How About a Little White Whine With That?

Ever have those days where everything is just SWELL? You wake up with fab hair, your incredibly handsome, doting significant other surprises you with breakfast in bed, little birdies help you get ready for work by dressing you in your best Prada suit, the hot guy on the bus flirts with you, you get a promotion, have a fabulous outdoor run and PR the distance, you cook an amazing dinner and settle in for a nice, relaxing bubble bath before you drift off over a book and nice glass of pinot noir?

I am not having one of those days.

As I was reading through my friends' fb updates and blog posts this morning, it seems as though a lot of people are feeling this way today. But seriously? If I have to read one more sentence from people saying, "Oh, my life is SO terrible; the end of the world is upon us but I'm taking it like a champ and soldiering on anyway," I am going to lose it. We all have annoyances throughout the day, and we are entitled to whine about them. But for the love of God, stop pretending that we're not whining, take this advice from the always-awesome Hollaback Girls at Hollaback Health, and just own your "White Girl Problems" already! For instance, here are my sterotypical "WGPs" for the day:

- This morning was one of those days where I woke up feeling, well, ya know. I decided to make the best of it and embrace the whole "fake it 'til ya make it" schtick, and dressed for my (curvy) body type. I wasn't pumped about the way the skirt/jacket met, but B was going to kill me if I made him any later, so I threw on a scarf a co-worker brought me from China to pull it all together. After a few positive compliments on my ensemble, I had a bit more pep in my step. That is, until another coworker told me that I look like a flight attendant for Kuala Lumpur airlines. Then another one chimed in to say, "but younger! And prettier!" .... the sad part is, they're kind of  right:

- Charlie Sheen. The man manages to make me feel like a dirtbag for being entertained by his dirt-bagginess. I know he has tiger blood and Adonis DNA and all, but I spent his entire 20/20 escapade waffling between little "tsk,tsk" noises, shaking my head in shame and snarfing the 1 2 2.5 Longtrails I told myself I wasn't going to drink because I wanted to know if beer would help me understand him better (it didn't, but it *did* make him a whole lot funnier).

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- I just found out I can't run the 5k that I was totally dying and excited to run next weekend with my Southern Homegirl, because I instead have a date with the Bishop. Now I'm out $34 and have a package of sparkly shamrock tattoos. Eff. Em. El.

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- The term fierce. I don't know what it is lately, but this one little adjective makes me want to pull Beyonce's weave and kick Tyra in the Top Model. According to dictionary.com, fierce is an adjective defined as "menacingly wild, savage or hostile." Seriously, people, a wildcat is fierce. A vampire is fierce. Hell, even Charlie Sheen is fierce. Your new shoes? Not so fierce.

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- I don't have cable, and I want to mind-numb myself with trashy reality tv. How can I keep up with the banter between Snickers and Vin when I have to time my gym-going perfectly to do so?

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- Speaking of JS, I am thoroughly depressed that St. Paddy's Day is upon us and I will not be celebrating this momentous occasion and tribute to my heritage with one of my besties, LC. She used to live a block from me and then ditched Beantown for her hometown of The Cleve, and now I have no one to coerce me into doing ridiculous things like the 30 Day Shred followed by tequila, Jersey Shore marathons and rapping about foam rollers.

- I have the Indiana Jones theme song stuck in my head. Who. Does. That. I decided to indulge the earworm by making a Pandora station for it and am now sitting at my desk listening to the song from the end of Star Wars, when Han Solo and Luke get their medals. Great. Now I not only have a reputation as the girl who dresses like a flight attendant, but also as the office weirdo who listens to the Star Wars soundtrack. Frakkin' awesome.

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- Due to the aforementioned WGP of no cable, I've taken to spending my spare time at home while B is at class or work re-watching the entire series of Veronica Mars on DVD (which I own), and seriously, it hurts my soul that Season 3 was so. utterly. terrible. And I miss Officer Leo.  Best. Show. EVER.

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And to top it all off, I just checked my cell phone for the first time today and had a totally creepezoid message from an unknown number from my home state inquiring whether, at 9 am, I was "up for some fun". Because, you know, even if I were that type of girl (which I am not, nor have I ever been), I obviously wouldn't have anything important to do at 9am, like, you know, work or anything. It had to have been either a wrong number or some former friend of mine playing an awk joke, but I can't escape the indescribable urge to go shower in a trough of Pine Sol.

Ok, I'm done now. /WGP rant.

Tell me: how is your day today? Got any WGPs to whine about? Share away, dear friends -- OWN those WGPs and let it all out!