I Wish I was Still in Miami...Trick

  The cold is even worse on me old fragile bones now that I've had a taste of warmth and sun and have returned to upstate New York's version of 'January.'  I'd like to thank my sister for a wonderful early birthday pressie in the form of a mini-vacation to Miami, and I would also congratulate my brother-in-law on running in the Miami Half-Marathon!  I know I would have needed to start walking after about 1 mile, so the fact that he ran 13 miles in a decent time is pretty impressive.  I never thought I'd like a city where about 3/4 the population is plastic (titty implants, ridiculous tans, ridiculous duck lips, blonde extensions, etc.), and my hair is a continual Diana Ross-like-Afro due to the humidity, but the sun and fun of Miami is a nice break from the reality of sub-zero temps and a full time job that I hate.  I got tons of sleep, which was a nice departure from running on 6 hours a night, which is what I've been doing for the last few months, and I finally had more than a single day off from Mollister (I'm still surprised I had enough vacation days accumulated that I was able to take such an 'extensive' (aka, 4 days) break hahaha).

I'm pretty sure that given the opportunity to lay on the beaches of Miami forever, my stress level would be null and void.  There really is nothing like the sun warming your mostly nakie body and knowing that you're 3,000 miles from your job and responsibilities and no one can find or harass you or make you do anything.  I always get this notion in my head when I'm on a vacation that if I wanted to never come back, things would work out just fine... and I briefly pondered what it might be like to run away in Miami and never come home (though I would miss my bf, my friends, and of course my pets).  I decided that wasn't a very feasible option given the cost of living and the fact that I know no one in that city lol.  I'm sure finding a sugar daddy would solve the issue of money, but I don't think that would fly with the bf, nor would my natural assets and lack of skin pigmentation fly with the Miami Sugar daddy crowd.  Speaking of sugar daddies, Miami must be the capital.  It always weirds me out to see some old, wrinkled man with a twenty-something bimbo, because you know that bitch is probably doing some pretty nasty things for her keep.  lol.  Yikes.

I was pretty damn vigilant about protecting my ivory skin from the sun this time, making sure to cover my entire face, body, and scalp with SPF 60 every time I left the hotel.  I didn't really get a tan, however I got many freckles and a couple rogue burn marks on my lower back/upper bum area where apparently I wasn't vigilant enough with the SPF on my first day there.  I've discovered it is best to be completely naked when applying sunscreen so as to assure you cover every last inch of skin.  I was super excited to finally have the opportunity to wear my new bathing suit(s) though, seeing as how they hardly even saw the light of day this past summer.

Lifting those heavy boxes at Mollister and doing 2 pushups a night (yes, two) has really paid off.  Sometimes I wonder what kind of heritage I really have, given the fact that I build muscle mass like a goddamn pitbull and my hair is nappier than any white girl's should be.  jk.  

It was a nice break actually, knowing that I didn't have to style my hair, because my efforts would be destroyed as soon as I left the AC... it was also nice wearing only mascara and a bit of blush because any other makeup would melt off... aaahh, the simple life. 

My sister and I spent the majority of our days laying in the sun and being lazy (well earned, might I add), as well as walking/biking around the city.  South beach was nice because unlike New York, one doesn't shit themselves biking around praying that they don't get clipped by a rogue taxi or a bus.  The streets were surprisingly un-busy, although there weren't really any bike lanes of which to speak, and we were unsure whether we should be on the sidewalk or in the road. haha.  We also found this awesome frozen yogurt place, that I wish we had around this area, because I would eat that shit for lunch every day!  

On Friday, we looked out the bedroom window of our hotel and saw a photoshoot going on on the rooftop next-door.  Being the inquisitive girls we are, my sister and I kept peeking out the window to see what they were shooting when my sister remarked that the model looked 'just like J-Lo.'  Being the bitch/skeptic that I am, I decided that it was far too tall to be J-Lo, and was probably some no-name model.  Well, come to find out, that was J-Lo that we spent the better half of the afternoon spying on.  I can also confirm she must have the most inflated ego EVER, because while we were sunbathing on our rooftop terrace, we heard her new song play 50+ times (yeah, that's right- JLo poses listening to her own song... on fucking repeat).  

Dlisted.com proved my sister was indeed correct, we saw all of the people on the roof next door. 

