this sums up how i feel about everything

http://www.pizzaboomerang.com/

I faint at the sight of blood

You ever hear women who say, "I faint at the sight of blood"? It drives me fucking crazy. I mean, women menstruate, right? Therefore if they faint at the sight of blood, they're going to be constantly passing out every time they change a tampon. I like to imagine them going to the bathroom, seeing blood, passing out, and getting back up, seeing blood, passing out again, over and over and over, on an endless loop. It's fucking ridiculous.

cool. remember that one time i fucked up my face?

A little over a year ago I took out a piercing I had because I chipped my tooth on it eating a chicken chili verde burrito on my birthday (thanks for nothing BRANDON). Tonight, I put the piercing back in. Why? Because drinking by yourself rules and it seemed like a good idea...This is one of many things I'll regret in the morning lately, but who cares? Hurts like a bitch too. Happy fucking new year. "Cool," I said, crying...

Sometimes I get afeared

I don't like to walk down the street, alone at night, in the Biiiiiiig Ciiiiiiiity. Because if I was a rapist and saw me walking down the street, well, I'd probably rape me. Same with the murderings. Easy target, you know? Sometimes I'm scared to be me.

My next tattoo

I want to get a tattoo on my upper chest that says "not welcome". That way when people start bugging me or pissing me off, I can just pull down the collar of my shirt a little and say, "You see this?! It means NOT WELCOME!"

Visually, it would be stunning.

Advice from my mom:

Me: I'm going to hangout with one of my friends probably.

Mom: Is it a guy?

Me: Yeah.

Mom: He better not be making a booty-call.

Me: WHAT? No, Mom, he is not making a booty-call.

Mom: Good. Because that's not allowed. You can't have guys making booty-calls on you.

Me: OHMYGOD. Mom. What if I make a booty-call? Is that allowed?

Mom: Yeah. That's fine. You can make the booty-calls. You should hang a cow over your bed too.

Me: What are you talking about 'hang a cow over my bed'?

Mom: It will remind them that the milk isn't for free.

The Infamous Sandwich Texts

I only did one cool thing over the course of my recent break-up. In a moment of weakness I sent a text that I instantly regretted, which spurred The Infamous Sandwich Texts. This is a transcription of the only thing I did during that whole pile of shit that's actually worth talking about. YOU'RE FINALLY WELCOME. (and I was actually starving. so.)

Completely one-sided and all me:

11:26pm

Come over. I miss you.

Eh. Never mind. Moment of weakness. I have a sandwich here that promised me that it wouldn't lie to me and try to ruin my life.

12.39am

But seriously. I could use a sandwich.

No whole grain mustard tho cuz that shits for yuppies.

I don't want to be your friend. I'm just trying to get a sandwich out of you.

I have to admit to you that throughout this relationship I've been using you for sandwiches and ice cream. I'm a fucking asshole.

But seriously. Where the fuck is my sandwich?

2:04am

I will settle for pizza, but I won't be happy.

You could compromise with a pizza sandwich. If there's a meatball on there tho, you're a dead man.

2:15am

And don't bother with chips. That shits for losers.

Unless we are talking British 'chips'. In which case--bring it.

A salami sandwich would be fine. No Swiss tho. Cuz it smells like feet and mice made the holes.

Sometimes you don't appreciate the sandwich you ate at 11:30 and you need another one. WITHOUT MEATBALLS plz.

2:31am

I'm starting to feel like I should've started this whole thing off with: I'm going to kill myself if I don't get a sandwich. I would have gotten better results.

*some people* think they don't owe anyone an early morning sandwich. And that's a Sad Fucking Fact in this country.

Even a homemade sandwich would be fine it it was poison free. I don't know what your problem is.

You know what kind of sandwiches I like. I don't know what's so hard about this.

I'm really surprised that you're such a sandwich republican. It's a fucking weird side to take if you ask me.

I'm just saying that if you happened to come across a sandwich, I could use one. I remembered you to be a lot more giving when it comes to sandwiches.

