So, wow. A lot of people have stopped by in the last two days. Lots and lots and lots. It seems as if Hot Thick Chick has quite a readership that moseyed on over. I’m kind of intimidated. I feel like there’s a lot of pressure to be funny, and perhaps not quite as whiny as I was yesterday.

So, ha ha ha! (You can tell I’m leading into something funny, can’t you?)

Crap. I feel like I’m back in my Freshman speech class, staring out at a sea of hung-over, bored, contemptuous Juniors, wondering why the hell I was in Advanced speech, and why it never occurred to me that it would involve speaking. I’m frozen and a bit nauseated. And you’ve all probably gone away already, on to greener pastures.

Wait! Don’t go! I can be amusing! Have a martini with me. We’ll shop for shoes and dish about celebrity gossip. We can go running, if you want. And, if you come back tomorrow, there will be shoe porn!

Now I’m going to pretend no one is reading and just ramble on about my life.

So, I had a Diet Coke yesterday. You may not know this about me, but the two biggest vices I’ve ever had in my life are/were smoking (cigarettes) and Diet Coke. I quit smoking, and although I have one every once in a while (always appropriate for special occasions), the quitting of the Diet Coke was much, much harder. However, I’ve had decent success now, and think I’m almost as good at quitting the DC as I am at quitting smoking. So, yesterday kinda sucked. And I had a Diet Coke (and I originally typed that Deity Coke, which is scary). And it was good. It was just one.

I just had another Diet Coke. It’s like crack. Seriously. Except, it’s probably not really like crack – I’m not sure. I’ve never really had crack. So, no more Diet Coke this week. Possibly not even this month – unless it’s hanging out with some rum.

So, in conclusion. I am not funny. I am kinda weird and paranoid. I talk about drinking and running a lot. Also shoes.

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