Tag Archives: Xanax

A Xanax, a pep talk and finding my big girl panties…

Bailey,

Are you alive?

I thought you should know that yesterday I had a nervous break down of quite epic proportions. You see, it was my last day of finals and my professors graciously made everything due on the same day. At the beginning of the semester, everything seemed completely manageable… three projects? No problem! Complete web design? Bring. It. On. Research paper? In my sleep. You want a presentation? I’ll show you a presentation.

And then came the procrastination (as it always does) and I did nothing for the entire semester and found myself with 48 hours to finish everything to meet my five o’clock deadline (presentation and final) and midnight deadline (assignments and papers). I took most of Monday dicking around on facebook, re-starting this blog and doing *one* assignment. Whatever. I still had Tuesday and everything would be fine.

Note: For my personal use, I choose to use a mac (the computer of the gods). For work, I’m forced to use a PC (the computer of my dad who used  “Steve Jobs is arrogant.” as his reasoning for not getting a mac, but that’s another story).

Anywho. I had to do a project in Captivate and it just so happens my PC has that software and my Mac does not.

Note: I could throw my mac out of a window into a pool and I wouldn’t lose a damn thing. If I look at my PC the wrong way, it shuts down.

I finished my one project of the day (which only took about four hours of total work time) and decided it was time to give my eyes a break from the computer and watch Conan. Just when I settled in to a comfy little monologue I hear the sound of my PC laptop CLOSING. WHAT?! THE?! #$%^?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Algebra closed my laptop (something about saving energy?!) and thereby erased all the work I had done. Of course then my stress and PMS kicked in and we got into a fight of epic proportions because I was being crazy and loud and mean (you know those fights where you’re right, he’s wrong, the relationship is fa sho over and hell no we’re not going to sleep because we’re going to stay up and yell).

This is pretty much what the breakdown looked like if I were Paris Hilton. Or, this is what Paris looks like when she attempts using a computer. You decide.

Tuesday rolled around, we were still pissed at each other, he went to work and I sat and cried in front of my computer screen. I outsourced part of my homework assignment to Bianca and told her about my break down. I told her I needed help, I couldn’t breathe, the world was crumbling and without an intervention I might “get back into bed and never graduate.”

Here is Bianca’s pep talk:

Ok. Come off the ledge, my friend. The beauty of a committed relationship is that you can be crazy and/or mean and are automatically forgiven. This time tomorrow you will have forgotten how stressed out you were! If he doesn’t know that you get irrationally angry when under deadline and pmsing, well then he just hasn’t been paying attention and that’s his fault. 😉 I’m sure he does his annoying, irrational shit too. It’s a part of life.
Like the obese woman down the hall from me just said about her new enema weight loss diet that is making her irritable (bowel joke), This too shall pass (also a bowel joke). You will finish all of your work, pass your classes with flying colors, and Algebra is going to love you forever. No matter how annoyed with him you may get.
And as Papa Vanderstappen always says, these are quality problems. You are stressed about grad school, but you are lucky to have the opportunity for higher education. You are stressed about Algebra, but lucky to have somebody to fight with. So voila! Off. Ledge.

And just like that, I put on mascara, a sun dress and my big girl panties and marched out the door to give my final presentation (with only minor eye puffiness from all the crying). The pep talk was just what I needed and Bianca’s part of my homework assignment turned out great, too.

Or perhaps it was the Xanax I took 30 minutes prior… either way, it worked.

Hugs, kisses and date night,
Bridget (and Algebra Forever)

Bianca,
I really couldn’t have survived yesterday without you and your pep talk (bowel jokes included). You saved my ass (bowel joke?). I really appreciate it.
Bridget

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Who me? Couldn’t be. Then who, in the canoe?!

Bianca and Bailey-

It’s official. I’m getting in the Christmas spirit. After making gingerbread houses with my students yesterday, wrapping Christmas presents (making a HUGE mess) and then our annual holiday girl’s dinner – I can’t help but have a jolly perspective on life. Maybe that’s just all the wine that comes with the holidays, but in any event, MERRY MERRY!

Our girls’ dinner last night was fantastic. Minus the choice in
restaurants (seriously, the Olive Garden?!) it was a hilarious and wonderful evening with all the drama free (What’s happening to us?!) DramaWhores. I have weird social anxiety when I get around a group of people I know too well (or don’t know at all – so pretty much always) so to make sure I’d be “comfortable” at the dinner I was sure to down a mammoth glass of vino before we left the house, and although I felt nice and toasty throughout all of dinner, I must say, I don’t think I needed the liquid Xanax. Everyone was happy, nice, funny and wonderful.

It was great to catch up with everyone – some that I hadn’t seen in months – and chit chat about our lives, what’s going on, who’s dating who and (yikes) how we are all connected. It might sound like a sweet little subject line for an email, but nay, this connection is far more illicit. We are all connected by the people on Greek Row that we managed to *hook up with.

With all of us around a table, bottles of wine and the volume of our voices cranked to the max – it all came out. All the connections at the table were CRAZY and even a few lasses were caught in lies! HILARIOUS!

Bianca, you were by far the queen of the Alpha’s. And that one Sigma Pi (or was he an Alpha? Or both?) had managed to lock lips with 80 percent of the table, amazing! Also, I’d just like to throw out that the number of hook ups that you two share (especially for being related) is nothing other than magical. There’s really got to be some sort of special incest at play here: frat brothers with cousins, real brothers with sorority sisters, cousins and sorority sisters sharing real and frat brothers… Oh my!

My other favorite part of the night is when hook-up locations, people and events were all muddled (surely from the amount of brain cells we killed during college). “Wait. Was it you in the canoe?” “I think I was in a sailboat.” “But who was in the lawn chair?” “Which coast were we on?” “He said he remembers some sort of floatation device…” Et cetera.

Sigh. College was fun and hilarious. And the only thing that could possibly be more fun is re-hashing each event, detail by detail, years later with the greatest friends in the world. I love us.

Feeling lucky to have such wonderful DramaWhores as friends,
Bridget

*Hook up: Think the junior high definition of make out, not the porn version of God only knows what you’re thinking, pervs. (Although I’m not going to lie, the hook-up umbrella emcompasses all kinds.)

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