nobody knows about. The moon is my friend, and one star that is always above my window. That sounds horribly childish, but it is true."

Geez.

Someone really should have limited my L.M. Montgomery intake.

****Addendum: I was thirteen when I wrote this, so don't worry. While I do have very positive feelings regarding the moon, stars and sky, I no longer consider them to be close personal friends. I feel more than slightly embarrassed that apparently at one time, I did.****

i'm late for my PETA meeting

So, it's been approximately a million years since my last post. Apparently when I get stressed typing is impossible, what with all the curling up in the fetal position and thumb sucking and all.

Well, after some lengthy pep talks from Paul, my mom, and my good friends Ben and Jerry, I have crawled out from under the table, pried my shriveled thumb from my mouth, consumed several pounds of sugar, and, I am pleased to say, feel much better. A month plus of sugar consumption and thumb sucking will do that for you.

So, uh, yeah....

Here I am.

Let's see, what has happened in a month? Well, my brother Walt got married, which came as a huge shock since I thought he was still nine (turns out he's quite a bit older), and I had spring break, during which I watched a lot of Gilmore Girls, shouted "SPRING BREAK!!!" quite loudly at random and talked a lot about running around in a string bikini while holding a red plastic cup filled with root beer because I've heard that's what the kids do during spring break nowadays. Well, maybe not the root beer part.

It was a good week and a half. I ate like a five year old and stayed up until two in the morning a couple of times and once I even forgot to brush my teeth.

It was wild.

Now, I'm back at school and facing something most distressing:

I think maybe my literature teacher doesn't like me.

I've had my fears, but today when I approached her after class to ask for clarification of a word she scribbled at the end of one of my papers and she didn't beam with smiles as she gave her response I thought, hey. Does she not like me?

I thought about it all the way to the subway.

I mean, I'm at every class. I'm punctual. I turn in all of my assignments in a timely fashion, participate in class, come up with some fairly un-stupid ideas. What's not to like?

Am I obnoxious? I mean, I do sit at the front of every class, and maybe I do beam from ear to ear when she walks in, but that's just because I really like her class. Geez. Listen to me. I can't stand me.

Maybe I should sit in the back, and look sort of morose and troubled. Yeah, that's good.

Is it because I wore that bright pink lipstick last week? Dang. I'm too girly. I knew it! Okay, so I'll put on some sort of ripped clothes, and maybe they should be flow-y. Yeah, flow-y is good. I won't wear any makeup, and I'll perhaps neglect to put on a foundation undergarment and buy a pair of thick soled sandals and run them over with my neighbor's stroller a few times to make it look like I wear them to all my PETA meetings.

Yeah, that's good.

I feel better having a plan. Maybe then she'll like me.

on unsolicited fish plates

Has anyone else seen the commercials for Long John Silver's?

You know, the ones where someone walks up to the fast food counter and orders a greasy and calorie laden dish only to be doused with buckets of water and handed a plate of fish?

Every time I watch that commercial I can't help but think....

I would be really peeved, man.

I mean, if I ordered french fries, you bet your sweet patootie I want my french fries. Also I don't want to have to sit all soaking wet and eat my fish plate that I didn't want in the first place.

I'm just saying.

Also Ellen said that I've been posting about food a lot lately, and she's completely, completely right, so I would also like to say that in my American Lit class today I totally made a comment about how the Gettysburg Address contrasts with the Declaration of Independence and came dangerously close to letting a "booyeah" slip out. I didn't, though. Also I wasn't even thinking about food when I made the comment. For the record.

Booyeah.

a little weezer for your friday

So a fun thing to do when you're supposed to be working on your paper for your literature class is to look up silly music videos on youtube. This has long been a favorite of mine, seeing as it features THE MUPPETS and I really, REALLY love the muppets. Okay, fine. I'll go work on my paper.

just to make it interesting

My shipment of Girl Scout Cookies has arrived.

Five boxes of thin mints.

Yep. I know.

At least it isn't twelve boxes like last year.

i immediately regret this decision

Ahem. Let it be known to all that I, Andrea Boerem, have of my own free will determined to eat only one dessert a week for the month of March.

I'm really not sure what I was thinking.

It just happened so fast- I was doing some grocery shopping with my friend Hillary, and all of a sudden she was telling me how she's cutting back desserts to once a week and I was nodding my head in frenzied agreement and saying "Yeah! I've been meaning to cut back on sweets anyway!!"

Which I have. What? Well, I have.

Really. Although I guess it's been more of an idea floating around the back of my brain, along with some others like wanting to memorize the entire Constitution including amendments (good party trick) and learning how to do a back-flip. You know, things that I never actually plan to do.

I really have been on sort of a shame spiral in the sweets department lately. Now, I've never been one to deny my undying love of sugar. Sure, I'll have chocolate chip cookies for breakfast sometimes, and cheesecake is just as yummy for dinner as it is for dessert, but lately it's gotten.....bad. Really, really bad.

I think I realized it when I polished off the last of an entire sheet of eclair cake. For lunch. Which was followed by ice cream for dinner. Chased by some golden Oreos for a nightcap.

So, it was time for a change. Maybe that's what I was thinking. Or maybe I was shamed into it after reading one of those tell-all stories about supermodel diets where you find out that all they eat is tofu and paper.

Either way, I found myself walking home from the grocery store trying desperately to weasel my way out of my predicament. We said desserts only once a week, but natural sugars were okay. Since fruit and I are still not on speaking terms, I reviewed my remaining options.

Honey is natural. That's good. I love honey. What else? Granola bars are okay, we agreed on those, that's good....hmmm. Things were looking bleak already.

I walked in to the apartment. I'm only eating one dessert a week for the month of March, I said.

Paul stared. Why?

Good question. I mumbled something about eclair cake, and retired to the kitchen to examine the contents of my pantry for something that tasted like a Mars bar without actually containing sugar.

I meant to start on Sunday, but then we had a baby shower to go to and someone brought homemade chocolate mousse and I'm not made of stone, people, so.....I caved. I caved and inhaled that silken chocolatey deliciousness and thought....tomorrow. I'll start tomorrow.

I meant to. I really meant to, but Kevin and Ryanne came over for dinner and they brought S'mores cookies which I had never before heard of but oh heavenly day they smelled celestial, and.... I melted. I melted into a weak-willed Andrea puddle and devoured that S'mores cookie with wild abandon. I only had one, though. That's a start, right?

Things are getting better. This morning, for example, I didn't even think about having my normal pre-breakfast sampling of ice cream. I'm pretty proud of that. Also I made blueberry muffins and I only had two measly ones, so small that really they only count as one. Although I may have put some chocolate chips in the mix. Maybe.

Paul just came in. He saw what I'm posting about. Are you sticking with it? He asked me with a look on his face like I'm about to split myself into two people.

Uh, yeah, I said, the muffins don't count, to which Paul replied WHO ARE YOU KIDDING? THE MUFFINS TOTALLY COUNT, so I said actually they don't because they're just the Jiffy muffin mix kind and I only put a few chocolate chips in them, and chocolate chips are totally found in granola bars and we agreed granola bars are okay and also muffins aren't a dessert they're a snack, so....

I'm good. I'm compliant, and I would like the Invisible Sweets Police People to know that.

Then Paul asked, where are you going to get with denial like that?

I don't know what he's talking about. I'm not in denial.