We did a little photoshoot of our own that afternoon with a pigeon I named Roberta, on our rooftop terrace:

Roberta, the sexiest pigeon who ever did live

The view from the Hotel's rooftop

The rooftop of our hotel was perfect for some late-afternoon rays and the beach was right across the street from the hotel...I wish I had this available to me year round. 

We also discovered a huge population of feral cats that lived by the boardwalk and spent their days and nights chilling in the beach grass and by the many restaurants.  This little guy was my favorite, probably because his pink nose reminded me of my own sweet Bijou:

So cuuuute!  I tried to pet him, but he was wild and wanted nothing to do with me. 

I didn't really have the opportunity to enjoy the night life this time around, and that was fine by me.  Being sober, waking up non-hungover, and laying in the sun was better than any cocktail.  

Tomorrow it is back to work for this girl.  Oh well, that's more money in my savings and hopefully less time before I am able to peace out of this town and re-locate.  I have promised myself to finish my book this month (this month being February), and I will bust me ballz to make that happen!  In the meantime, I plan to treat myself only to one new dress to wear out for my bday (maybe it will compensate for the fact I'm over the hill), jk.  Now I look forward to seeing my boyfriend again, and a couple of fun arts and crafts projects lined up... I love February :D 

Happy (late) Birfday Kate Moss !!!!!

Yesterday, the world's coolest, hottest, sexiest, most beautiful, perfect, fashionable woman celebrated a birthday; here's a little shout out to my personal fashion icon, Kate Moss:

Perhaps the reason Kate Moss is my hero is because she's usually naked, or close to it.  Perhaps it's because she usually has a sexy, dirty, boyfriend on her arm (Johnny Depp, Pete Doherty, Jamie Hince...).  Maybe it's because she doesn't give a fuck.  Maybe it's because she is usually photographed leaving the bars completely wasted.  Or, perhaps it's because her figure is completely attainable (unlike the stick-thin, titty implanted, 'I work out 3 hours a day' Victoria secret models).  Despite her flaws, she is still more beautiful than any other model out there today.  Whatever the reason, I would argue anyone who says that Kate Moss is not feminine perfection, and I would win. 

Ugh.  I don't want to go back to work tomorrow, but alas, there is money to be made and student loans to pay, and a future apartment with my name on it.  Last week was wretched.  The district manager was there on Thursday, and wanted to take my photo for the MIT bio.  Now, I was very curious as to why she needed my picture for this 'bio' and curious to know who was going to see it (it's not as though we have a news letter at work).  I was told that it was going to the corporate offices, and in the case that I wanted to transfer store locations, someone could look me up along with my photo and "get to know who I was," aka... see if I'm attractive/cute enough to work in like, the Soho location.  So fucked up.  Not only was I informed in advance to wear minimal makeup and leave my hair un-styled, but when I showed up to work in one of the designated plaid shirts that we are required to wear currently, it was apparently not good enough.  I was made to change THREE different times before she took my picture (as if what I am wearing really fucking matters as long as it's part of the dress code).  I was so fucking offended when I was asked to change into a 'blue plaid' shirt by the district manager, only to be given the once over and told that it 'overwhelmed my tiny frame.' I was then told to change into an ugly, white, lacy shirt suited for a 12 year old and a blue cardigan.  The DM fidgeted with my sleeves for 5 min. straight, trying to get them perfect (whatever perfect is... I didn't know there was a 'right' way and 'wrong' way to aesthetically roll one's sleeves).  I think the most offensive part of this evening was when she told me to, "straighten out my hair with my fingers, so it looks more natural."  Are you kidding?!  I didn't even take a curling iron to my hair, why do those natural waves need straightened?  What would happen if my hair was naturally curly all over?  Or I had an afro?  Oh yeah, that's right... I wouldn't be hired.  Because even the models falling into our 'diversity sector,' don't have afros, skin as dark as Alec Wek's, overtly Asian/African features (that is to say, no wide noses, or extremely slanted eyes).  Shit is just fucked up.  It's really hard to work here morally speaking, and I am actively searching for a better job right now.  I will never work retail EVER again after this job.  Not only was I made to feel unattractive before my photo was even snapped, but I was put in the WORST fucking lighting in the world (overhead flourescent), and shot on a fucking iphone camera, from the WORST angle in the world (I saw the photo, my hand looked like a mega-sized claw and my head looked tiny, like a pin).  Whatever, I have no intention of transferring so I suppose it doesn't matter how ugly those fat fucks working in the offices think I am.  hahahahahaha.  Sigh.  I remember being in middle school and hating my hair because it wasn't silky-textured, pin-straight and blonde like all of the popular girls.  And I really hate the fact that my DM wanted me to physically straighten out my natural volume for the photo.  Fuck that shit.  My hair is awesome and I won't be made to ever again feel that it's not adequate:

You like that crotch shot?  Yeah... me too. lol.  hahahaha.  My hair is luscious, full of volume, and naturally a color most people would kill for.  Jealous?  jk.  

