Guys, for real, I'm suuuuuuper busy.

So, as I am sure all of you (and by all of you I mean very few of you) have noticed, I haven't posted anything in quite some time. And I have a really good reason for that. I've been busy. 

Were you aware that when you get super stressed out and have a whole lot going on, only the really important things in your life get priority. And when i say 'important', i really mean to say, all the things you hate doing, but still have to do. It's true. Look it up. So amidst all the working two jobs, and the apartment hunting, and the packing, and the moving, and the unpacking, and the drinking, and the general merriment of the past two months, my writing has been on the back burner. The back burner has still been lit, but its been on more of a 'simmer' setting to keep from burning. But I'm back guys! Full force! Contain yourselves. 

Moving, am I right?!   

But for real. It's the worst. Especially when the place your moving into doesn't have an expiration date because you're preeeeety sure you are where you want to be for the foreseeable future. So all of a sudden this place you wanna live is actually going to be your real life, grown up home. So now location is an issue. Proximity to work seems to matter. Where do all my friends live again? Living next to them might be nice. So there are all the things that matter to take into consideration. Then, thee are the things that don't matter, but you have decided they do.

"Oh, I don't know. I mean its nice, but that's a Chase Bank on the corner?"

"Is there a lot of natural light? I'm used to living under an open sky."

"Yeah, I see the Chrysler Building and the Freedom Tower, but there's nothing we can do about the high rise that blocks the Empire State? Because if I don't know what color lights it's sporting tonight, how do I know what holiday it is??"

I'm kidding. About one of those. The biggest problems that will face you and your Caleb when you move are going to be closet space, counter space, cabinet height and shelves. In our new place, I have a great closet, no counter space and I can't reach any of the cabinets. I feel like the last one Caleb intentionally chose because he doesn't like me playing hunter and gatherer with his groceries. Which I just don't understand. 

Then there's the packing. Which seems fine before you actually start doing it. Then it becomes like this really long winded magic trick that no one is sure you're going to be able to pull off. Including you. You discover stuff you never knew you had, as well as things you will never know what you kept. The best way to avoid cleaning your apartment is to move out of it. Somehow, we made it work and paid two hipsters a bajillion dollars to move all our stuff. Because if I have learned one thing from my cherished and brief time lived as a privileged princess, 'don't do anything you can pay someone to do for you.' So that was my last big hurrah, seeing as now I'm back to being Cinderella pre-ball. Or I guess, post-ball, pre-wedding. When she's poor guys, get it?

But we persevered! We are in a great apartment in Long Island City, right off of 4 trains and within walking distance to culture and eating. No one is killing chickens on our street, or partying to latin techno at 3 in the morning. Our super even speaks english. The smell of latin food has been replaced by the permeating smell of curry. And we are finally moved in! After three trips to ikea in 10 days, we are also unpacked.  We made our first big, grown up, long term roommate relationship purchase of a couch, and here we are! We even bought Barry a new litter box. He didn't know how to thank us, so he peed on a pillow. How sweet. 

So that's where I am right now in life. Getting settled, watching Sherlock, working my butt off, doing improv and sometimes getting to have some semblance of a social life. 

I Am, what I Ham

As a species, we have a lot of things that connect us. It's really nice actually. There are so many things that we all have in common that allow us to bond and feel a real sense of camaraderie. We all have to breath, we all have to sleep, we want to feel loved, we need at least two hours of tv a day, we like to own lesser species as pets to feel powerful and we are all fat.

Yeah. You. You are fat. You soooo are. I know, its really hard to hear isn't it? But it's true. Okay, maybe thats a little harsh. I'm gonna rephrase that. We all think we are fat. Is that better? Is that a statement we can all get on board with?

I'm certain that all of us have, at one point or another, called ourselves fat. I have. My friends have. My cat has (in his case though its crazy true). But I'm not fat. You're not fat. Barry still is though...

So maybe some of you out there are like "Carly, thats real sweet and everything and I know we should all love ourselves, but I really am fat." And to that I say: "Says who?" What if its not fat. What if its just you? And what if its the best part?

To quote Woody Allen:

"For when we lose twenty pounds dear reader (and I am assuming you are not as large as I), we may be losing the best twenty pounds we have! We may be losing the pounds that contain our genius, our humanity, our love and honesty or, in the case of one inspector general I knew, put some unsightly flab around the hips."

                                                  -Notes from the Overfed

It really got me thinking. And the more I thought, and frankly snacked, the more I realized its true. Every pound makes us who we are. The pound I gained last week? That pound was caused by a great few days spent with friends and cupcakes. That pound is a pound full of laughs. The pound I lost this week was clearly a pound that aided with my ability to wake up on time, which I am now not able to do. So next time you look at your fat, whether or not you really are fat, remember that each five pounds are chock full of experiences and lessons and the little chunks that make you, you. Winston Churchill had productive fat. Think of what a fat Gandhi could have accomplished!  

Also, if you are considering lipo-suction, ask yourself "where does that fat go, and who is using it and to what ends?" Maybe there is a secret underground army of discarded fat full of genius cells and crafty sneak cells and war savvy! Lipo aside, where does all the fat we lose go to? Where is it lying in wait? What is it planning? When will it strike?? Has it left us with only weak and unimaginative fat and taken all the good fat with it? Oh no. Oh dear, this is terrible. I think I liked life better when I just thought I was fat. Now I am enlightened and I'm scarred.

So in order to stop what can only be the beginnings of a massive fat overhaul and uprising, we must give the fat less power. We have to stop obsessing about that weight flux that has taken over our lives. I am grossly aware that this entry turned a little sappy and self-lovey, which is frankly... well, gross. But I have alternative motives. I really just want everyone to stop being so touchy about their weight, because I want to be able to make fat jokes and not offend people. So if you care about my comedic well being, you will stop thinking you are all fat. Because I have lots of jokes waiting about, gathering dust and itching to only be mildly, and not wildly, offensive.  

***Side note: If you happen to have excess amounts of fat filled personality, its still not okay to take up three seats on the subway. I just wanna clear that up.