Good advice from a great friend

I get this email today from Supermommy and she's like, "Uh, I think I lost the plot line somewhere. What the hell is going on?". So I unload. It's like this five paragraph email filled with neurosis, anxiousness and self-doubt and she looks through it carefully and then responds something along the lines of, "Wow, you're totally neurotic and are creating mountains out of mole hills and are currently your own worst enemy". Um, yes. Though in my self defense I do think that I mentioned that paranoia would be next on the menu on yesterday's blog.
Anyways. I am thankful for the rational, thoughtful friends that I have had (in this case since I was like, six years old) that are able to comprehend the ridiculous path upon which I am so resolutely about to disembark and who steer me, so gently and kindly, in the right direction. Sometimes, when my head is really far up my ass? It's hard to see where I'm going.
Having extricated my head from my ass I was able to have a really fun evening with Michael (he had two beers and got the hiccups: it was freaking awesome) and I love Michael as much as the day is long. I just have to learn that sometimes, when he doesn't call? It's not because he doesn't love me. He loves me tremendously, and sometimes I doubt this when he's not in my immediate purview, but that's my issue, not his.
In other news, I bought some Bin 222 and why in Christ's name did I ever - ah. I bought a Bin 222 and just assumed it was Lindeman's and it wasn't. So, um, avoid the Wyndham Estates Bin 222: it's horrid. But do buy Wyndham Estates Bin 555 (Shiraz): excellent. And Lindeman's Bin 222 is fantastic. Don't confuse the two, or else you'll end up with a bottle of kife white that makes you retch. Oh my god, it tastes like an oak barrel. I fucking hate Chardonnay.
Where was I? Oh, right. Michael. I fucking love Michael. Sigh. Yes. Man. He makes me want to be a better person, and I think in the year that we were apart I've tried to cultivate that better persona. He gave me props for all the work that I've been doing with the environmental committee at work (while chiding me for my shit time on the last marathon). He's hot. He let me go as I railed on Bill C-51 today and let me unload on all my work issues. Then he let me give my speech on toxicity (to be presented at our next Eco presentation at work on June 20th) and let me ramble about the overall attractiveness of my coworkers (having deduced this from the pictures on my blog: god, I work with hot men, thankyoulordjesus). He's just a really easy going kind of guy. Even if he's lifting up my shirt to look at the damage caused by my stupid water belt from our Sunday 27k extravaganza. What?! There was some chaffing. What do you want?
So, obviously I am in better spirits and am in a better mood. There is something in my personality that seems to demand 24/7 reassurance. I hate that thing. I'm a pretty decent person. The vast majority of people that seem to like me are (in my opinion) super cool and I admire them tremendously. So I should maybe just allow myself the satisfaction that comes with the knowledge that I am pretty okay because the people that like me are frickin' awesome.
Oh my god. This wine is really not good at all. But I strongly recommend Barefoot Cellars' Pinot Grigio (California). It's been one of the best (white) wines that I've had in a long time and it's really cheap.
Yeah. Oak barrel plus butter = shite.