TTFN

The most successful relationship I've had to date is that with my over-sized Tigger stuffed animal that I've had since I was a child. He sleeps with me every night and never asks me any questions. He's also a husky ginger, which, as many of you know, is my preferred type.


I'd also go for a skinny ginger, if he'd have me. (Kyle, if you're reading this, call me!!!!!!)

In college, I lived in a sorority with 45 girls. We all slept in the same room. Always naked, always pillow fighting, always exactly how you picture it. Except not really. On most mornings, my sisters could find me laying in bed with Tigger resting on top of me. Is that weird? They thought that was weird. I just like to be underneath something when I sleep. Listen, we don't need to talk about this anymore, alright? The point that I'm trying to make is that I'm going to Disney World this weekend. 

I Thought God Rested

On Wednesday and Sunday nights, the church next to my house screams in Portuguese about Jesus for 4-6 hours. Now, when I say "next to my house," I literally mean directly adjacent to my home, as in right outside my window. As in after the sermon is over, various people are yelling "Carlos!" into my bedroom. I don't know who Carlos is, but he is desired by many. He is also not in my room, so stop asking.


Tonight is Rosh Hashanah, and as a wannabe Jew, I feel entitled to some peace and quiet, but they will not cease. In response to the high-volume gospel, my roommate has developed a dependency on alcohol as she feels it necessary to drink a bottle of wine twice a week just to be able to fall asleep. She wants to file a complaint, but we're not sure if it's socially acceptable to formally complain about a church. However, these people are chanting until 1 in the morning on weeknights and that's fucking absurd. Do you think Jesus wants to be up all night listening to this bullshit? Doubtful. I read the Bible and he specifically said you should pray in a closet--quietly, privately, and not near my house. 

My Sorority Has a Last Name

Do you guys watch Sister Wives? It's like Hoarders except with humans instead of animals. This guy has 4 wives and 16 children. They do not appear to live in squalor but their lives sure are chaotic. Take, for instance, the fact that they were kicked out of the state of Utah on account of their lifestyle. Wait, isn't Utah also home to this guy?:

Right, right. 


Anyway, Kody and his clan had to relocate to Las Vegas, Nevada where they could practice their religion within a more accepting environment, one which embraces other moral practices, such as gambling and prostitution. 


The women in this show are constantly contradicting themselves. One minute they're talking about how much they love the relationship they're in and the next minute they're crying because someone else is pregnant with their husband's child. It's confusing.


You may ask yourself, why would anyone ever want to be a sister wife? Well, if you're going to ask yourself that, then you should also ask yourself this: What's worse: a sister wife or a cat lady? Hmm, polygamy doesn't sound so bad now, does it? My roommates and I have collectively agreed (or at least that's how I interpreted it) that we would all rather be sister wives than single for the rest of our lives. While it is slightly troubling that we would all be sleeping with the same man, we think the risk of disease is pretty low, so really what's the issue? Then again, it's also pretty clear to me that sister wife #4 has oral herpes (check it out). So, I guess I'm  going to hope it doesn't come down to polygamy, not only because it's illegal, but also because Mormons seem to really like kids (by that I meant having them, but you can really take that whatever way you want) and pregnancy is my absolute worst nightmare. 

Sufferage

The other night, my friend said to me, "You're like the son your father never had." I found this interesting because:
a) I have a brother, and
b) I also have a vagina. 
Allegedly, he was referring to my interest in sports (watching them, not playing them. The only sport I excel at is flip cup, and apparently that's not a real sport. I did used to figure skate, though, so I guess that was athletic. And, now you can all picture me like this:

except just slightly less Asian. I say slightly because I would like you to envision me with perfect hair, skin, and nails. This is still parenthetical, by the way). While I do love sports, they also make me cry*. And crying, I've been told, is pretty girly, so I've got that going for me. Other feminine qualities I possess:

• Irrational
• Bad driver
• Belongs in the kitchen

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Susan B. Anthony is a dick. If it weren't for her, I'd be vacuuming and drinking wine spritzers on my husband's dime by now. Although, I suppose I could be vacuuming right now. In fact, I absolutely should be vacuuming right now; I live in squalor: 

Whatever.


