Seriously, I have no idea what’s wrong with Amanda Bynes. I’m assuming there is, otherwise there wouldn’t be half the hubbub bubbling up. Is this ignorance, plain and simple? Or is it a lack of information my brain actually needs? I could well follow the TMZ/Twitter train and allocate some headspace to this knowledge, or I could blissfully dismiss it, along with my lack of fear of ebola. Is that also ignorant? A friend (an ex-girlfriend actually. I don’t know if I’m allowed to use that word yet. It’s hard knowing what she thinks on non-ebola subjects now) was saying that its spread to America unnerves her more than it should. If it spreads to Toronto she’s considering going full doomsday preppers and finding a remote cabin somewhere with bottled water and anti-ebola zombie pickaxes. She actually has acute medical knowledge (studying to be an ultrasound technician will do that to you), so once again I’m the one coming off without a clue. It still seems more like a fear-mongering media tactic to raise sales without heightening awareness of the actual predicated epidemic spread or how concerned we really should be. This all comes straight from my ass, no insider knowledge coming out here. Or maybe I’ve just been inoculated from worry by sensory overload. Too many things to do and see to worry about viral outbreaks.
I guess I kind of buried the lede on that ex-girlfriend thing. Who am I to gloss over the fact that I hung out with my ex and her boyfriend? She shoots a bunch of gigs for the same site, so our paths cross every now and then. If it’s an especially small, intimate venue then it’s hard not to say hi. This is coming off like I have a problem with her, or that it’s super uncomfortable, either of which couldn’t be further from the truth. The only awkward thing is I don’t know how to approach things. I broke things off, so if she’s happy now, then that’s choice. Her boyfriend seems like a swell bloke and they have fun together which, yet again, makes me happy. I have no interest in rekindling romantic things whatsoever, but that doesn’t stop her from being an incredibly cool and interesting person whose sense of humour complimented mine pretty well. Seems like the basis for a decent friendship. She indicated she’d be happy for that to be a thing, she offered chances for us to hang out, during which times I’d already had other plans. I reciprocated and never got much of a response. So at the moment it seems like we’re two people confused about how we’re supposed to navigate whatever semblance of a friendship we’re capable of. Two things that may have slipped out from our conversation (unless I read them wrong) is that she was always worried about my drinking and that I may have put on weight since she last saw me. Well fuck, Emily.
Both of which would be fair assessments. I’m sure if she implied them, they weren’t implied with malice or menace. JFL42 didn’t do me wonders and neither has surrounding myself with delicious treats all day. Because I don’t know the meaning of moderation and don’t want to diminish myself by having to look it up on the net, I’m striking out cold turkey. This month, the most exciting month of all, I’m doing no coffee, no baked goods. I haven’t worked out the alcohol thing. Thanksgiving I could do without alcohol. My flatwarming I could do without alcohol. Halloween I could do without alcohol. Harmontown, however, is something I’m not sure I want to approach utterly sober. If there’s even a miniscule chance I’d interact with Dan Harmon, I think I’d be inhibited without liquid courage. Hiding my many inadequacies and insecurities under a cool blanket of vodka seems the only way I’d be able to have any useful exchange with my prime subject of idolatry. Yet aren’t I saying alcohol is potentially problematic? The easy answer is to say no to everything, but I’m sure I’ve got endless justifications as to why a few days of drinking in the month would be fine. Am I to restrict drinking to maximum one day per week? Or is that just a path to encouraging binge drinking? If I’m half concerned about how much I imbibe and so is an ex girlfriend who has no good reason to care about my current well-being, maybe that’s a sign I’d do better without. Then again, I don’t think I’m a monster or anything. Who am I, Amanda Bynes?
That was some pretty sick pandering. Maybe I do have ebola after all.