Things I did this holiday weekend.

1. Reverted to my college days, with my college pal Shawna, and was drunk two nights in a row.

2. Sang karaoke. Oh, I love me some Reba.

3. Drank Gatorade.

4. Face planted on a hill while holding hands with Shawna, then laughed for five minutes in attempt to get up.

5. Went sledding at 1 a.m. with strangers in the park across the street.

6. Nicknamed a first year med student "Dr. David" and asked him medical advice, then told people it was his birthday so he could get free drinks. Also lied and told people he was a pediatrician.

7. Laughed.

8. Cried.

9. Decorated for Christmas.

10. Ate turkey, and stuffing, and pie.

11. Caught a cold, which makes chicken soup very necessary right now. Perhaps from all the drinking and playing in the snow?

12. Had a "rugged photo shoot" with Shawna.

13. Had a light saber battle with a three-year-old.

14. Ate chicken strips and gravy.

15. Witnessed a Christmas tree lighting.

16. Spread Christmas cheer.

17. Stayed up all night to Black Friday shop, which was a horrible idea.

18. Baked a pie, and cookies.

19. Made a paper snow flake.

20. Napped.

I just really like these shoes.

Some of my new heroes.

Go here, and be amazed. Sometimes I really love the things I randomly find on the Internet.

Everything is better with glitter.

S is for Saturday... and sweatpants.

I'm at work right now, taking a break from paperwork to write a blog, and wearing my sweatpants. There are benefits to working overtime on the weekend when no one else is here (except for the fact that someone else was here, and saw me dressed like this, which is awkward).

I'm also reading "rockstar diaries" which I am newly obsessed with, drinking coffee, and listening to Carrie Underwood. I'm really bad at working overtime, it seems. All I really want to do is curl up on my lovely purple couch, with my snuggie, and take a nap.

Last night Shawna and I had a bunch of people over for game night, and they were all discussing something that happened to one of their coworkers. It's something that recently happened to me as well, and my heart hurts for this woman. I feel like my heart shouldn't be allowed to hurt, and since our situations are different, I feel guilty for comparing our circumstances at all. But I know on some degree what she is feeling, and I wish that I could take that feeling away for her.

All I could do was sit there, in silence, and be sad inside, but not in a way that I could let other people see. Because I can't allow myself to be sad, or grieve, because I think it was my fault. And I think that no one really gets that.

It's one of those things that I don't think you can really get, until it happens. It's not something I can talk about to people, and although I've told people closest to me (and a few others, just at random), it's not something I can explain or process.

One of my coworkers learned about recent events in my life, and left me a letter in my mailbox at work. All it contained was an essay, with a note at the end that said, "I have been there. And I'm sorry."

It made me burst into tears, and we never talked about it, except when I e-mailed her and said, "Thank you. That meant more to me than you know." She wrote back. "Dude--anytime."

I think she gets it.

Probably, I need therapy. And a hug. And a nap. And my snuggie. But all I have is this stack of paperwork, and my Saturday of hanging out in my office in my sweatpants.

I'll feel better about this someday, right?

F is for Friday

So,I bought a cheap treadmill off of Craigslist. It's terribly loud, and an eyesore in my bedroom, but it works, and it will prevent me from a) sitting on the couch all winter and b) running outside in a blizzard when it starts to snow.

I'm pretty sure my treadmill is going to be my new boyfriend. We're going to spend all sorts of quality time together, and probably watch sitcoms together, and maybe I'll cheat on him with the couch, but he'll always take me back.

Maybe if I tell my coworkers that I have a new boyfriend, they'll stop trying to set me up with every single guy they meet? They don't need to know my boyfriend is a piece of exercise equipment.

I weighed myself the other day, and I cried.

Sometimes that happens.

I did squats and lunges across my bedroom to make my jeans fit today. Damn you, casual Friday!

Tomorrow I'm going to a coworker's wedding, and my date is my 50-year-old female coworker. I'm basing my outfit entirely around my hot pink stilettos. It turns out that not a lot goes with hot pink stilettos.

My life is ridiculous, and so am I.

This must be what heaven is like.

It's all about the outfit.

So, for my b-day, I was gifted a running skirt and sparkly running headband by a very dear friend.

She knows me so well.

The only reason I do anything is for the cute outfits. Fishing? Cute outfit. Hunting? Cute outfit, though orange isn't my color.

I am all about accessorizing.

I fail at blogging lately, so that's my attempt. You're welcome.

Love.

Me: (admiring the "bikini" t-shirt Robin was wearing on a re-run of How I Met Your Mother) I so want one of those shirts.

Shawna: What shirts?

Me: The one Robin is wearing.

Shawna: Oh, cool.

...

Twelve minutes later.

...

Shawna: Leslie, don't you want one of those shirts, didn't you tell me that one time?

Me: Yeah. I just told you that a few minutes ago, actually.

This is my life, people.

Hair.

Oh hey. I went blonde. I feel like my life is just ridiculous lately, so it was totally time for a new hair color.

I told Shawna last night that a year ago I never would have thought I would be blonde, have a tattoo, be 40 pounds heavier, and have gone through all the crap I went through. Life is surprising.

Oh yeah, my pants don't fit right now. Don't judge. It's been a rough few months!