Greetings--
So far I've noticed that the only thing creating this blog has accomplished so far is creating intense feelings of guilt every time i even look at a cookie (because that TOTALLY didn't exist before). While i swear I am absolutely dedicated to not dying a fiery death at the Warrior Dash right now I am totally consumed by finding a job and starting my life. In between reading young adult novels about vampires and werewolves and looking for jobs I have very little time left. That probably is untrue, but whatever, I'm wallowing.
Yesterday, after a particularly excruciating interview and let down (I made it to the final three candidates but didn't get the job) I parked my ass at a bar in Grand Central Station and chugged a blood orange margarita in what I can only describe as a crippling-depression induced blackout. Afterward, I felt guilty and thought about how I might justify it to all (ha!) of our readers and here is what I came up with: I deserved it and if I can't make room in my life for a "i-feel-bad-for-myself" mid-afternoon cocktail then this is no life for me.
Anyway, it's a million degrees outside right now and I admit that I have yet to really dedicate myself to a fitness regiment. I am currently debating going outside for a light yog around the apartment complex but I promise that as soon as ALEXIS gets her crap together and we join the gym I will have more exciting updates about my asthma attacks and shin splints. My athleticism is astounding, you're all in for a treat.
On that note, I will leave you with a photograph of my margarita and an (insincere) apology to anyone that I might have let down because I drank it.
Ciao,N.
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