Paranoia is also what I do.

Me:  "I need you to mail me that book I let you borrow a few months ago."

Friendish:  "What the hell, TAB?  I'm like 3/4 of the way through it!  I'll send it when I'm done."

Me:  "No, I need it now.  I'm quitting TV again.  I need all the books I can get.  Lots of reading to do."

Friendish:  "Quitting TV?  Care to explain that one?"

Me:  "It's plotting against me."

Friendish:  "The TV is plotting against you."

Me:  "Yes."

Friendish:  "I'm gonna need more information."

Me:  "It's Saturday night.  I'm in my apartment alone.  You know what's on TV?  "He's Just Not That Into You" and "The Notebook" and a horror movie I saw on a date with an ex.  Do you see the plotting?"

Friendish:  "Right, yes.  You could, you know, leave the apartment and go be social with other human beings."

Me:  "We're discussing my television formulating plots to unhinge me emotionally and you think I'm in some condition to interact with others?  Without supervision?!"

Friendish:  "Good point.  So, drinking alone in your apartment again?"

Me:  "You know what?  Do what you know.  And damn, man, stop judging me."

Friendish:  "It's what I know."

I missed you, but not enough to write about it. But I am now!

I have definitely started this post like, three times already.  It's been close to eternity since I posted anything because I've been getting settled in Seattle (stop it, I'll make all the excuses I want) and frankly, nothing that earth-shattering has happened.  Except that I'm in Seattle now.  Oh, and that I started a new job and just quit it last week.  And that I'm dating again.

Damn.  I suck at that whole, "What's new, TAB?" thing.  Usually I just say, "Nothing," but clearly the correct answer is, "Oh--everything."

Let's just go over this work thing so that you guys don't think I'm some kind of serial quitter because technically, it was more like... half-fired, half-quit.

I took a job with an internet marketing company pretty quickly after I moved because they were looking for journalist-types and as luck would have it, I am sort of a journalist-type.  Fast forward a few weeks when they decided to restructure the department and "go in another direction" with their editorial content.  My boss pulled me aside and said my writing style was too creative for the job.  "But I can be boring," I thought about saying in protest.  "Haven't you seen my blog?!"  (Hahaha.  Burn.  Wait...)

But my boss said he wanted to keep me in the company due to my inherent awesomeness and tried to find a place for me in marketing, which he understood to be a more creative outlet.  I tried sitting through the training in marketing for a couple hours and decided that it was not for me...exacerbated (in part) by the fellow tasked with my training who gave me the creeps and reeked of halitosis and cheap leather.  A fellow, I gathered, who was overly excited about his position of power and probably got his jollies from anime pornography.  (Not that I'm judging, if that's your thing.  It's just not mine.)

Anyway, I realized I would be happier reshelving books at a Barnes and Noble or being a coffee bitch at some nearby Starbucks whilst I take on this editorial internship in October, so here I am.

And you know what?  I missed you guys.  And I missed my blog.  And it's been a minute since I've written anything and honestly, my pride is a little wounded from being told that I'm "too creative" for a job, so be patient with me while I figure this shit out again.

Also, final though:  fall is approaching in Seattle and it feels so different from fall in L.A.  I love it.  It's time for pumpkin spice lattes and Halloween decorations.  And some decorative fall gourds.

I love you guys.

I know it's inevitable, but shut up, anyway.

Happy Friday, homies.  So, I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I've decided Los Angeles is too much for me (omg dude stop judging me, I've been here for like 4 years) and I've finally accepted that Jason Segel is not going to show up and declare his love for me, even though he should because I'm pretty sure we're soul mates.  I'm hauling my pasty California ass up to Seattle, mainly to find other pasty, failed hipsters who love food and like, dogs and books and stuff.  Also?  I freaking love rain.  I love Jason Segel, too, but I just don't think it's going to work out without one of us getting a restraining order.  (Probably not me.)

Anycrap, yesterday I put my two weeks' notice in at my job and braced myself for the question I knew was coming from one of my coworkers, and sure enough, it happened:

"So, is your boyfriend moving with you?"

That's right.  My imaginary boyfriend.

"Oh.  Well, no.  He's staying here for work, you know.  But I told him I wanted to focus on my career when I was in Seattle, anyway, so we're gonna see what happens..."

