So, to anybody who still reads this blog, which does not even include myself, I wanted to come back with a comeback. So, I have been dealing with lots of depression, anxiety, and anorexia. Okay, so that's not funny, but it sort of is, since those who know me also know how much I love food and used to eat butter plain and half and half in my Rice Krispies.
Anyways, I figured out Los Angeles is really bad for the body and soul. For example, take my gym. I see the same people there every day, working out like crazy, at least one of which I can tell is anorexic/exercise bulimic (Stairmasters-Bony-Girl-with-Newspaper). I take some pilates and yoga classes, and this fobby Asian woman in my class asks me if I'm gonna stay for the next class. "No, one is enough for me." "Only one? I take two. I used to take three a day, but then I go eat like horse. Two good." Is this whole city disordered?
In another incident, I must say the number of black men that hit on me lately is waaaay down. They liked me much better with some curves. But at my gym, this black guy always hits on me with the line, "I love the tiny legs in those grey pants. I need to get to your size." Mind you, this is a former NBA player telling me he wants to be a woman's size zero. Again, only in LA.
Then take Whole Foods. This guy who works there asks me out by asking if I like to run stairs. Ummmmm. Do I LIKE to run them? No. Does anybody LIKE to run stairs???? I feel like i'm taking crazy pills.
Then at the farmers' market, two women to guy selling bread: "Oooh, we don't eat bread! No carbs!!!!" I spot them two seconds later buying cake and pita chips from another vendor.
So you see, recovery in this city is a bit difficult because apparently disordered eating and body image are NORMAL here. Here's to hopefully eating plain butter again soon without regrets!

Oh customer service oriented jobs, how I love thee. So right now I have two waitressing/food-oriented jobs. And the customers, what beautiful people they all are. One 85 year old regular customer of mine was nonchalantly slurping on his broiled chicken dinner/flirting with me/telling me about love poems he writes where "love conquers all" when suddenly he breaks into a talk about politics. He asks me if I caught Obama fever. Due to my general disillusionment with life and mild yet constant depression I don't usually get overly excited about anything, so I tell him that I didn't catch a fever per se but I did want him to win the election. He then nonchalantly tells me, still slurping his chicken dinner, that if Obama is the antichrist we would never know it because no phlegbotomist could draw his blood because Obama would know ahead of time and kill said phlegbotomist so nobody wants to even think about drawing his blood to check if he's the antichrist lest they get killed by Obama. Hmm, I say, nodding, how is everything tasting today? Fine, he responds. I go to check on my other tables, one of which is a blind woman who is getting pretty drunk off Cabernet Sauvignon. I read her the menu but I leave off some parts because it would take forever to read the whole thing. However the blind woman uses her sixth sense to uncover the fact that I am leaving out bits of the menu. She asks me: What, no salads? Yes, there are salads, I reply. I never thought she would want a salad of all things with her red wine and now I just feel like a bitch for not telling the blind woman about the fresh and healthy options available to her. Tell me about the salads, she says, getting drunker. I tell her the salads minus one or two that I forget. What, no Cobb salad?, she asks. Yes, there is a Cobb salad, I forgot about that one. She orders the hot beef dinner and another glass of wine. At the end of the night I have to walk her to the bus stop. I'm not sure if I left her at the right one but I'm pretty sure she found her way cuz the next night she wasn't there anymore. Another customer walks in and sits at the counter. He tells me the new owner is stupid and that we are going to close in one month tops. He's stupid, STUPID, he insists. Who upholsters chairs TWO times? What a WASTE, he shouts. Then he takes out a twenty dollar bill and puts it on the table. Just checking if I have enough, he tells me. He orders, eats his food quickly and voraciously. Pays with the twenty, then counts out fifty pennies in front of me for my tip. The other waitress tells me he has never tipped before so I guess I should be flattered. Then he goes to the bathroom. When he gets out, he sits in another location, as if he never ate his first meal. He orders dessert in his new location, pays with another twenty. This time he tips me a dollar. Finally he leaves but comes back a third time to tell me we are going to close in a month, the owner is stupid, and when do we close on weekdays? I see the 85 year old giving me flirt eyes from across the way. I think I am getting a fever, I think, as I refill his coffee cup and watch the antichrist on TV.

Heyyyyyy everyone! So, ummmmm, now that my little hissy-fit has run its course, let's be friends again! I could lie to you, my .75 loyal reader, but let's be honest. I have been busy. Real busy. Reverting to childhood. Living in denial. Crawling into a little cute ball of fetal mass and attaching myself to the womb again (with bakery tape and dried out Elmer's). You see, when I started this blog, way back in 06, I had a job. I drove to and fro this job with a car. From my own apartment. I had health insurance. I didn't let pieces of my tooth fall out in a rotting mess and decide that instead of a filling I would plug the hole with today's lunch particles, cuz back then I had dental insurance! Now, of course I hated my shitty job, and my car was always breaking, but now, NOW my friend (s?) I have none of that. I have taken a 95% pay cut to work at a bakery and make $9.50 an hour despite having a bachelor's degree and a teaching credential. My car has been sitting in a driveway (not my own, silly, I don't have a driveway! driveways are for people who have HOUSES, or even APARTMENTS of their own!) for months. I lost my driver's license and never bothered to replace it. I live in my dad's apartment in a room filled with my sister's stuff, with all my shit still in boxes. My coffee table, once lovingly acquired from Craigslist and proudly displayed in my own apartment, now serves as a parking spot for my dad's bicycle. Yes, a bicycle sits on top of my coffee table. I have no insurance of any kind. So, .75 loyal reader, I have been busy. Busy living like a homeless person/child/bakery bitch/stripper who makes no income so can't afford breast implants but can't make an income cuz she ain't got no breast implants/fetus. But I am back ,lady and gentleman. Back amidst my busy schedule of jack shit to bring you more of...jack shit. Missed you!

