Tuesday, May. 18, 2004 | 12:00 PM

Friday night Matt and I went to Johnnie D�s for the Vallhalla Kittens/ Corin from the Pills/Paula Kelley Orchestra show.

It ruled.

And afterwards we went over to Paula�s house.

The whole time I was there, all I could think of was,

I�m drinking scotch with Paula Kelley. HOLY SHIT.

She and her husband invited Matt and I over for dinner, too. How sweet is that?

Last night Matt and I had a very very VERY good talk, and I think I had blown things out of proportion. I tend to spend too much beating myself up.

Yesterday my eating was out of fucking control.

I had for breakfast:

3 eggs

potatoes

bacon

sausage

for lunch:

a monte cristo sandwhich

french fries

Then I had the hugest sugar craving ever so I had sour patch kids and a hershey bar AND a regular coke. I NEVER drink regular coke.

Then I drank way too much sangria and white wine and then I had french fries.

Then I threw up.

Needless to say, today I feel like ass.

I have a doctor�s appointment this afternoon, where I will say�

Hi. I have an eating disorder and I want to get better. I can�t top swinging from starving myself to bingeing and (sometimes) purging and I�m still fucking fat because of this goddamned PCOS and I don�t know what the hell normal eating is.

But the thing is, I want to get better but I don�t want to go to some fucking twelve step bullshit.

Le sigh.

Everything is so good in my life right now. Why can�t I just enjoy it and not be so fucking fucked up.

Poor Matt. I do my best to hide the worst of it from him. He�s already worried enough about me.