I quit smoking yesterday. In the words of
Ze Frank, "I haven't smoked [...] And nothing feels good."
In addition, I have decided that it's time to quit fucking around re: any sort of exercise regimen I am willing to implement and actually get down to brass tacks. Getting down to brass tacks thus far has meant eating oatmeal instead of toaster waffles for breakfast, and not giving in to the urge to consume an entire package of saltines.
Needless to say, thus deprived, my brain's dopamine receptors are ill-at-ease. As I speak, they are planning a riot that will leave me angry and irritable. Being fit, healthy and beautiful is hard work. Much harder work than I've ever wanted to attempt thus far, but I figure it's not completely intangible. It will also decrease the need for the wave of guilt concerning my laziness every time I see someone cute and wish I was her. It's all very kind and sweet of the people I know to tell me I am goodlooking, but I could be so much better.
I have an interview today, for a serving post. While it will drastically cut into my free time and my ability to do impulsive things like fly to Chicago on a whim, I will be making mad enough cash not to fear eviction.