Perhaps it's not completely Susan's fault, but I'm still going to blame her because I like to project my problems onto others.  See?  I told you I was girly. 




*For more information, see the AL East standings and/or yesterday's Pats game.**
**I started writing this before the Sox's win against the Yankees last night, so I should give them a tiny little bit of credit. 

Winter Is Coming

Since I started watching Game of Thrones, it has consumed 75% of my thoughts. I dream about it nightly. It's one of the three shows I've ever cared about (also including Arrested Development and Always Sunny, which has significantly declined over the past two years). If you don't watch it, let me sum it up for you: It's medieval soft-core porn with bad-ass wolves and massive bloodshed. Also, dragons. This shit is off the chain and I can't even handle it.


I've also developed an inappropriate crush on her:

Now, I know I'm constantly worrying people think I'm a lesbian because I wear glasses, so I probably shouldn't be publicly proclaiming my attraction to a woman, but she fucking births dragons, okay?


Also, when I say I worry people think I'm a lesbian, that's not because I'm a homophobe -- I know there was some confusion about that with my last blog. I love the gays. I'm all about the gays. My own cat is gay:

I'm just hoping that one day a man will be attracted to me enough to marry me and make me his housewife so that I can  bake all day and also not have a job. 

Drum Roll Please

This is Boo. 

He's an asshole. 

But it's not his fault, OK? He was left on the train tracks as a child. Adopted by a drunk girl. Growing up in a single-parent household. Desperate for a father-figure.

He also has body image issues. Every morning, he can be found here:

Can you see the guilt in his eyes? I can't believe I ate the whole can. 

Sometimes his mom makes him run up and down the stairs. She does it out of love.

Or does she? 

Sometimes he poops just outside his litter box. This is to show her who's boss. Then she screams things at him like, "I wish I never had you!" But she doesn't mean it.

Later, he will let her pet him. She will feel loved. But, within seconds, he will scratch the mother-fucking-shit out of her. But she will always go back for more. And the cycle goes on and on. 

Re-entry Entry

"I'm back." - Me, 2008.


Skip ahead four posts and three years later and I think we can determine that that statement was FALSE. While I haven't actually written anything in quite a while, I think about blogging every single day. But, I also live with the constant fear that anything I write could be used against me, especially since I often say things that could be deemed  "politically incorrect" or "offensive" or "cunty." See? However, my roommate assures me that freedom of speech is still in the Constitution, so I should be safe. Then again, separation of church and state is also in there and I'm pretty sure that one gets overruled on a daily basis. So now you see my internal conflict first-hand. But still, I think I might give this another shot.


I may or may not be back.

my friend in korea: wanna know the funniest thing about korea?
me: yes, yes i do
my friend in korea: they believe, i mean really believe, that if you sleep in a room with the windows and doors closed and a fan on, you will DIE
me: haha wait why?
my friend in korea: can't figure that out. they say you'll suffocate - like it will create a vortex and suck up the oxygen. this is widely believed, reported on the news
me: i do this literally every night - since i was like 8 1/2.
my friend in korea: yeah i know like why hasnt one korean just tried it? and been like "fuck you guys im not dead." i think i should go on tv like david blaine and defy death.

All Aboard the Public Transit

So, I would describe my bus ride home today as subpar at best. Actually, I think a more accurate description would be terrifying. This is because a couple moments after I got on the bus so did a man whom I would diagnose a schizophrenic with a touch of Tourette's. He ascended the bus shouting, "shit! fuck! cunt!" and, although there was plenty of seating in the back of the bus, he opted to stand directly in front of me for the duration of my 20 minute ride home. I was pleased with this choice. Especially since, despite his respectable appearance, which included a black cafe-chic turtle neck, he carried with him a repugnant odor.


