i'm not crazy, i don't do crazy things. and it's not often that i like to pretend i'm crazy, so when i was sitting in a booth at Applebee's last night with Linds, aside from myself, i ordered a Cosmo thinking a Cosmo would go great with a crazy person. not as great as a gin & tonic or even Cognac on the rocks i would suppose, but i sort of declared that if i'm going to be crazy, my kind of crazy is Cosmopolitan. at first i found myself making a conscious effort to ignore the taste of cheap vodka but the deeper i got into Liquid Pink, the cheap vodka wasn't the subject of being ignored, but instead it was doing the ignoring. i held back nothing and Linds encouraged my trite proclamations. the scene began as a harmless cousin to a Sex and the City episode, but that's where the relations ended. the texts that filled our phone inboxes is the only thing that kept me from slinking further down into my gap of a seat. we were sure the time had expired on our parking meter, the city's son of a bitch parking meters. i consoled myself with 'nothing gets past me' (something i can actually thank my mother for). and although this is true, i used it as some sort of inspirational device, as if i had to talk myself into the idea.

i needed no excuse. i needed no sympathy. i'm completely at fault and for that reason alone is why time and time again i'm in related situations like the one i experienced last night. so if i felt like acting out (wishing i had) the bitchiest moment of my life, i definitely felt like i needed no reason. luckily (sadly, pitifully, forlornly, tragically, and miserably) for me, i had all the reason in the world.