—We interrupt this broadcast of Real Housewives of Atlanta Season 7 Reunion Part 3 to bring you another nightly instalment of Madgespace.—
I heard we're not supposed to say, "Oh my god, I'm soooo OCD about [fill in the blank]" because it diminishes the seriousness of obsessive compulsive disorder. WELL, not to sound like an old person justifying their casual racism, but can we say anything anymore?!?!?!
Fine. Out of respect, I won't use OCD to refer to my undiagnosed obsessive idiosyncrasies from this point forward.
What I will say is that I can't eat Goldfish crackers like a normal person.
I have to lick off the salt slowly until the fish is soft and damp. Then, I must bite the edge carefully with my teeth so that it breaks exactly in half at its seam. It's arduous. And it only works on some of them. Others aren't filled with enough air. Their sides are fused together and it's impossible to separate them.
The reason I know it's not too serious a medical condition is:
1. I could always just cut Goldfish crackers out of my diet (but could I really?)
2. After about 12 crackers, I get fed up with my little game, grab a handful and gobble them all up like Cookie Monster.
 |
| Some weird, long-haired girl eating Goldfish crackers. |
Gotta get some ZZZZs. Going to the migraine doctor tomorrow. I'm hopeful! Maybe I should mention the Goldfish thing while I'm in there. On second thought, maybe I shouldn't.
To all a goodnight,
Margaret
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