Speaking of never being made to feel inferior, I have been feeling a bit inferior lately... wishing that I had gone to school for medicine or something a bit more lucrative than the arts.  Whatever, I now have two books underway, and if either of them gets published, I will feel like the most accomplished bitch on two legs.  And it will happen.  Someday, hopefully sooner than later.  

I deleted one of my very best, angriest posts, titled "Is it the 25th yet?" after learning that my blog had been viewed by like 30 people in one day after they had google-searched under the key words of the CEO's name, and my blog was one of the top searches....yipes.  I should probs be more careful.  I did some research about previous lawsuits filed against the company I work for, the CEO himself, and I think I'd be able to sue them before they sued me for slander, no problemo.  haha.  

January is such a dreary month, thank God I'm going to Miami in a week's time for some sun and relaxation!  Though I'm not sure what I was thinking when I ordered a white bikini... I am pale as Casper the friendly ghost and would probably benefit from a spray tan. However, I don't have the time, nor the funds, nor do I want to risk looking like a dirty, orange oompa Loompa.  Oh well.  Nastygal.com didn't have the white dress I wanted once again... clearly it is not meant to be.  Another white dress I wanted went on sale, but again they didn't have my size.  My birthday is next month, and all I want is a sexy, white dress to wear out!  I've never owned a sexy, white dress (well, my bf though this white sundress I had was sexy, but I think it made me look like Laura Engels from Little House on the Prarie).  I'm going to wait until the site gets in new dresses before making a rash decision on a dress I only like, and don't love. haha.  I spent all day yesterday making butter cookies, and because I had no cookie-cutter, I individually hand cut each heart with a paring knife.  I guess all of the toil and sweat I put into those little hearts  of love really worked up my appertite (and yes, I purposely spelled appertite like that) , because I couldn't resist them.  Yum!  

On a closing note; I'd like to put these words of wisdom from Margaret Cho out there.  I found this the other night while I was reading Jezebel in bed, and even though I've knocked on girls many times before for posting pictures of their less-than-societally-hot bodies on public sites, Ms. Cho made a valid point, and I applaud her 1,000 over.  I applaud her, because I have also been called ugly before (shout out to my brother's friends talking smack in the 7th grade), and I have also felt inadequate before (thanks to the vicious, blonde, silky haired bitches on my soccer team):

http://jezebel.com/5875219/cho-mad-twitter 

What this Hizzle goes on?

What kind of company takes photos of all of it's employees to keep track of who is 'attractive' enough to make a special list referred to as 'tracker' and therefore qualify to work in the front room of a fucking retail store or be a porch model for special events?  Mollister, that's what kind of company.  Complete bullshit in all respects.  And not only do we have to have a certain number of employees who need to get approved (by lord only knows what kind of team of judgmental fugos sitting around a coffee table, shooting the shit and picking apart the looks of the employees in the pictures we submit), but now the district manager wants pictures of the management?  WTF?  I didn't sign up to model here, why the fuck should it matter what I look like?  Today, the store manager interviewed a candidate for an MIT (manager in training) position.  He seemed like a smart, nice, intelligent, highly motivated individual.  I looked over his resume, and not only did he graduate from SUNY Binghamton in only 3.5 years with a dual major AND a minor, but he was on United Nations mock team, attended a conference at Harvard, and held down a 3.9 GPA.  Awesome, I thought!  We need another MIT since the other one was fired for stealing (dumb bitch).  However, the manager who interviewed him was like, "Our district manager is never going to hire him because he doesn't fit the image".....

