Now I know

I have a new favorite thing (I know it’s hard to keep up): after-the-fact rejection letters; like for jobs that I had literally forgotten that I applied for. For example, apparently I applied for a job at Macmillion and months, probably fucking years, later I got an email saying it wasn’t going to work out. Like yeah, thanks I gathered that.

The great thing about law firms is that you get an extra special letter on their stationary in the mail, like an invitation, or love letter, but it’s the opposite. And, on the top of the paper, the masthead has at least 5 million names for all of the partners. It’s like they wanted to specifically point out that these people are winners and you are not.

What exactly am I supposed to do with this new and valuable information? Write them back?

Hey guys!

Thanks for the note!! I like never ever get mail so when I finally saw an envelope with my name on it I got super excited.

The truth is that, for the past ten months, I have just been waiting to hear from you, turning away millions of jobs in anticipation. I carry my phone with me everywhere like someone waiting for their non-committal boyfriend to call. Not only am I super fucking prepared for my mom to call for the hundredth time, but I would could have answered your call on the first ring if necessary. It's true I wouldn't never have considered waiting for the second ring so you think I have a life--because we both know I don't! HAHA

I am so glad you finally got in touch with me. It was pretty awesome to see what your stationary looks like because I really couldn't fathom what it could possibly have even resembled. Now I know. YES.

Love always,

Antonia

PS: Have you heard the new song by Rihanna? I totes love it.

Hahaha

Before I went to boarding school I got an email from my new roommate, just checking in saying hello etc...It read sort of like this:

Hey!!!!!! How are you?!!!!!! I am SOOO excited to room with you!!!! What do you want to bring?!!!

I was like genuinely concerned about her levels of enthusiasm. Can you imagine talking to someone who actually speaks like every sentence is the best thing in the whole wide world? (or like they are absolutely doing coke).

To be honest though, I’ve started using a total excess of ! and also “Haha,” like everything I read is the fucking funniest and most excited thing EVER “Are you going out tonight?” “Yeah, haha” Why the haha? I have no idea. It’s not like anything is funny about the exchange AT ALL. Even though it’s put in so my sarcastic comments aren’t interpreted as serious, I just sound fucking crazy. “See you soon, hahaha” Hahaha? Is it a joke? No, I really will see you soon but I thought I just wanted to throw that in. Sometimes I try to abbreviate it with just a “ha” so it's not as bad, but really it is.

Actually fat, not "girl fat"

Sorry it’s been awhile; I’ve been very busy. Haha nope I haven’t, you’re right, I’ve just been lazy. Speaking of lazy, I have come to the conclusion that I will only eat stuff if it’s in a wrapper and I can eat it right away. Make a salad? No way. Use the stove and a combination of different ingredients to make a meal? Absolutely not. Open a Luna bar? Yup, done.

I guess it’s fine when it’s a protein bar but when I was abroad and I was fat—like actually fat, not "girl fat"—I would do it with king size chocolate bars. I think king size is probably and understatement: they were like family size bars for Mormons. So I would go to the little grocery store two blocks away and buy two motherships and it’s not like I was buying extra to save for later, or for the rest of the week: I bought two so I could eat one on the way home.

When my sister came home from school in Scotland, she brought me back some Galaxy bars and, since I live with my parents, my mom gets to regulate my chocolate intake because I have no self control and it’s not my choice what I eat. So I ate one bar pretty quickly and then my mom hid the other one. It was the worst because she told me that actually she had eaten it and it was gone. She finally revealed that it was hidden in the fridge, and I spent five minutes searching. That should be a sign. STOP.

(Note: I found this picture on a website called poundland.com)