I love that my phone now auto-corrects my text messages by changing actual words into the word skeeze. I’ll be like…”Hey, we should get a vanilla shake!” and my phone changes it to “Hey, we should get a vanilla skeeze!”
Better yet, it changes words into the word fuck. I’ll be like…”Sorry I can’t work tonight, you’re out of luck!” and my phone changes it to “Sorry I can’t work tonight, you’re out of fuck! I am like 98% comfortable with the new meanings of those phrases.
Moving on. I’ve been searching for a good transition phase to separate my independent rants within the same post, so I am testing out different ones. Anyhow…
My blog has been a little bland lately, as opposed to the pumpkin spice latte I have yet to drink this Fall, so I have been brainstorming ways to spice things up again. This involved a pen, paper, small Indian man and a bicycle…but in the opposite order if you can imagine. Just to give you a sneak preview, here are some of the things you have to look forward to…
Why I Wish I Were Asian…You Do The Math
How I Pick What to Wear In the Morning…The Only Time Being Black Is Considered An Advantage
Things That Make Laugh…Including But Not Limited To Running In Backpacks
Lots of good things in the near future.
I digress. My therapist suggested I get a white board and make a big to-do list for my master’s applications. I was like…”Great idea, I’m just gonna spin off that and bounce some ideas off you too. What if I get a white board and make a big list of Halloween movies I should watch?” She suggested I was avoiding something and I was like…”You’re right, celebrating World Vegetarians Day just felt wrong after I had that burger last night ya know? But I really liked your idea about the white board and the Halloween movies!”
Her next suggestion was that I take 5 minutes each day to focus on my breathing. I was like…”But what about my master’s applications?”. She’s the one encouraging avoidance!
Do you think blogging about therapy violates the confidentiality clause? Like what happens in therapy stays in therapy? It’s all very hush hush. I wonder how many secrets lie behind those close doors of my Barbie-resembling therapist? What if she knows about area 9, the real reason Martha Stewart got arrested or where Tupac has been this whole time!
So I saw my never boyfriend last weekend. I didn’t even have time to process how I felt about it because everyone was so busy leaning on me. Everyone has been telling me how strong I’ve gotten lately which is really confusing for me because I can’t even carry all my groceries in with one trip ya know? Now that it’s processing time, I’ve decided I’m 3/4 okay with it.
3/4 of me is like…I’m over that skeeze. I don’t even want to watch netflix with him anymore. Not at all. But 1/4 of me is all like…Can he not be with an uglier girl right now? Like what is with her legs? They are abnormally long.
He actually carried her over his shoulder out of the bar I saw him in, which didn’t make me jealous in the slightest. Especially since I can only think of one time where he carried me over his shoulder like that. It was my last birthday when the Fire Whisperer (FW) got me drunk and tried to kiss me, so I drove to the Never Boyfriend’s (NB’s) apartment and started puking in his yard.
The sad thing is, the most uncomfortable part of the evening was not spending my birthday with an ex, driving drunk, puking or ruining my chances with both of them, but was actually the state of my nipples on such a cold night in a sheer tee shirt ya know?
Although I’m wildly convinced that both the FW and NB have seen and are in general agreement with the shape of my nipples, it really makes me question why I was not wearing a bra that night. Just why?!
On the other hand, I ended up on the elevator at work last night with this really attractive guy who had just bought and was eating a bag of jalapeno flavored cheetos from the vending machine. It would’ve been great if he hadn’t almost gotten smashed by the elevator doors because I didn’t hold it for him. The worst part was that all I could think to say was how one time my leg was almost crushed by the very same doors then proceeded to ask him if his life just flashed before his eyes.
He did, however, ask how my semester was going, which I assume had nothing to do with the 10 charming phrases I had prepared to say before he almost died and everything to do with the black push-up bra and skinny jeans I was wearing.
I am thoroughly convinced that there is nothing I can’t do in my black skinny jeans. Seriously? Just tell me something I can’t do! Spoiler Alert: I will do it.
I wasn’t even offended by how loudly he was crunching the cheetos, because it strangely made me more secure about my nipples and entirely less comfortable with my puking. It’s all a matter of perspective really.
I spent the rest of my night pawning caramel filled twizzlers off on my coworkers because when I love something I have to share it with the whole world! I even threw one at Daniel while simultaneously yelling at him to stop saying thank-you in such a melancholy way. He has this crazy death stare every time I tell a good joke that rivals the way I imagine George Bush looks every time he…nevermind.
So that was my night in a nutshell…in a shell of nuts…excluding the cashews because I really don’t like those.
I have been in this crazy awesome mood lately because
1) It has been raining and I love love love being caught in the rain. I’m always wearing my trench coat and it’s all so very Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Sometimes I consider yelling Cat just in case anyone gets the reference.
2) My taste in music has drastically improved from its already awesome stature, which I 7/10 attribute to my roommate Connor and 3/10 attribute to my black skinny jeans.
3) I got paid Friday. I’m not fully capable of “rolling in it,” “making it rain on some hoes,” or “flexin,” but I definitely can handle an unexpected dinner date at Taco Bueno given the opportunity.
My skeeze of the day goes to the drunk guy at the bar last weekend for trying to drag his finger down my chest. Luckily, my friend Joe ummm…took care of the problem.
FYI: Leaving a comment on this blog will not put you at risk for Ebola, has virtually no influence on the ice bucket challenge, and will not indicate you are an Adrian Peterson fan…so there’s that.