Back to (relative) normalcy.

Okay. Enough about the fuckwit. It's been a week. I can stop talking about him. I'm driving myself mad. Besides, I think it's high time to exercise that wonderful notion put forth by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and practice some forgetting (forgetting, since I'm not about to get a lobotomy anytime soon). Besides, my kindergarten teacher first noted it when I was the tender age of five - I have this marvelous ability to quickly forget unpleasantries. My father says it's a sign of someone too into denial, that it's not healthy and that if I choose to forget, I'll never learn anything and just repeat history; I say it's a great form of self-preservation and far better than dwelling. So all his information has been erased from my cellular, its SIM card, my palm and my laptop and I've sent an email off to my roommate in Cambridge asking him to remove all offending photos from their frames and albums (I am nothing if not thorough) - thus let the forgetting begin. (And many thanks for the kind thoughts, and words of support. I'd also like to direct everyone's attention to the virtual voodoo doll. There are great sound effects. And you can email your pin-studded voodoo doll to whomever you wish. It is oddly satisfying. Whee!)

Of course, that leads me with a dearth of things to post about. Here are things I considered, but couldn't develop any into a full post without being overly repetitive:

Posting pictures of my dog, Yuki, a very lazy and (I think) depressed akita. What the hell. Here's a baby picture of her, taken 7 years ago. She is much bigger now.

Posting pictures of my tan line, to make everyone jealous. If there is one thing in life I work really hard at, and am never willing to procrastinate on, it's my tan. What does that make me? Shallow? Nooo.. but it warms my heart to know that I'm dedicated to something, at least.

Contemplating whether or not it would still be okay to email fuckwit's mom for career advice. Really, I liked his family a lot. One of the hardest parts of this breakup is that I won't get to talk to/see them any longer. His father is a riot, his sister a sweetheart and his mother - well, mothers are always intimidating, but she was always so nice. Also, she's rather well-known in my future field of study, and she'd been such a help so far helping me figure out what I want to do and getting me in touch with the right people that it's a shame that I'd lose her even though I'm not dating him any longer. Did I mention that I hope they tell him he's being an absolute moron? Ah, it'd be nice. Good thing we didn't share friends, except for his roommate, whom I'll email when we're both back in Cambridge.

Writing the latest update on Brooke's wedding, but thinking of it gives me a headache. Suffice it to say that on top of paying for the dress, alterations, appropriate supportive undergarments, shoes, bachelorette party (which true, was mostly paid for by Katie's parents, thankfully) and with expected expenses of the bridal shower, bridal shower present, wedding present and a visit to the salon for the requisite mani/pedi and updo, the maid of honor thinks that we should buy Brooke a bridesmaid's luncheon present. Why? I've already spent so much money on this wedding; I'd like to have some left to myself so that I can go on (okay, dream about) my expensive handbag binge. (Given my recent budget, I'd probably have to settle for this or this, which isn't too shabby either.)

Posting the email I got from cute British guy, which basically affirms the fact that a year later, he still has a crush on me. Good to know I've still got it. (Ooh, just wait 'til Nick and shithead find out I'm single again. That'll be great for the ego.) Too bad I want his younger brother, who just finished his JD/MBA and is smokin' hot AND lives in New York City. However, I don't quite know how to broach that particular subject.

I'm sorry if I'm suddenly boring again. But one can only take so much drama. Give me a couple of weeks or so. I'm sure I'll come up with something by then. After all, I am off to Vegas in fifteen days, where Kevin has said he can't wait to "see [me] slut it up some," as apparently my last two years dating fuckwit hadn't resulted in any fun and crazy stories for Kevin. Go Kevin! Always knows what to say to make a girl feel good.