Step it up
Along with humiliation, fits of tears at the sight of a lonely toothbrush, seeing couples everywhere, one of the worst things about a breakup is not being tall enough to reach the highest shelves. I’ve even considered taking an ex back just so he could come over and retrieve my winter scarves, carefully stored at the top of my closet (we were together back then, he helped).
Some girls mention this problem along with opening jars of jam, but thanks to the laws of physics I can do that by myself and here’s a tip to to those who still struggle: light one of the burners to a medium flame, hold the jar upside down – the cap facing the flame, wait for 5 seconds. It will pop open on your first try, it’s magic. But being 5’2’’, a lot is out of my reach, and I can’t grow an extra foot and a half on demand, so I bought a folding portable ladder and ever since, have recommended it to all my friends.
Sex And The City setbox
It’s only a cliche because it’s true: this show is the ultimate comfort viewing for all girls. Even though I know all the seasons almost by heart, it still makes me laugh and cry.
A stocked fridge
I don’t mean the married-with-15-kids type, in which you can find almost anything and filled with so much food it looks like the contents could feed a small nation. However, there’s nothing more annoying than being all set up on a Sunday morning, with coffee-newspaper-music and having only half an apple to munch on. Also, since my friends drop by quite often, I enjoy having something to offer.
These are my essentials:
- Bread
- Fruit, lots and lots (I’m a vegetarian, they go by quickly)
- Pasta sauce
- Cheese
- Pringles
- Peanut butter
- Strawberry jam
- Frozen pizza
- Vegetables
- Various fruit juice (always handy for making a cocktail)
- Wine
- Champagne
- Vodca
Discover the Van Gogh/Sylvia Plath inside you
If I take time off my day to share my opinion with a modicum of care on the Internet, imagine what my journals are like. Some people are ashamed of admitting of owning journals obviously I am not one of them. I have all of them, since I was 9. Although most of that idiotic self-absorbed stuff makes me cringe, it also takes me back to when they were Deep And Meaningful Insights.
Today most of my journals consist basically of sketches and bits of music, scrabbled on countless moleskines. Why moleskines? I bet Van Gogh didn’t feel he was doodling idiocies, now did he?
A fabulous and overly chatty manicurist
I don’t officially have a therapist, but I believe Lucy, fills in quite well. She might not give the wisest advices out there, but they sure are the funniest. She also knows all the gossip on celebrities and ever since I started going to her salon, I’ve developed a very unhealthy habit of logging on to tabloids websites to keep updated on the life of certain ones.
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