camouflage

There are a trillion -- or at least 3-7 -- things I wish to discuss, but I am "hella" distracted. There are three men in University of Utah beanies and camouflage jackets digging right outside my window. All I see is dirt. Dirt and school spirit. What is going on? Why are they doing this? Who did I offend? I must have pissed off (that's French for "offended") someone at some point and they said, "You know what? I'm going to send three men in beanies and oddly attractive camouflage jackets to your house riiiiight when you want to start writing. It will be a distraction! You will not remember the 3-7 things you wish to discuss! I hate you, but I also love you so much. Please marry me. I will make this up to you." Well, guess what? I don't feel like getting married, especially not to such a reactionary person.

Anyway. My apartment. I know I've been meaning to discuss/vent about that. In no way has my new home exceeded my expectations. In fact, it has helped me to cry myself asleep on a handful of occasions. I've also had to pound on the ceiling when the video games upstairs get too loud (at least 6 nights a week), so that's fun. At least I'm becoming more assertive? And used to the showers at the gym. Have I mentioned that I have to shower at the gym a lot? Because there is a troll living under the house or something and he (she? they?) keep messing with the pipes. Ohhhh... So maybe that's what these three handsome camouflaged gentlemen are doing... They are fixing the pipes? Making a deal with the troll? Answering three riddles? Trolls don't ask riddles, it's wizards. Trolls trick people. And clog shower drains.

Okay, I'm beginning to remember the 3-7 things I wish to discuss. That's what happens when you chill out and ignore the troll outside your window. I wish to discuss my coworkers. OH BUT I CAN'T. I mean, I can, but I shouldn't. Not that they read my blog... Yes, I did post a link to this creepy blog on my Facebook, and yes, I am Facebook pals with most of my coworkers, but let it be known that they do not give one shit about me. If any of them read this blog, I promise to donate 3-7 trillion dollars to Trump's campaign. Hey, coworkers, wanna make America great again? Read my blog.

As always, I wish to discuss food issues and body image issues and issues about having issues. It is, and forever will be, an ongoing battle. Where is my sword? Would a sword even help? Maybe I need a troll. A troll to trick my eating disorder into disappearing without a trace. Things have been better, though. I am beginning to replace some of my negative habits, routines, and thoughts with slightly more productive and healthy activities, such as writing and buying a crap ton of crystals. Right on, Meggie. Keep it up.

Okay, so I have sort of discussed three things. That's good enough for now. It has to be good enough for now because I have to go back to work. My coworkers at Rowland are all pretty topnotch, even if they fail to read this fantastic masterpiece blog. That's alright, I'll forgive you... But only if you can answer these three riddles...