Vague enough, right?  I merely hoped my coworker wouldn't notice me sweating profusely and breathing like a cornered animal.  Sorry, but lying gives me heart palpitations.  I suck at it.

"Well, if things don't work out, I'm willing to make a long distance relationship work," he said to me, quite candidly, at that.

I stared at him.  I didn't even know how to respond.  My eye started to twitch.  Crickets chirped.  A tumbleweed blew by.  My coworker just stood in my doorway, waiting for me to respond.  I did what every calm, cool, collected, and emotionally stable woman would do in my situation - I pretended I heard my office phone ring and answered it.

My coworker raised an eyebrow at me, as if he was only suddenly beginning to understand the depth of my neurotic psychosis and social anxiety.  I nodded into my phone and started writing down "phone notes" of whatever important conversation I was having:  "I like sandwiches."  "I need to go to the bank."  "Maybe I should get sushi for lunch."

If Los Angeles has taught me anything, it's that I find myself increasingly ill-equipped to deal with the awkward situations in which I continue to find myself.  For these reasons alone, I hope that Seattle is really, truly full of nerds with whom I can identify.  We're also both SO pale!

But if Jason Segel is reading this, I'm still willing to try and make it work.  Just throwing that out there.

I'm like Buffalo Bill! But without the dress made of skin.

You know, when he's walking around (in "Silence of the Lambs" for those of you who are like WTF?!) dressed up like a woman and he's all checkin' himself out and he goes, "Would you do me?  I'd do me." Or something to that effect - don't quote me because it's been a minute since I've watched that. 

Except that was me walking around in my work clothes, checkin' myself out in the bathroom mirror at my office like, "Would you hire me?  I'd hire me."  Don't you guys do that?  No?  Oh.  Well then.

Me (to MEH):  Last night, I emailed the managing editor of Seattle Magazine about an internship there, so I'm hoping she writes me back today and sends me an application.

MEH:  "Thank the High Holy Jesus you emailed, TAB. We'd love to offer you a job!"

Me:  I would jizz my pants if she did, but I'm actually just hoping she'll let me apply for the internship.  "I will kill your enemies if you let me have this internship.  Or just fetch coffee if you want to be all 'by the books' about it."

MEH:  Ha ha.

Me:  "My point is, I'm flexible....because I took yoga and ballet and gymnastics when I was younger.  If that offends you, please forward this letter to any male editor on staff."

MEH:  lol

Me:  "Or lesbian.  Like I said, I'm flexible."
 
You guys, my cover letter is *practically* written.

Even my imaginary relationship is dysfunctional.

There is a man in my office that has, on numerous occasions, asked me out.  We've been friends for a while, but last year he "declared his intentions" to date me.  I laughed it off because, as an awkward person, I laugh when I am uncomfortable.  Sometimes even when I'm mid-make out with a cute boy.

It's a problem.

This is the only way I want to eat your heart out - in cookie form.

Anyway, to spare my coworker/friend's feelings, I told him I was dating someone.  At the time, it wasn't COMPLETELY a lie because I had my sights set on a gorgeous dish and felt that it was only a matter of time before things panned out in my favor.  So maybe I was a little over-zealous out of the starting gate, which promptly exploded Michael Bay-style right in my face and said gorgeous dish went the way of the buffalo, but I didn't feel like I needed to share that with my coworker.  Things died down.

Until he started asking me about The Boyfriend.

I did what any panicked single woman would do in that situation - I lied my dirty little face off.

"Oh, he's... you know... in the industry..." I tried to be vague at first.

"What does he do in the industry?  Is he an actor?"  Coworker asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"N-no.  He uh, he's a stunt man," I was trying to veer closer to the truth, and technically the gorgeous dish that I failed to seduce was a stunt man.

"Oh yeah?  What's his name?  How old is he?  How often does he take you out?  What does your family think?  How did you guys meet?"  Coworker was obviously not giving up easily.

Based on the level of interest expressed in my faux relationship, I frankensteined bits of my own actual relationships together and concocted an elaborate story about how The Boyfriend and I met and grew to be smitten.  I was on a roll!  My Fake Boyfriend was a gorgeous, chivalrous, intelligent and witty man and was well-liked by my family, especially EM and EM's boyfriend (my toughest critics). 