Tourettic outburst aside, when he began his nonsensical monologue, I gave him the benefit of the doubt that he was using some sort of blue tooth device as he was having an in-depth, one-sided argument. (Note to self: never use a blue tooth device if for no other reason than the fact that strangers will assume you're a schitzophrenic.) I shot him furtive glances, because there was no fucking way I'd look this man in the eye, and came to the conclusion that there was no blue tooth device involved. While I was more or less petrified of this man, I found his conversation pretty amusing. It started with a rant about gift cards and how he'd been selling them all day: "Fucking gift cards, cunt, shit." Then it progressed to someone slamming the door in his face: "Can you believe it? Slamming a fucking door in a the face of a hard working man." After he got over having a door slammed in his face, he reverted back to the topic of giftcards: "Do you have a gift card I can have? Thank you. Fucking shit." The whole time he was talking, I was thinking about how I should give him the Wendy's gift card that has been sitting in my purse for weeks. I decided that was probably a bad idea and instead silently prayed to myself that he would get off before my stop. Thankfully, my wish was granted. Upon exiting the bus, he yelled at everyone to "watch his fucking leg." Once he was off and the bus's doors were closed, I'm pretty sure I heard a unanimous sigh of relief. The bus driver looked at me and said, "you have to have a lot of patience to have this job" and, because I'm egocentric, I thought to myself, "I have to have a lot of patience to ride your fucking bus."


During my walk home, I briefly regretted my decision to sell my car and rely on public transportation for the next year until I remembered that driving through the city would turn me into the schitzophrenic with tourrettes as I'd constantly be shouting "fucking, shit, cunt" alone in my car at all the terrible drivers around me.

My Skin is Paper-thin

I recently had the worst experience at Dunkin Donuts. I was late (as usual) to meet my sister yet obviously still stopped to get a coffee. My lack of punctuality of course did not give me the right to be impatient; however, had I had hours of free time, I still would have wanted to shoot this man in the head. Perhaps I should have felt sorry for him as he was clearly experiencing early stages of Alzheimer's, but I did not, as I rarely feel sympathy or compassion for others.

As I neared the parking lot, I saw that the drive-thru line was piling into the street. Thinking it would save me time, I decided to actually get out of my car and go inside (this I normally oppose to as I generally like to limit human contact as much as possible). There was only one other person inside the Dunkin Donuts - an old man slowly nearing the counter. First, he ordered an ice tea "to go" with lemon and milk on the side. Many things puzzled me about this order: first, that he thought it necessary to specify that the beverage was "to go" as if there were more than one way to receive a drink at Dunkin Donuts. Second, that he wanted his milk on the side, which meant that the cashier had to give him two cups - one for the actual drink and one to hold the milk. Clearly, I immediately disapproved of this man, and my distaste for him steadily grew as he moved on to his second transaction. After he paid for his ice tea "to go," he asked the cashier to add $10 to his gift card. The boy behind the counter did so and handed the man a receipt to show the money had been added. The man glanced at the slip briefly and started arguing with the cashier that he did it wrong. So of course the boy had to go through step by step how he added the money to the guy's card, which, after minutes of negotiation, the man decided to accept. During this time, I questioned why the gift card was even necessary since the man never actually used it. People started lining up behind me as the man moved on to his third consecutive transaction. This time, he ordered a small coffee, paid for it (in cash), and then asked for the cashier to put it in a bag. He wanted his coffee in a fucking bag. I couldn't hold back my aggravation at this point and started complaning under my breath (under my breath actually means outloud so most people could hear but still passive-aggresively). After the cashier put the coffee in a bag, the man said "where's my blueberry muffin?" Um, you never ordered a fucking blueberry muffin! I screamed in my head along with, I'm sure, everyone else in the building. 15 minutes and four transactions later, the man finally packed up his things in multiple bags and moved on to a table. Again, I was puzzled since he had to emphasize about 490 times that he needed his ice tea "to go" and then opted to eat in.