2:46.am

I want to make a sandwich Hitler joke but I don't want to get in trouble.

I wouldn't beg you for a sandwich. But I would say, 'give me a sandwich'. Just so we're clear here.

Just a warning: sandwich cookies are not actual sandwiches. I'm not fucking around here.

I don't know when you started being all anti-sandwich. I warn you that you WILL lose friends over it. But no one ever listens to me.

Adventure girl makes a mess

I've been off the charts with shenanigans lately. And since I'm a storyteller, I'll divulge...

A friend of mine invited me to go see a double feature and the movies seemed swank, so I was like, 'Hell yeah! I'll bring the wine!' My friend brought the food, and we proceeded to drink one bottle during the first movie...We sneaked, we laughed, we drank, it was good.

The second movie started and I was all excited, because it was the main movie that I wanted to see. The opening credits rolled, I pulled the second bottle of wine out of my bag, fun size twix in my mouth, things couldn't be better...Until, the full, unopened bottle of red wine slowly slipped from my fingers and completely shattered on the floor of the movie theater...

I lean over to my friend, "We have to fucking go. Now. Now. We have to go. Let's go. We need to get the fuck out of here." My friend asks, "...was that the empty bottle...?" Me, "No. Can't you smell it? Shit. Let's. Go."

As the 30 other people in the theater begin to ascertain which idiot broke glass during the movie, we make a plan to bolt in ten minutes. During that time frame, I pull a $5 bill out of my bag and write "sorry" on it about 10 times, then place it on top of the broken wine bottle. It's called 'doing the wrong thing the right way'. I only wish I could have dropped a $20...

I go to the bathroom. A few minutes later my friend meets me in the lobby. Drunk, I use my best straight face as I loudly fake a phone call in the silent lobby, "WHAT?! When? Is it serious? The HOSPITAL? No, I'm at the theater, I'm leaving right now. Which hospital? I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Bye." We walk out with serious, studious expressions on our faces...

They'll never suspect me...

It's called 'saving face'. Also, these kinds of things are just becoming a normal weeknight for me...

Lesson, not learned.

Poor decision making...

Recently I've developed the habit of going out and getting all crazy on my 'Fridays'. This may involve bars, karaoke, house parties, having people over or staying out all night. I usually just wait to see what the night brings...I am burning the candle at both ends. And what a delightful light it brings...But in the midst of this chaos, I am also dutifully seeing my therapist, so that I stay on track with my real-life shit. Which brings me to my story...

I make my therapist appointments for my day off...And on my day off, I usually seem to be recovering from severe partying. So, I biked to my therapists office with a hangover to beat all. Why did I bike there? I have no fucking idea. I like to think I was still drunk at 4pm. Maybe...So, I have my water, and I tell her, "Just so you know, I don't feel well. Too much last night, toooooo muuuuccchhh." I blabber on for about 20 minutes and suddenly I'm like, 'shit. imma barf in here.' I stand up, freaking out, and I'm like, "Where's the bathroom?" She tells me and I'm running down the hall hiccup-barfing...I make it to the bathroom without much incident and proceed to violate the toilet...After a few minutes in the bathroom I try to make myself look 'presentable' which only involves me staring at my reflection in the mirror, then undoing my hair to cover the water/barf? splatter on my shirt. You better believe that I'm a classy fucking lady, potential barf splatters don't fly in my book.

So, how did I preserve my upstanding reputation? With a joke of course. I sauntered right back into that room and I was like " WOW! I feel SO much BETTER!" I'm okay with it. I'm paying her not to judge me.

(But seriously, lesson learned).

Life goals and shit

I'm not very good with the follow through of life goals. Except one, that I've been following through with for most of my life. That life goal is to never get stung by a bee again. I realized today that the last time I got stung by a bee, I was probably in fifth grade, and I was like 'never again assholes', or probably more like 'never again stupid jerks'. (I didn't develop a foul mouth until about 4 years later). But I've actively been on the watch for bees ever since. I heard that bees are dying out. That doesn't make me feel that bad because I think bees are little monsters. I even had a giant bee on my foot this summer, which made me not go outside for about 3 weeks, but it didn't sting me. So. I fucking win.