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?  How many managers have been fired because they failed to perform and work hard and were only hired initially because they, "fit the image"?!  Too many. Maybe if we didn't hire on a basis of looks, we would get a more dependable staff.  There are some really, serious issues within this company if you ask me.  I wish I could hire him myself.  I interviewed two candidates last week who seemed like hard, motivated workers, and I ran the idea of hiring both interviewees past the store manager.  She told me that we 'needed more people on tracker' (aka, really hot individuals) and so we shouldn't hire anyone who we aren't sure is going to make tracker (even if they are better qualified to actually do WORK and have experience).  Shit is all sorts of wrong. I'm not sure how this company isn't getting sued yearly; I know for a fact they were sued in the past for hiring too many white people, and that's why we have a very important 'diversity' clause and have to report how many employees fit into this sector every month.  

So tomorrow, I get to have my picture taken.  I have to be makeup free, and "100% natural."  Hmmmm, last I checked this wasn't a test shoot for American Apparel (been there, done that).  Good thing I'm currently zit-free, but I do NOT feel comfortable with no makeup (unless I'm lounging around the house with my family or boyfriend).  I can only imagine what the group of people looking over my photo will have to say... *shudder*.  Oh well, I've convinced myself that it should be fine if this is what some of the top models look like with no makeup on, and they're getting paid the big bucks to 'look hot':

To any guys out there reading this:  Here is the highly bang-able Rosie Huntington-Whitely (of Victoria's Secret/Transformers fame without her hair and makeup).  

Another Victoria's Secret model without her makeup

This girl can be a model, and I can't?  Oh, yeah... sadly I never grew to 5'9".

On a happier note, I'm completely addicted to Goldfrapp at the moment, chiefly, this particular song.  It makes me want to wear the sexy, white dress I just ordered from Nastygal and go get down in a club!  haha... I know, I'm sick.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFF8bubMc40&ob=av2e

Stress= the best way to lose weight, though I wouldn't recommend it

Holy fuck.  Sometimes I just get so terribly overwhelmed by life and my future that it's not even a laughing matter.  I can't sleep at the moment, even though I should be, considering the fact my immune system took a shit on me earlier in the week and my skin is getting stressed (my skin gets itchy and becomes highly sensitive when I'm stressed out).  Many people have asked me recently why I am increasingly thin... I can assure everyone that I am not even trying to lose weight at this point in my life, I think that stress is eating away at whatever fat reserves I had.  Why am I stressed? Let us consider the facts of my life:

I am turning 24 in February.  Does anyone know how old that is?  That's officially an adult.  At 22, you're technically still college-aged, only a year older than the tender age of 21.  At 23, you could still be college-aged, but 24- that's almost half-way through your twenties, and that's scary.  I mean, I think I look better now than I ever did at 18 or 21, and most people think I'm like 19 when they meet me.  I wear sunscreen every day and never smoke and I only drink like once a month now, so my skin should be good for a while.  But it's that number.  It's a big, scary number.  The second one that is... the 4.  I mean, 1,2,3- they're all little numbers; you pair those numbers with a 2 in the tens' place and they're cute.  You put a 4 after the 2 and the number seems, well, not-so-little anymore.  Christ, where have the years gone?  Time seems to be slowly speeding up, each day getting a little bit faster, every new month leaves me wondering where the month prior to that has disappeared.  I blink my eyes and suddenly it's 2012... I was just in 2009.  Last night a friend texted me saying they missed the days of Cliff St.   I fondly looked back on that year-long period of my life where I was drunk almost nightly, acting wildly, kissing some very unsavory boys, just because I was single and I could.  Then I recalled meeting my current boyfriend, the sweet, newness of love and a relationship... I recalled the fondest memories of him meeting me at the top of the Hunt Union stairs to walk me to class on bitterly cold January mornings.  I recalled him bringing me chai lattes in the afternoon as I slaved away in the costume shop.  I remembered trips to Albany to shop for party supplies with one of my best friends, laughing at a cupcake bus and nearly swerving off the road.  I recalled nights of drinking germ-x, nights of writing poems about friends, battles over an inflatable moose head.  I remembered smashing wine bottles on trees nearly pissing myself, walking along railroad tracks on a warm, November day; making chicken parmesan for brunch, and listening to Michael Jackson in my friend's white Ford Taurus while the scent of cigarette wafted through the air.  I remember it all like it occurred just last week... and it was two, whole years ago.   I never knew that I'd look back on those crazy times with such a tender and melancholic heart.  I never knew I could long for the past in such a way as I did last night.  And now here I am, two years later.  Wondering where my life is going still, even though back then, I wondered the same thing, and had assured myself that by the time I was 23, I would know where my life was going, or even better yet, be where I wanted to be.

