So what are the happenings? No, not that movie where spoiler alert, all the plants are responsible for everyone committing suicide. Here…are the happenings:
1. I licked about 200 envelopes this morning and am fairly certain I will never taste anything again. Some bitch comes in and informs me that I could have used a wet sponge. Great, I’ll just start about 199 envelopes ago, but since I only have 15 left I am going to continue using my fucking dried out, worn down, will never experience ice cream to the fullest extent again tongue.
2. I am now a coffee drinker. My therapist always starts out with what are supposedly easy questions like how are you, how’s your day, what’s new with you. All I could think to say was,
“I drink coffee now,”.
I drink coffee because coffee wakes me up in the morning without being a bitch about it, doesn’t tell me I’m a pushover, doesn’t show up at my apartment unexpectedly pretending we’re friends, doesn’t assign stupid paper airplane projects, doesn’t fuck up the nails I just painted with its long furry tail and…wait, what are we talking about? Oh yeah, coffee. It does sometimes burn my tongue, but I think I like that now because it reminds me I still have one after did I mention licking 200 fucking envelopes.
3. I went to the bar last night and started talking to one of my friends about this girl he is dating. It was awful because everything he was saying about her felt like everything any of my ex-boyfriends would say about me. I was like…Fuck I am perfectly comfortable in my own shoes, so I guess I don’t really need to put on yours now do I? Despite the fact that my shoes had given me a blister the size of Alabama forcing me to limp around the pool table like a drunk rapper, I really had no desire of putting myself in his shoes and seeing things from a perspective other than my own. Fuck my good for nothing, “I told you so” last blog post title (See Post: It’s All A Matter of Perspective Really.)
4. I started watching the new season of American Horror Story with my high school friend Julie (fuck she needs a nickname) and her sister Theresa and realized immediately what a bad idea that was. I can barely say the word clown, much less watch a show that revolves around a clown murderer whose holding a young, pretty girl captive. I called my roommate Connor just to make sure he would be at the apartment when I got back, because there was no way I could be alone in that creepy, creaky old loft apartment after watching 45 minutes of commercial-free psycho clown. Connor was like, “Why didn’t you just stop watching the show?” like I was some idiot. I was like, “I don’t know Connor, maybe because I already attached myself to 1-3 characters and identified myself with 1-2! Don’t you know I have to get a return on my emotional investment?”
5. I have been having a lot of unanswered questions these days. Like, can I watch both Gilmore Girls and How I Met Your Mother on Netflix intermittently or is that going to be too damaging for my fragile emotional state? Is this drapey necklace with my step-dad’s Audioslave tee shirt too fashion forward? Is this ‘Bama sized blister on my foot ever going to go away? Oh yeah and is that cute guy I messaged on Facebook really going to come to my Halloween party? Guess that slipped my mind…I am usually not one of those girls who develops long-lasting cyber crushes but I have become one of those girls who develops long-lasting cyber crushes. Love at first sight for me is long hair and mutual Facebook friends. I was pretty upfront about my creeper status and he seemed interested enough to come hang out so I guess I’ll take a chance on…his name is Chance. I’m taking a chance on Chance…on chance on chance on chance on chance on chance…sorry it’s a vicious cycle.
6. All my so-called independent, girl power, feminist friends seem to want to talk about is marriage and kids…which if you know me at all, you know I find very uncomfortable. Kids well…See Post: Slim To None…Those Are The Chances. Marriage. I don’t know it just bugs me. There I was sitting in a room trying to explain to 3 lovesick girls why I did not want to get married. They all sat there telling me about how their parents had been married 20 something years and I was like…My mom’s been married 3 times, so yeah. CASE IN POINT. What actually bothers me the most about marriage is calling someone my husband. I HATE the word husband. I asked Julie if I could call him my musband instead. She was like, “You could call him your forever boyfriend,”. I see what she did there. Never boyfriend forever boyfriend…real funny! But actually yeah, forget husbands and musbands, I could totally be into a forever boyfriend.
7. I have a super fun weekend planned that is going to combine A Bug’s Life with Divergent minus the dystopian society if you can imagine. Can’t wait to tell you all about it!
Skeeze of the day goes to my friend at the bar for reminding me that being a GF (good friend) is hard and I suck at it.