wish i could shut my playboy mouth

Totally typical night. Huge tub of cookie dough, massive bottle of wine, The Office, Dylan leaving at like 10, a run to the Russian liquor store at 10:30 in arctic conditions wearing a coat over my pajama pants, making pasta for me and Tim at 2:30 in the morning after we watch Y Tu Mama Tambien and Weeds, making inappropriate comments via text (though not too bad).

I had my first phone conversation with the love of my life, who probably knows that he is the love of my life, because he constantly refers to me as "bud" or "amigo." Bastard. I say that with love.

I set my alarm for 11:45 so I can wake up, buy a Lady GaGa ticket, and go back to bed if I choose. I think I will stay awake. Maybe. Maybe not. Actually, let's be realistic, I'm going back to bed.

I gave into the animal handler, so he's coming in tomorrow night. Goddamnit. And tonight I am supposed to go to Max Brenner with Laurel, so that should be interesting and high-calorie.

I hope that I get a phone call from the company I interviewed with today, rather than Tuesday, but that might be a little too optimistic. 

I need to cut my fingernails. And eat vegetables. And work out.