Twenty-four.  There's a song by Pete Doherty, and the lyrics are "If you're still alive, when you're 25, ah should I kill you, like you asked me to?  I really don't want to..."  It makes me think of the days when I thought that surely there was no life after 21.  Once I turned 21, I was certain that no life existed after 22, and so on, and so forth.  Coming to grips with the reality of growing older is tough.  I mean, we all get older, but that doesn't make it any less frightening.   Slowly, I am nearing the age of no return.  The age where you realize your days of drinking and abusing your body and living a care-free, "who gives a fuck,"  bohemian, "I'M STILL YOUNG!" lifestyle are numbered.  I have so much to look forward to, and I'm positive the best years are yet to come, but with freedom comes responsibility.  Paying back my student loans sucks balls, to put it frankly.  I've already put down $600 in loan repayments over the course of two months.  I know there are people out there paying way more than me, and I'm lucky my debt is only around $12,000.  That's not so terrible in the grand scheme of finances.  But I think of other places those $600 could be going.

I'm currently working a job I hate and I'm living at home, which I also hate.  I feel like a loser working a retail job, though I shouldn't because it is temporary and only to save money.  I don't know why I feel like a loser, I really shouldn't.  It's a management position that required a four-year, college degree.  It's sometimes stressful, and you know it must be a real job, because it has benefits and all of that other 'adult' type jazz.  But I never saw myself working in a store at a mall upon graduation.  I am saving money though and by no means have become 'comfortable' in this position (meaning I will be more than happy when I announce I'm putting in my two-weeks notice and peacing out), so I should at least give myself a pat on the back for that.  But that also means I need to start searching for a more permanent, more satisfying, preferably higher-income job... also preferably a job in a field that I went to school for (merchandising, theatre, design).  That's not easy to do when you work full time and find yourself consumed with errands, cleaning, and other vital things on your two days off a week.  Oh, and did I mention that my two days off don't fall on normal weekends?  That really sucks.  I have slowly been researching theaters and looking at the costs of living in other states.  I would like to live in the city, but I definitely would not be opposed to living on the coast in a state like Maine (there are a few reputable theaters in Portland) or Boston.

Upon discovering how monotonous and dreary life after college actually is, I've even considered applying for Masters programs and going back to school.  However, I think for now, I will rule that out, as I enjoy making money and not doing homework and practicum work for no pay.  I'm not sure how other people do it.  It seems like such a vicious cycle at times; you need to move somewhere where jobs are plentiful in order to get a job; but where the jobs are plentiful, the cost of living is generally higher because it's in a more metropolitan area... so you are shelling out more money for an apartment, utilities, public transportation, and general living.  How do people save money in today's world?  Like, seriously?  Unless you were born into money, struck it rich as an entrepreneur, or went to school for medicine or engineering, how do you get a job that allows you to live comfortably and save for the  future?  Sometimes I wish that I had forced myself to use my brain for things that might not be fun, but things that would definitely be lucrative.  I was always a straight A student, in every subject; I was valedictorian of my class... why the fuck didn't I take that full scholarship to Elmira college, and study something like engineering, or pre-med, or law?  I suppose it's because times were different in 2006.  The economy hadn't crashed, the job market hadn't crashed, and I was young and hopeful.  I am still hopeful, and determined that come hell or high-water, I will eventually end up in a job that allows me creative authority, decent hours (by that I mean vacation time and the occasional, two-day weekend), and the chance to inspire others.  It just might take me a bit longer to reach this job.

Sometimes I wonder how the people I graduated with are making ends meet.  Many of them have children, a lot of them are married or engaged.  Most of them are living independently and not with their parents... how do they do it?  I know not all of them have college degrees.  Did they marry some older dude with an established career?  Did they go to school for the 'right' type of career (healthcare)? Are they working jobs they hate too?

I wonder about the lives that people DON'T post on facebook.  The lives that aren't so very perfect and great.  I can't be the only one who's struggling to establish myself and my career here, while also maintaining a long-distance relationship and friendships.  I can't be the only 23 year old living at home to save money after college.  I can't be the only one who feels a bit disappointed in their current location, job title, living situation.

