Why don’t you drop everything and run away and start an entirely new life? This is a fantasy that I have long cultivated, but you know that. It’s kind of the theme of my life. I long to escape to Romania and be a hay farmer. I want to dash to LA and work as a barista and get discovered. And today I’m dying to disappear and emerge in a beautiful village of the south of France and work in a grocery store. I would love that busy mindless job, I think. When the shift is done, you just go sit on the beach with a book. And even when you work, you’d be learning better French. Someday…


Why don’t you prepare yourself for death? I have a cold and everything is awful. I have slept most of the day. My head aches. The hair on my legs throbs. That’s weird. When I move I’d rather fall. I can barely eat. I barely drink. Making soup about put me in the grave. Who knew that chopping an onion would be so much damn work? I just put in for another sick day tomorrow. Pray for me. God, I hope I lose weight with this misery.


Why don’t you spend a thrilling day researching diet pills that you can only buy in Mexico? I’m almost completely certain I have the flu, so I’ve been bedridden for the past two days. Totally unlike me; I never get sick, you know? I mean I have multiple sclerosis but I never get a cold. Anyway, Mexican pharmacies are full of delightful diet pills. I can’t wait to try them this summer when I’m there for two months. I’m going to be so thin. And I’d much rather take a potentially risky pill than diet or exercise. I hate exercise with a passion.


Why don’t you spend your day dying of the flu watching season eight of Will & Grace. You’re seeing a pattern, I’m sure? I’ve been hella sick. But I forgot how funny that season was in particular. It was under appreciated at its time and the finale sucked balls, but the live season premiere was perfection. I was cackling and coughing and sneezing and whining and laughing and having the worst/best time. Who ever thought you could get tired of laying in bed? At least I had a choked laugh.


Why don’t you stop being a pretentious boor and get your ass to McDonald’s and have one of the best meals of your life? Stop worrying about diets. In my time on the planet, I’ve run the whole gamut of vegan to fruitarian to intermittent fasting to just not giving two hoots. It all makes me crazy, so I have decided that the only really good diet plan is moderation. I know! Who ever would have thought that the basic suggestion doctors give is right? You can treat yourself to fast food, reader. Just don’t eat it every night. Go get fries and a salad with southwest dressing and whatever else your heart desires.

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