Everything Is Annoying

Here's a little nugget for ya: The hardest part in life is not accomplishing something, but figuring out the something you want to accomplish.

I want too much. It stymies me. So I drink a glass of wine until I calm the fuck down.

Around about now, I'm attempting to both convert to vegetarianism and become an expert on the work of Jonathan Safran Foer (young genius, and more importantly, author of only three books.) Cake.

I presumed vegetarianism would be the most difficult of the two challenges. (Have you seen The Best Thing I've Ever Eaten: with Bacon" on the Food Network?! Two words: bacon marmalade. And yet, I'll see you your bacon marmalade and raise you a bacon-maple doughnut. When WHAM!--all are trumped by a cured pig meat snow cone.)

Fact: I am a weak woman.

I decided to book a plane ticket to fly across the country and taste a bacon-chocolate dream bar, when my A.D.D. took flight and I began reading Jonathan Safran Foer's EATING ANIMALS. While reading about how "free-range" eggs are bullshit and how every animal product we eat is the byproduct of the devil, a stomach bug kicked in.

If "kicked in" makes you think "caused me to projectile hurl across my room and onto my unsuspecting, shrieking husband," you win, chicken butt.

Just one look at the EATING ANIMALS green book jacket provoked a Pavlovian puking reflex so intense that I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight within hours. (And for this, Mr. Foer, I thank you from the bottom of my blocked heart.)

Long story longer, I am now a vegetarian who will never be able to read Jonathan Safran Foer again.

In other news, my kooky hairdresser just called to tell me that she is now working out of her house.