Brace Yourselves.

Hey Yawl.

I hope everyone had a blessed Fourth of July. And blessed Fifth of July for that matter. And alll the days that have followed.

I know some of you out there are saying, But Rachel, the 4^th of July was almost a week ago. And while that is true, unfortunately the residents of the urban hellscape in which I live have continued to light off fireworks every hour on the hour for the past seven days. So, to me, Independence Day is Everyday.

Anyway, I haven’t been in the mood to blog recently due to the heart-wrenching pain that I’ve been going through, but I thought I’d hop on here and say a few words.

Strong Battles, Weak Windows.

In the seemingly never-ending viscous cycle that is God giving his toughest battles to his weakest soldier (me), I have once again been the target of a vehicle-related attack in my neighborhood. For those of you who are unaware, it was just a few months ago when my beloved Honda Civic was stolen from in front of my house (see: A Tale of Two Car Thefts: In Hot Pursuit – Wine and Zoloft) Fortunately, the car was found parked a mere five minutes away from my residence and was returned to me by Stamford PD relatively unscathed.

Now, in a troubling turn of events, I have ONCE AGAIN fallen victim to what can only at this point be considered a hate crime. Because whoever it is out there that is doing this to me, must really hate me.

Last Saturday morning I woke up feeling almmmooost optimistic. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the Ozempic was Ozempic-ing (more on that later). Once my knee-knocking sister came over I decided it would be a beautiful day for a hike with my two angel baby pit bulls, and she agreed. As I stepped out onto my porch clutching a leash in one hand and one of my breasts in the other, I took a deep breath of the midafternoon air and set off down the sidewalk. We had not walked more than fifteen feet before my sister stopped abruptly.

“Rachel,” she said sounding confused and looking down on the ground.

“What?”

She bent over and picked something up off the ground. “Is this your wallet?” she asked.

I looked at the small Louis Vuitton pouch from a distance, but already knew the answer. It was.

But how? My car was parked considerably further down the street, there was no way I could’ve accidentally knocked it to the ground as I was exiting the car.

I turned around and walked toward my car suspiciously, mainly because I am no stranger to expecting the worst and then something even worse happening. As usual, I was right.

My rear side passenger window had been bashed in, and a pool of shattered glass laid on the pavement and in the backseat of the car. Even more alarmingly, my matching Louis Vuitton bag which retails for about 2k, (I didn’t buy it and could not possibly afford it myself, so I don’t think this counts as a “humblebrag”) my laptop, my credit card, and about $60 cash had all been left in the car. The only thing that had been taken was the wallet, which was dumped a yard away onto a sewer drain with my license and debit card still inside. 

I sat down on the sidewalk dumbfounded as I prepared to call Stamford’s finest for the third time in three months. A little late night breaking and entering by some neighborhood street youths is one thing. In fact, it’s borderline understandable in this day and age. But , the fact that once again my car (which, by the way, is parked on the street next to FAR NICER CARS including my bf’s Mercedes) is being targeted repeatedly without anything ever actually being stolen out of it leads me to believe that the culprit may have far more sinister motives than we realize.

HashTag My Ozempic Journey:

In case any of you have been living under a goddamn rock for the past year or so, the latest diet/fitness craze that is sweeping the nation is one which shockingly does not require any diet or fitness. Made popular by (allegedly) celebs such as Kim Kardashian, Mindy Kaling, and every bravolebrity from DoLo Delores Catania to Kyle “You Stole My Goddamn House” Richards, Ozempic is a drug made originally to treat obesity in individuals struggling with Type 2 Diabetes.  Basically, you shoot yourself up once a week in the body part of your choosing, and the injection “imitates a hormone called glucagon-like peptide-1 that we naturally produce in our intestines, limiting appetite by signaling to our bodies that we feel full and prompting our stomachs to empty more slowly.”

Now, as many of you know, I have tried every weight loss technique under the sun from the 12-3-30 method to the cabbage soup diet, to no avail. That was, until a friend of friend of a bridesmaid’s friend let slip to me at a wedding that she knew someone who was willing to part with a few “spare syringes” for FREE. After hearing this, I essentially turned into the Tasmanian Devil and was on this girl like white on rice. I immediately shipped medical grade coolers, originally intended for insulin, to her home so that she could send me the goods.

I am relatively early on my Ozempic journey, but as I once heard on Tiktok, Hot Girls Don’t Gatekeep. So, I’ll give you the low down. After taking the first shot on a Sunday afternoon, I went to work and ate a fairly decent amount (although it was already less than I typically would eat.) I got home and followed my usual routine, drank some wine, and went to sleep. Much to my own surprise and dismay, I was awoken from my sleep at 4 a.m. and immediately projectile vomited like the EXORCIST onto the floor four of five times. I then somehow found the strength to make it to the bathroom, and continued vomiting every morsel of food and liquid I had consumed since the dawn of time.

After that, I did not eat for two days straight. Not because I was traumatized from being on my hands and knees begging for my life in front of the toilet, but because I simply had no appetite whatsoever. Finally, I made my tried and true trailer trash meal, a can of Progresso Soup. I could only finish half.

In the time that I have been on The Big O, my body has somewhat adjusted to the dark arts coursing through my veins, and I’ve been able to force myself to eat small quantities once or twice a day. I frequently feel nauseous (mainly at night) and unfortunately, I haven’t been able to drown my sorrows in Pinot Noir because my body simply will not allow it.  However, as I’ve already lost weight in my giant breasts and giant face, I will probably keep taking it at least until my supply runs out. As Vincent Van Gogh once said, nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

OCEANGATE- (Not to be confused with Watergate, or, for my OG followers, GucciGate)

I wanted to cover one pop culture story in this post, simply because this one in particular had me on the edge of my seat for a 72 hour period. In fact, I’d venture to say that such a gruesome news story has not captivated our 50 States since the time Travis the Chimp ripped that ladies face off and then she hopped on Oprah’s talkshow wearing a beekeeper’s headdress and juicy tracksuit.

Anyway, as I’m sure you all know, 5 billionaires paid $250,000 to take a submarine the size of a minivan 12,500 feet below sea level to view the remains of the Titanic. Well, you get what you pay for, and they got the real Titanic experience. That’s for sure.

Although many believed that it was possible the vessel was trapped at the ocean floor in complete darkness, freezing temperatures, and slowly running out of oxygen whilst waiting to be rescued, we have now discovered this is not the case thanks to some debris that was found near the exploration site. Instead, it is being reported that approx. 100 minutes into their expedition the submarine, being steered by a $30 X-Box controller and jerry-rigged with some Walmart camping supplies, imploded and killed the passengers immediately. A tale as old as time.

Now, it has been announced that although “OceanGate has temporarily suspended all exploration and commercial operations,” the company is still very much up and running and is already planning their next voyage for the year 2024. I, for one, cannot wait to see what the next episode of Rich White People Doing Dumb Shit: Ocean Floor Edition has in store for us.

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