I've Been Stress-Eating Jewish Hotdogs

About two weeks ago, I had an epiphany: if I want success, I must envision my successful lifestyle.  I decided that the perfect way to see myself as financially successful is to test-drive a Jaguar  (please see my Mid-Life Crisis post).  It is my firm belief that if I drive a Jaguar (read: my future Jaguar), it will instill in me ambition, entitlement and resolve.  It will!  How can I know what I want (what I have wanted since I was 14) without ever actually experiencing a taste of what it would be like?

My new car

So I was grooving along imagining my future abundant in material goods, when Phinny had to go and start Kindergarten and f it all up.  Suddenly, all the focus is on her, and I'm left obsessing over her each and every comfort.  She's having what they call a "hard time adjusting" and I'm having what they call a "hamburger sized Klonopin" to deal with her stress.

Also, I am eating hot dogs a lot.  Before you get all "Eeeew!", know this:  they're not the Eyeballs-and-Assholes brand of hotdogs.  They're Hebrew National.  You know the Jews wouldn't be sitting there eating the eyeballs and assholes, so relax.  But still, they feel indulgent.  Like, I was having a stress attack last night and I straight up microwaved that little bitch until it was dripping with greasy salt water and then just ate it directly off the plate with my bare hands.  That is the kind of stress we are dealing with here.

So, sure enough, after cramming my pie-hole with responsible hotdog, I began to feel better.  I drifted into my fantasy about the Jaguar again and took comfort in knowing that, yes, Phinny might have a nervous breakdown, but she'll recover, and then we can all roll up to Whole Foods together in my bitchin' ride.  (Naturally it will be fitted with a custom-made device that administers a harmless electrical shock if their feet so much as graze the back of the seat.)

And then what happens?!  I have a dream last night about Living With Less.  Yes!  So rude, right?!  My jerk of a brain gives me this whole lecture in the form of a dream about having to move to this tiny, tiny plot of land next to a rundown "Title and Loans" joint.  I'm sitting in my dream before a panel of experts from the city and they're grilling me on why and how I plan to live smaller, materially, and yet larger in my heart.  I was all, "I'll get a Japanese architect!  Why is this happening to me?!"

And so this post comes to a close with no discernible theme, except for blah blah some shit about achieving an understanding about the things that truly matter et etc whatever.

I'll just say this to the universe: I goddamn well understand what truly matters and I have every intention of moving through this life with intention, reverence and joy.  ALL WHAT SHIT WOULD BE EASIER IF I HAD A JAGUAR.

The End

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