If you haven't been living under a rock, or if you genuinely care about my well being, you'll know that a few weeks ago, a coyote went loose on the streets of NYC. Ever since then, things in these parts have gotten a little funky. Exhibit A: my refrigerator has taken on an unpleasant odor reminiscent of the time my mom forgot she had groceries in the trunk and took a couple trips to the beach. We have no idea what the source of this odor is, but somehow I feel as though I should blame the coyote. Exhibit B: On a recent trip to Baltimore, my friends and I became possessed by ghosts of college years passed. Again, I blame the coyote.
Now Chuck and Blaire are over?! Well it appears there's only one thing to do... Blame the coyote. What other freaky force of nature could pull apart such perfect love? Well, you know, besides prostituting out your girlfriend to your creepy uncle.
In Chucks defense, I have to believe he had some sort of secret back-up-plan that was never revealed. No? Is that the naïve 16-year-old in me that still believes "it's not you, it's me" talking? Gripes. Fooled again by the blinding powers of love.
So here I sit, with a smelly fridge, embarrassed from last weekend without even the thought of Chuck and Blaire to keep me warm. It could be worse, I could be Jenny, actually convinced that my rats nest and whore games will win me Nate Archibald. Silly, Jenny... Don't you know that a well conditioned mane always wins the man?
But back to the subject at hand: WHY GOD, WHY DID THEY HAVE TO BREAK UP?! My personal investment in this relationship is really starting to take a toll on me. I can't eat, can't sleep, can't shower. Hey... Do you think that weird smell could be me?
Now Chuck and Blaire are over?! Well it appears there's only one thing to do... Blame the coyote. What other freaky force of nature could pull apart such perfect love? Well, you know, besides prostituting out your girlfriend to your creepy uncle.
In Chucks defense, I have to believe he had some sort of secret back-up-plan that was never revealed. No? Is that the naïve 16-year-old in me that still believes "it's not you, it's me" talking? Gripes. Fooled again by the blinding powers of love.
So here I sit, with a smelly fridge, embarrassed from last weekend without even the thought of Chuck and Blaire to keep me warm. It could be worse, I could be Jenny, actually convinced that my rats nest and whore games will win me Nate Archibald. Silly, Jenny... Don't you know that a well conditioned mane always wins the man?
But back to the subject at hand: WHY GOD, WHY DID THEY HAVE TO BREAK UP?! My personal investment in this relationship is really starting to take a toll on me. I can't eat, can't sleep, can't shower. Hey... Do you think that weird smell could be me?
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