This is one of those books that I feel like I shouldn't want to read, but I do.
Friends, the holidays, they are over. At long last we can all put our feet up, heave a great sigh, and continue eating everything in the world at the same disgusting breakneck speed we have been the whole month of December, until our jeans don't fit and we're all like, "hey what happened?? Must of shrunk in the wash!"
It's not like I'm a stranger to stress eating, so I give myself leave to slight expansion during the winter months. Besides, I need that body fat, right? These vital organs ain't gonna insulate themselves, and I live in Allston, where the buildings are not handicap friendly and are heating by chance and whimsy alone. Maybe you freeze, maybe it's a sauna, you never know. You pray to the great Building Manager in the sky and go to bed in eight layers of pajamas and a stocking cap and you hold on for dear life.
Lets get serious here, January sucks. So does February, and March. April truly is the cruelest month, also known as the rainy season. Winter is the worst, you guys, there's no way around it. Nobody wants to have to blow-dry their wet hair every day because it will freeze on their walk to work if they don't, nobody asks for that. It just is. If you're from Massachusetts or somewhere that has an equal or greater winter experience, then you're used to it. If you're not, I'm so sorry, it's debatable as to whether you'll survive.
However. January 22nd is our store party. 30 Rock returns to NBC this month, and on January 27th, 1988, a sweet little baby angel was born unto this world, the likes of which had never been seen before. Cherubs gathered her in their swaddling blankets and bore her forth unto her mothers breast, where they surrounded her with the dulcet tones of their chorus. Lo, that baby was...............me. Yeah that's right, this month I turn 24 years old, so don't panic. There is still something to celebrate. Keep your chins up, Brookline, everything is going to be just fine.