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addicted

Okay, I have a really embarassing secret to tell. It's so fucking embarassing that I'm thinking twice about telling it to my own private journal. Okay, here goes:

I am addicted to Ebay.

Okay, fine. Maybe that doesn't sound so bad, but I'm telling you, it's bad. I mean, I am addicted to outbidding other people! What the fuck is that about?! It's sort of like gambling, except I so cannot afford this habit. I have never been an Ebayer (I can't believe I just used that term) but lately, I've been obsessed with designer everything - clothes, bags, shoes, and Ebay has this stuff for affordable prices. I even have an Ebay Mastercard!

It's fucked up. I hate being materialistic and superficial, especially here in Berkeley where people practically ostracize you if you're not wearing recycled clothing. But Ebay recycles clothing... most of the stuff are used, right? Still, even though I've moved away from the city of fast cars and movie stars, it seems that my desire to look Hollywood has only increased. This is the part where I tell you I purchased a dress for $398 (which really isn't that much, at least that's what I tell myself) from Neiman Marcus. That's more than what I make in a week working 40+ hours. Don't ask me what I was thinking - oh wait, I remember, I was thinking that I was hotter than the Olsens but I forgot that they were billionaires and well, I'm not even a thousand-naire yet. Anyhow, the purchase has been made, no regrets.

That dress kind of burned a hole in my wallet... oh, my Marc Jacobs wallet!!! Eeew, I sound so snobby.

I blame it on the media. It's always the media, but I'm not one of those Berkeley folk who skips work to stand outside MTV picketing about how their shows are the reason why girls are anorexic. No, I'm the girl who is anorexic. I'm not really, it's just a metaphor. It's not just the media though, it's other girls too. They're competition - my competition, and at my old age, there's a need to look better than the younger bitches, to show them who's boss. So, if their parents are buying them Gucci, Prada and Manolo Blahnik, then guess what? I'm going to buy it too, except with the bank's money and regret it later, but at least I'll feel better. I know it's pathetic, but I admit it, so I guess I'm getting somewhere.

Um okay, I have to move on to another subject before I slap myself for being so snobbish... so what else is there to say? Okay. Sometimes I crave cigarettes, but why would I smoke again after I've already gone through all the trouble of quitting? Actually, I know I can be a social smoker, but why would I want to reek of cigarettes? Gross.

I'm bored. When I used to get bored, I'd call a friend and go out, and find a boy for the evening. Or, I'd have some x-rated fun with a "friend with benefits". That's such a high school term, but whatever. You'd think that now that I have a live-in boyfriend, I'd have sex all day and never get bored. But the magazines are right, once you've settled into that married life, the sex just isn't the same. Don't get me wrong, it's still good, but it's just not exciting anymore. Especially when we're both busy, we just get it on to get it over with. I miss getting down and dirty in strange places. I even wish I still lived at home so we could have sneaky sex.

I have to finish this later - don't want the live-in boyfriend to see this. Ciao friends.

another obsession

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