my #streamteam april

I endured April. I didn't enjoy it much. I think there were a few Saturdays where I got red-faced tipsy and hugged my friends and husband but otherwise, my plate was FULL of nonsense that kept me apart from my beloved Netflix.

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my #streamteam february

When I was 10 years old I only needed a few things to make me ridiculously happy: very high crunchy bangs, Babysitter's Club books, strawberry fruit roll ups, my brother to not look at me, a large clear bag of gummy 7-11 5 cent candy, Guess jeans pegged at the ankle and the latest issues of Bop, Big Bopper and Teen Beat.

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my #streamteam january

It's a NEW YEAR. Someone really needs to add a holiday to January though. Or hire it a new PR Rep. Currently January means REFRAIN. That's a terrible slogan.

Since it's the adult thing to do, I must roll with everyone around me. The herd is sprinting and I gotta keep up. If I'm at the back, stumbling around, covered in Doritos crumbs and yesterday's socks, I will be picked off by life and mounted as a cautionary tale: The Woman Who Thought December Was Eternal And Now Cannot Even Fit Into Her Maternity Underwear.

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i have a history of passing out

I was a hearty kid.

A stocky kid.

A kid with an iron gut and properly screwed on head. I would have made a fine pioneer.

Then puberty happened and I was transformed into a fragile cluster of bones and meat and organs that couldn’t handle certain foods, temperatures or stressful situations. Thus started my long and storied tradition of passing the fuck out.

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