I just want to let all of you know that it's okay to comment on my blogs. Even if one person already commented, there's room for more. I swear the comment box won't explode. Unless there's upwards of 5 comments, because, well, I just can't guarantee lack of explosion, because, well, it hasn't happened yet!!! Oh how I hear the wind whistling through the trees...Thank you all 3 devoted readers, thank you for your undying support. Your comments are my US Weekly, and I thank you for that because it saves me the $1.75 to purchase an issue.

There is a funny thing about the bakery where I work. Almost the first day when I started working, and the ERBs (Elderly Russian Bakewomen)-not to be confused with HRUBBMs (Hot Russian Underage/Barely Legal Boy Men)- began to train me, they insisted on letting me know that nothing in the entire bakery had lemon in it.
"What about this yellow-"
"NOT lemon!!!" they quickly interuppted me. "Iz pineapple!"
Whenever a customer orders a lemon danish or insinuates lemonity in any way, the ERBs hastily cut them off.
"NOT lemon! No lemon in diz bak'ry! Iz pineapple" they proclaim in their AOMT (Accent of Mother Tongue). However-as one former bakery employee astutely observed-almost everything in the bakery TASTES like lemon in some form or another. I mean, almost everything is GOOD, but now more than ever I am noticing a lemony tint to all the things I try. Whenever a customer asks me what something tastes like, or if something is good, I just want to smile sweetly and scream "LEMON!!!!!! ALL LEMON!!!!!" But then that would make me an OOWFBB now, wouldn't it? Guesses on final acronym welcome, and I expect all 1 replie(s) to be close to perfect or I will send you to Stalingrad. Da?

Hey folks, as I said, so shall I deliver...the first of the Yahoo Answers extravaganzas, copied and pasted for your enjoyment, inspired by a Google search for an upcoming art project of mine. THe original question and subsequent answers have been put in bold print by me to make it easier to read, but I have changed no words at all. Human nature speaks for itself. Enjoy!!!

Do ants eat your underwear?
sometimes i find my underwear covered in ants and then holes in them afterwards are the ants really eating them?


Best Answer - Chosen by Voters
Yes ANTs can eat your underpants. This is true if your blood sugar is high and usually these are firsts signs of being diabetic. Your urine left overs in your undies invite ants and ants would go to it sensing that there are high sugar content. !!

You better check your sugar level !!!!
8 months ago
100% 1 Vote



Other Answers (12) Show: All Answers Oldest to Newest Newest to Oldest Rated Highest to Lowest

by .:Nahira... Member since:
December 03, 2006
You need to clean your house and buy new underwear.
8 months ago
0% 0 Votes 1 Rating


by Pencil Member since:
August 21, 2006
No but the underpants gnomes take them sometimes..
8 months ago
0% 0 Votes 0 Rating:


by islander... Member since:
June 23, 2006
Yes. And so do Uncles.
8 months ago
0% 0 Votes 0 Rating:


by Melissa C Member since:
September 29, 2006
Sounds like you need to do some washing and clean the house. Sounds like poor hygiene to me if thats happening.
8 months ago
0% 0 Votes 0 Rating:


by PLANETNA... Member since:
February 20, 2006
I dont know but it could be possible, I mean they eat everything else right?
8 months ago
0% 0 Votes 0 Rating:


by Clint E Member since:
September 02, 2007
so thats where my underwear goes
8 months ago
0% 0 Votes 0 Rating:


by KG5 Member since:
June 30, 2007
nope, not unless its count chocula flavored muhahaha lol
8 months ago
0% 0 Votes 0 Rating:


by MONOCROM... Member since:
October 30, 2007
those are some crazzed ants...
8 months ago
0% 0 Votes 0 Rating


by Boise State Econ. Student Member since:
October 31, 2007
no
8 months ago
0% 0 Votes 0 Rating:


by Dr. Mojo M Member since:
September 04, 2006
Hi,

The ants eats your underwear only if you have diabetes. Pl. get check up done for diabetes.

Enjoy Life
8 months ago
Source(s):
Medical Expert
0% 0 Votes 1 Rating:


by ms.yvonn... Member since:
April 16, 2007
What ?!
8 months ago
Source(s):
yvonni
0% 0 Votes 2 Rating


by freya vida Member since:
March 12, 2007
One time i find mine with some ants, i remember i eat so many chocolate the day before. im not diabetic but if the body cant breakdown to many sugar it tend to secreat it by urine or by sweat. That is why your underwear have ants.

I just need to tell everyone in the world out there that does not already know that I LOVE THE RUSSIAN ISRAELIS. Something about their hard work ethic combined with their sexy Russian-ness and beady eyes makes me want to quit my day job (when I have one) and scream DAH! DAH! DAH! Oh those borscht-eating women-pleasing Communist-loving men. How I love stereotyping thee for my own sexual gratification.