When I was 9 years old, I never would have guessed life would have so many choices, so many decisions, so many paths, so many roadblocks, or so many set-backs.  I thought you went to school, grew up, and got the job that you 'wanted.'  Lol... if only it were that simple.  I'd be multi-millionaire designer/painter right now, living the life of my 9 year old dreams.  Until I reach that dream, I've set some slightly more reasonable goals.  I know it sounds outlandish and probably like a waste of time to some, but I am bound and determined to finish my book and possibly attempt to find a publisher.  I'm not sure how one goes about doing any of that, but by God, It will be done.  I'm now on page 80, single spaced, with 3 more journals worth to go.  Who the fuck wouldn't want to read the shit I've done? I'm such a narcissist it kills me sometimes.  ;)  

It's going to be a good year

Another holiday season has come and gone, a little too quickly for my liking.  If I could have my way, Christmas festivities would last at least 14 days (minus all of the fatty foods day after day, but keep the alcohol intake and presents and pretty lights).  I still have more Christmas celebrating to do, however, seeing as how my sister and brother-in-law have returned from their trip to Sweden,  so I shouldn't jump the gun by saying it's over yet!  I didn't set any New Year's resolutions this year, primarily because I think setting goals in January is bullshit.  You can set goals any day, so why set them in the middle of a dreary and cold winter when you're likely to be unmotivated and have a case of the SADs (Seasonal Affective Disorder)? lol.   I have the same goals now I had 6 months ago; I must continue to save money, and get the fuck out of here!  Oh, and also, I'd like to finish my book by April.  My bank account has finally reached $5,000, which I consider a major accomplishment seeing as how I've been paying student loans back and fighting the on-going urge to buy shit like this:

http://www.nastygal.com/clothes%2Dintimates/idle%2Dhands%2Dbodysuit

Sigh.  I don't know what's wrong with me, but the material items I covet the most are the ones I will wear the least.  Buying things like seasonal boots and jeans is just so fucking boring.  That's why I need a job wear I can wear leotards and 5 inch heels and short shorts and latex leggings and sexy dresses.... and no, stripping isn't the profession I am leaning towards (though it might be lucrative ;p ).   I never got those Jeffrey Campbell Lita booties for Christmas; my mom told me they looked like 'Frankenstein' shoes and that I wouldn't get any wear out of them (probably true, but also a little sad; I mean, I could dish out the $168 for the booties myself, but I can't be so frivolous with my hard earned Mollister dollars now can I?!).

The other Manager in Training at Mollister got fired for stealing money last week.  She's the only bitch I truly disliked at work, so I'm really glad that she's gone, although now I'm covering her closing shifts.  Oh well.  That bitch was whack.  The first day I met her she talked about growing up on a ranch in Virginia and having horses and told me about going to some design school in L.A.  The next day she was telling me about growing up poor, with a mom who didn't work and supporting her younger brothers and putting herself through college.   She also talked about going to her father's for Thanksgiving and a week later I overheard her telling someone her dad had been murdered.  Shit just didn't add up.  On top of that, she was always talking about her drug use (I don't care if you use drugs, work just isn't the place to discuss your acid OD).  Furthermore, she talked about using a crystal pendulum to predict the end of the world.  The most annoying thing about this girl though, was her continual talk of weight.  She was a bit pudgy, but it looked good on her (some people carry weight way better than others).  However, she was always talking about wanting to lose weight, saying things like "I used to be so tiny..." blah blah blah.  She even kept pictures on her phone which she loved showing to people of herself when she was thinner like, 3 years ago.  Dude. No one cares.  On top of constantly bitching about needing to lose weight, she would order things like loaded cheese fries from Friendly's for lunch every day, and snack on cheese danishes and other shitty food.  A week before she was fired, she came back from GNC with some crazy looking weight-loss pills, raving about how her friend had used them and they worked wonders.  I wanted to smack her.  Not only is that the lazy, slob's way out of losing weight, but diet pills are terrible for your health and basically  like doing speed.  The sad part is, this other girl I work with, who is relatively thin, came in and saw the diet pills and started raving about them too!  WTF?!  I didn't know so many people actually took diet pills at such a young age.  I always thought they were for lard asses or old ladies (like in Requiem for a Dream) lol.  There is nothing worse than being in a room of girls talking about their weight.  I'm telling you, it's enough to drive a person to insanity.