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I've been trying, for a few weeks now, to update this blog with something substantial; unfortunately, I've been feeling more than uninspired lately. I know it seems surprising, since I work in the location that is, supposedly, the most magical place on Earth, but inspiration is hard to come by. Maybe it's all the yogurt and Kashi I've been consuming in the last week... perhaps it's addled my brain. Maybe the human brain can't survive on low-cal shit and needs a big, greasy, disgusting pizza every once and again. Who knows, maybe modern science has got it all wrong, and the human body needs 2,000 calories daily made up mostly of trans fat, cholesterol, and those squishy, fudgy marshmallows hiding in the pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food I'm so desperately trying to avoid in an attempt to maintain the thin figure I've redeveloped over the past two months away from home.

I took a nap this afternoon and dreamed my skin peeled off, leaving me as a muscled body... completely naked, of course, but the main concern here was the lack of integument, not the lack of clothing. Assuming it is completely based on my vanity... I'd say the dream spurred from my obsession with acquiring a golden glow before I fly to Fargo for the week.  Don't get me wrong, I love my body... but this sunbathing fix isn't because I want to have pretty, golden skin; it's more so that when I gallivant back to the North country the idea of me living in Florida for the past two months is believable. I'd like to say I spend my time frolicking on the beach, learning how to surf, making magical memories for children and somehow finding time to pose with the nearest palm tree every day... but really? I spend at least two and a half hours per day on an overheated, smelly, overcrowded bus system. I take a bus from the Chatham bus stop (about three to four blocks from my Patterson apartment) to Vista Way, then that bus to Disney's Transportation and Ticket Center, then to West Clock cast member parking. Then I hop on a Disney VIP Castmember bus to the entrance of the Magic Kingdom tunnel system.... and I do it all again on the way home. I spent anywhere from 9-14 hours of every day inside Cinderella's Castle (trust me, it's a lot less exciting as it seems). On days I work, the time I'm not at work or on a bus I'm usually in bed, relaxing, skyping, mentally preparing myself for another day inside that castle. So the sun-kissed skin I'm sporting the past week or so? A carefully calculated optical illusion... trying to convince the masses that working for Disney, living in Florida, is the bees knees. I've carefully scheduled time to lay by the pool to create these tan lines. Alas, tis true. I am a Disney slave. My skin was just as pasty white as it was when I left North Dakota (considering I'd already peeled off my Lake Calhoun sunburn debaucle... I was pretty white).

It's amazing how when you're craving a slimy, greasy, nasty cheese pizza that nothing you try to tempt your body with to get rid of the craving is good enough.

 "Here, body, try a raspberry yogurt with cinnamon KASHI! You love that! It's your favorite!"
"Hmm... no, thanks. I want a pizza. That's it. I'm going to reject everything you give me until you fill my arteries with grease. Okay, thanks."
"But, body... I've been working really hard to eat right and be healthy! Don't sabatouge me now!"
"Fuck you, Emily! I'm going to KEEP releasing negative chemicals in your brain until you give me what I want. I want pizza. End of story."


Sad thing is... that body always wins. And as if the pizza which the Ninja turtles would envy wasn't enough to satisfy me, I'll throw in some garlic butter. Just in case.