I'm going to bee really pissed if I get stung now that I've written this though. I hate jinxing myself, but as a warning to the world, bees get all fucking crazy in the fall cuz they know that they're going to die after the frost. So, everyone beeware.

I hate the bus

I hate the bus so much. So, so much.

Yesterday I was on the bus and the windows had condensation on them. I was watching this kid wiping the condensation off the window, then I realized that he was doing it with a used band-aid. I almost threw up all over the place. Where was his parent? Sitting right there, not caring.

I have made a new promise to myself that the next time I need to get up/sit down on the bus or train and the person in the aisle seat doesn't get up, but just swivels over so that I have to squeeze into the window seat, that I am going fart right in their face. My ass is at their face level, and they are being rude. So, they get a fart from me to show how equally rude I can be. I'm so sick of the lowest of the low, grossies and jerks, on public transportation.

Luckily I'm getting a bike this week so I can avoid the turds for the next couple of months. But, seriously, the jerks on public transportation test my patience. And I am failing the test. Failing with a saved up fart. So, watch out Chicago.

Spider germz

So. How many germs does a spider have on it? Because I smoked a re-fry that a spider walked on...Also, this is still not the grossest thing I've done to get some nicotine in me...

In which children don't get movie references

The other day two ten-ish year-old girls came through my line. They were buying milk, eggs and fabric softener. HA! No, actually they were buying various things that kids normally don't buy. Like milk and other shit. Anyway, I didn't see a parent around or anything and they had a $20 bill, and since their total was more than $20, they had to take a couple of things off...No big deal...So I ring them up, give them their change then lean in and ask them, "So, you guys, you're not in some type of Home Alone situation where your parents went on vacation and forgot to bring you with, right?" So then these girls just narrow their eyes, look at me and say, "Our parents...are at... HOME". And that's when I realize that they probably didn't get the reference and I was coming off like a creeper. But I still think their parents went on vacation and forgot them at home. For the record.

`_´

http://xkcd.com/943/

And then I fell in love with my gynecologist...

So on top of an already horrible and awkward couple of weeks, I decided to go get my clean bill of health, and I put in a rush order for it. Mostly for peace of mind (I have no idea how far the lies went), but also because I felt like being proactive should be a new goal for me, and mainly because makin' the rounds, and getting the STD/STI (what do the kids call it these days?) tests is some sort of marker.

So...yay for me.

Basically, they had to fit me in with some doctor that I'd never seen before, which is fine, but I've never seen a dude gynecologist, so I was a little like '...okay...I guess...', in the end, I wanted to get this stuff out of the way fast and if the price I had to pay was some dude poking around down there, well, it's not like that's never happened before. So, like so many things in life, I went for it.

So, I'm sitting in the room, in a gown made for a 600 lb man, wrapped up like a giant burrito, looking like a major turd (don't worry kids I did take a shower, I'm not that bad), expecting some old doctorly looking dude to walk in, and WTF kids, this talldarkandhandsome, age appropriate, not-too-professional, guy walks in and I'm just like, "SERIOUSLY?! UGH. Can things get any worse? Why can't he be weird or uggo or old or SOMETHING?!"

I gave myself about 1.5 seconds to wrap my mind around it. More than anything else at the gynecologist, you just end up being uncomfortable and embarrassed, and if you're me, then you say about 10 stupid things about nothing and act like a freak, don't worry, I didn't disappoint. For instance I started out one sentence with "Can I just be frank and kind of gross?" Which made him laugh...IMADEHIMLAUGH, IMADEHIMLAUGH, IMADEHIMLAUGH! +1 for meeeeeee!

Do you think he at least wants to be friends? JK. I don't have time for that shit.

I growed them for you!

Not really. I did grow my nails really long these past few weeks. Not for you though. For myself. Just to see what it was like to be a lady. They were strong, they didn't break, not even at work. I had my doubts. It was an experiment of sorts.