Then, I watched my coworker's face fall.  Shit.  Too far, TAB.  Coworker unfolded his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Well, if you things don't work out, you know..." He looked so crestfallen.

Feeling like the biggest asshole ever, I patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

"Oh, Coworker, you know how I am with relationships, I'm sure I'll sabotage it somehow.  I doubt it'll last."

Coworker's eyes lit up.

Shit.

So here I am, having dug myself into the grave of a pseudo-relationship with a figment of my imagination who, for the sake of Coworker, apparently fights with me all the time, but won't leave me.

This has to be a litmus of my *actual* relationship failures.

This post already makes me judge myself, so you don't need to.

Apparently William and Kate adopted a penguin at the Chelsea Zoo.  Reason #2,000,000 why I want to be a princess:  everyone lets you have ridiculous pets and no one bats an eye.  "Oh, Princess TAB has a bathtub full of sharks?  No worries, she's trying to impact depleted populations from shark finning.  It's so environmental!"

It's mornings like this that I'm reminded of something my Friend With Great Hair said about MEH and I.  "It's not that you're bad seeds, but you'll never grow into a fruitful tree."  I want that on my business cards.

Day two of my detox is going okay, though I realize now that I'm addicted to dairy.  I've been fantasizing about big, drippy ice cream cones for two solid days (yep, both days of this detox) and alternately recognizing and respecting that I could never be vegan because I would probably kill someone for even the lowliest slice of Kraft American cheese.

Freaking judgmental ice cream mofo. 

Also, hey, why did everyone hate "Sucker Punch"?  I liked it a lot.  I ask because I'm currently listening to the soundtrack and I have a hard time splitting my focus today.  Maybe it's the lack of ice cream in my diet.

I drunk text about dinosaurs, apparently.

Hey guys, I've missed you.  Sorry I've been so distant, but we both know I just do that from time to time.  It's not you, it's me.  I still love you though, and I've been (mostly) faithful to you.

So as if you didn't know, the last month or two have been pretty awful.  My family has been dealing with some difficult shiznit that I'm not really gonna go into, suffice it to say that things are on the mend (we hope).  As a result of this depressive state, EM and I have been struggling to keep our spirits afloat and may have indulged in some less than healthy habits, like eating an entire batch of cupcakes in just under two days. 

...and getting hammered while watching the replay of the royal wedding this weekend.  (Because how fucking amazing did Kate look?  I love a classy broad.)  And then discussing "wedding fever" and the upcoming nuptials of a lovely, well-to-do friend and needing to get obliterated again last night.  Monday night.  (When I say 'night' I actually mean 'afternoon')  What?!  Don't judge me like you've never gotten drunk on a weekday afternoon.  Anyway, so maybe I was the only one drinking, but EM was in the room so it's not like I was drinking alone which is for college kids and alcoholics, of which I am neither (anymore) so whatever. 

Now that you're here, uterus-deep in crazy with me, be advised that after much research (re:  googling a couple things) EM and I have decided to do this 28-day "wellness" detox thing to get the leftover cupcake cholesterol and lingering alcohol and weighty depression out of our veins and give ourselves a much-needed fresh start.  Before you start judging me again (jeez you guys need to be more accepting) know that I am not a fan of things like the so-called "master cleanse" and other stupid shit that involves eating only grapefruits and drinking horse piss or whateverthefuck.  I've opted into this shiznit because it appears to be a healthy balance of exercise and fresh fruits and veggies and limiting your intake of processed foods on a gradual basis.  As you all know, I am a fat kid trapped in a skinny kid and I love my red meat, bacon, whiskey and Guinness and holy crap, coffee, what am I going to do without you?!  Die, probably. 

Last night while I was on my way to Drunksville, I had briefly considered slowly eliminating caffeine and red meat and processed deliciousness from my diet to make the overall 'detox' thing less of a shock to my body, but then by the time I was sending vowel-less text messages about "banking on dinosaur eggs???;alsk" (yeah I don't remember wtf that was about) I decided that since I'm going to go for an entire freaking month without my delicious things, I'm going on an all-out debauchery bender this week, obviously kicked off by getting sauced yesterday and carried on by getting big fuck-off burgers for dinner.  Probably finishing that margarita mix in the fridge, too.  You know, to remove temptation.  (Detox starts this weekend, kids.)

I'll try to keep my progress update bitching minimal.