Make Me Love You:
Public, Part One
Public, Part Two
Private

Sometimes I think it's still 2001. It's pretty weird, seeing as how I worked for the 2002 Olympics and all.

Yeah. Weird.

Anyway, where the hell have I been? For that matter, where the hell have you been?

:::Sigh:::

You don't even want to know.

Anyway, hello to you and you and you and you and you.

And you.

Sorry about that, babies. I'm trying to be vigilant. I really am.

I will try to be better.

Anyway, I was going to tell you guys about this sign my father's wife has on their refrigerator, which says,

"Nothing tastes as good as thin feels!"

Which is funny to begin with, because when I first read it, I thought it said,

"Nothing tastes as good as things feel!"

See the difference?

So I was thinking my stepmother was pretty damned weird, possibly kinky, and most likely doing weird child endangerment things as well, my little sister being, what, six or something?

Anyway, I digress.

I want to go on record right now as saying that sign is a bunch of hooey. I'm sorry, I just have to disagree. Having gotten fat and then thin again, I have to say right here and now that thin does not begin to touch that chocolate cake at that Macaroni Grill place. Or chocolate cream puffs. Or pasta. Or hot dogs. With lots of chili and preferably slathered with cheese. I like my food slathered. Bring on the slather.

That is a silly little sign, and while I was there at my father and stepmother's house I purposely ate right at it, with intent and malice aforethought.

Besides, all around that saying on the sign were pictures of little cupcakes and bread and cookies and things and that just made me more hungry.

It was like the sign was doing that thing, that one thing where it's putting its finger right next to your arm, leaving just a teeeeeny bit of space and going, "What? I'm not touching you. What?"

Damn that little sign.

Damn it to hell!

So I've been putting on a few extra pounds here while I have been out of work, I usually do that, you know, to amuse myself or something, and so I was reading this article my mother had laying about in her house, entitled

"You CAN Tame Those Cravings!"

Excuse me.

Bullshit.

All of it. Bullshit. Because I don't know what wimp-ass cravings these people were writing about, but they were not remotely like any of the cravings that have gone sauntering past my cravings sensor.

One of the tips in the article said,

"Don't keep temptations laying around your house. You are unlikely to go searching for cookies, but if they're available, you may be powerless to stop yourself."

Who are they talking to? Because it sure as hell isn't me. You'd better believe I'd go searching for cookies. I'd sell my mother for cookies, if the situation was right and the cookies were warm and they had chocolate in them and maybe they threw in some milk too and

ooohhhh...

Wait. Where am I?

Oh yes.

Anyway, in addition, these bastards claim that cravings pass in 15 minutes, so you should be able to "wait them out."

Wait them out?!

Good Lord, that's like when the nurse told Louise to just "breathe through" one of her pushing contractions.

To put it simply,

IT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.

My cravings are like angry gods. They don't just "go away." Not until they are appeased. Nosiree bob.

You know that scene in The Odyssey where Odysseus is lashed to the mast to keep from crashing the boat into the rocks? Because of the Sirens?

Oh yeah, boy. Strap me down.

But that wouldn't work. I'd probably gnaw through my own arm anyway.

I think I have a problem.

In other news, I have been searching for a Halloween costume to no avail. Louise tired me out this past weekend looking for that red dress that does not exist anywhere except in the darkest recesses of her own mind. I want mine to be a bit simpler.

I was thinking, hey, a cat. So I'm looking online at cat costumes to get ideas.

Okay, who the hell decreed that cat costumes require a bow tie? Have you ever seen a cat wearing a bow tie? If you have, did you call the ASPCA on its owner?

Good.

There's something so uncomfortably 80's about a bow-tied cat.

There is a hell for bow-tie cat costume makers. I think I read it Dante's Inferno.

And lastly, job interviews. They're really stupid, aren't they?

Just trust me.

Planning to make amends,

-Mlle R