Thursday, October 26, 2006

TheBreakup Diaries: Day 7

Well, it has been 1 week since I got dumped/devastated/tossed aside like a K-Fed CD. How am I holding up?

Well, I thought I had turned a corner. Less cry and more rage. There were 2 great days of rage: I ran my little wounded heart out at the gym (“take that, motherfucking treadmill!! RAGE!”), ate my neglected little stomach full of fries (take that, motherfucking fries!! RAGE!”), and added friends to facebook with the intensity of a woman on a ‘roid/speed cocktail (“take that, motherfucking facebook!! RAGE!”).

But then today…there were a few minor setbacks. Luckily my various friends and devoted babysitters took care of me…I love you bitches. And I promise I’ll stop telling you all that I love you and making you feel awkward and uncomfortable real soon, ha. (lies…I won’t stop).

I started feeling antsy around 1pm. I had to get the fuck out of my office. And possibly eat something deepfried or grilled or, if possible, both. Frances took me to a restaurant that specialized in foods that clog your heart-valves and we sat in a dark corner where no one would see or judge us. We stayed in flavour country for a good 2 hours, dipping deepfried foods in various sauces and moaning in pleasure. We got sauce on our faces, we dropped shit, we swore and laughed…it was beautiful. Not hot, but definitely beautiful. Frances told me the best thing I had heard in a long time…

She also has experience dating the Jews. Like me, she is inexplicably attracted to mens of the Jewish faith. We can’t explain it. It’s not the money stereotype (FauxHawk was far from a trust fund baby), so don’t try to pull that shit on me. But anyway, Frances had recently been dating a Jew of her own. Then he broke up with her. She was unimpressed. So unimpressed, that she grabbed the first thing she could reach and threw it at him as hard as she could. The object she happened to throw? A rosary.

Frances threw a rosary at a Jew when he broke up with her. A fucking rosary! Oh my god, why didn’t I think of that?! Oh right, because if I owned anything religious God would probably burn my house down and then send wild monkeys to urinate on it afterwards just to make sure all the evil was gone. But still….man, that’s good. My reaction?

ThePeach: Did the rosary hit him?!
Frances: Yep.
ThePeach: *gets excited* In the face!!?
Frances: In the heart.
ThePeach: YES! YES! Hey, can we order more sour cream?

So, lunch was a success. Then I got home and cradled my bloated belly until it was time for Yoga with TheHippie. We hadn’t been to Yoga in a while so I was even less bendy than usual. Plus I kept looking over my shoulder to see if FauxHawk was in the gym. I was fucking terrified the whole time that I’d look over my shoulder as I was in some contorted and painful position and spot him running on a treadmill behind me. I’d really rather not shit my pants in yoga. Or ever. But luckily I didn’t spot him. I had a minor breakdown during the 10 minutes of meditation at the end of class. You’re supposed to clear your head and let your body relax and all that other homosexual granola bullshit. When I try to clear my head and relax I start thinking about my broken, broken heart. This is why I have been running around like an adrenaline junkie all week. So, guess what happened in Yoga? Crying. Crying during meditation. Luckily I was quiet and none of the lesbians tried to comfort me.

After that fiasco I came home and ate soup that Cleavage had made me. God bless Cleavage and her beautiful, nourishing soup. I’ve been living off it for 3 days. That and apparently deepfry. My friend TheCorporate stopped by with a Breakup Survival Kit containing:

1. A 2L bottle of wine.
2. A tube of cookie dough.
3. A Sex and the City DVD.
4. A Porno Magazine.

She knows me so well!!! After she left I had a very pitiful cry where I actually said the words “*sob* I’m just so exhausted, oh god*sob*” out loud. To myself. I hate heartbroken Peach. I want to punch myself in the box for being such a loser. Luckily QueenB called and made me feel better.

Anyway, that was day 7. I made it 1 week sans Hawk. There have been horribly horribly shitty days and not so bad days. Days where I made my MasterCard sweat and days where I made my cat hug me. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. For your sake, I hope it’s hilarious.

For my sake, I hope it’s a Trampage.


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