But I can now say, seriously, long nails are sick. In a bad way. Like, kinda gross with stuff getting under them (don't try to smash hamburger up or anything). And, just a pain in the ass. I guess dudes don't really understand this because they never get very long nails, but honestly, you're not missing anything.

I couldn't type. I had to be careful with everything. Like sex stuff and making doubled up paper bags at work, opening boxes and scratching itches. What a fucking joke. I don't understand women and their desire for long nails, being a 'woman' and trying it, I've discovered that it's some serious bullshit.

Every time I looked at my hands I was like, 'ew, um, are these actually my hands?' And the answer was 'no, these aren't my hands, these are the hands of a freakshow'. Am I glad that I did it? I guess, but I'm never doing it again. EW. I actually had to cut them twice cuz the clippers couldn't handle the immensity of my extension.

I'll never be a fancy lady. Never.

A moment at a family party

Me, drunk, eating a plate of pasta salad. I place it precariously upon the table, promising myself that I will be careful to not spill it--


FLLUUUGGG!!! I JUST SPILLED A WHOLE PLATE OF PASTA SALAD ON MY LAP!


Me (speaking sadly, as if I've given up on life): "Great now I've got pasta salad on my vagina."


Best part? I only spilled it ON TOP of my long shorts, but my Dad was still like "I'm out of here!"


I'm bringing vagina's back baybee.

HA HA! I went tanning!?

So. Today I had the opportunity to go tanning (for free). And. I. Took. It.

I've never EVER been in a tanning bed before. I've laid out in the sun, randomly, at different points in my life, but I've never cared enough to get a tan-line, or keep up with anything at all.

And this sounds insane, I know it sounds insane...But last year my mom BOUGHT a tanning bed for her HOUSE. I was like, 'That's weird, don't do it...'. But no one listens to me ever. So, it happened.

Now, my mom uses the tanning bed, and my sister does too, but neither of them (somehow?!) look like mandarin chicken yet, so I guess they both actually do know how to moderate themselves. I had my doubts in the beginning.

But today, maybe because of Jersey Shore, maybe because of pure curiosity, maybe because I wondered what it was like to be a 'real woman', I jumped in and fake'n baked myself. And it was life-changing.

Not really life-changing, actually, but weird. First I used some lotion which made me smell like pure summertime. Then I had to put on some weird glasses that suction-cupped my eyes to death. After that, I tried to relax. Yeah, but I couldn't. Because I was all like:

'You are getting RADIATED!'
'YOU ARE GIVING YOURSELF SKIN CANCER ON PURPOSE!'
'I CAN FEEL THE CANCER GROWING!'
'MY BODY FEELS WEIRD ON CONCAVE PLASTIC!'

I had to remind myself that once in a tanning bed is not going to give even the canceriest of cancer victims a 'final push' over that edge. As of twelve hours later, I do feel a little warm on the skin front, but not any worse than spending thirty minutes in the bright summer sun. And it brings me that much closer to the Jersey Shore life. I'm kidding...OR AM I!?

And don't judge me too much. I was curious for an ENTIRE YEAR!

A conversation about Jersey Shore...

I am always jibber-jabbering at anyone and everyone who will listen, unfortunately for him, it usually happens to be my boyfriend. So, yeah, the season premier of Jersey Shore happened the other day and it was on my mind, so of course, I was thinking about reality tv, and what that means...


Me: What would you think if your kid was Snooki and ended up being a reality tv star?

Boyfriend: ...I would be very disappointed...

Me: What if your kid ended up being Jwow?

Boyfriend: I would molest it...

Me: What if your kid was The Situation?

Boyfriend: I would kill it.


I hope our future child is not a reality tv star...Unless our future child ends up being Snooki, because Snooki rules and I don't care if my that disappoints my boyfriend...


If I could actually learn life lessons (which I refuse to do) I would learn to stop it with the hypothetical situations...Says Mike Hypothetical The Situation...

A cat video for you!