June 2009
I’VE DONE NOTHING OF NOTE SINCE COMING HOME TODAY, except watch hours of Michael Jackson interviews.
I originally felt little grief towards hearing about his death, because I have this sort of “thing” with men who act inappropriately towards children in that I don’t really care about them at all.
In any case, it’s incredibly sad to see a grown man walking around...
I wish I could google “Did I throw away that fan last fall or did I put it the shed?” instead of having to walk in there and inevitably be touched by a spider.
"Oh, you."
When you send me texts that are witty, one-liner run downs of how drunk you were the previous night and what (or who) you did, or when I receive a short (and vague) text that merely hints at just how crazy-mixed-up-totally-out-there your life is, I can’t help but think how fucking sad it is that you feel the need to share these things with me. That your only means of striking up conversation...
“Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. … Yes, yes, it’s the most...”
– Samuel Beckett (via whokilled)
PS,
I totally accidentally lied about not doing any laundry for three weeks. I just remembered I did a load like, 3 days ago.
I don’t mean to quote myself, but I found it pretty insightful and generally full of truth that today, while discussing the various states of mental diseases within my family to my cousin, I stated, “Our family is like a picture book version of the DSM-IV-TR.”
He replied with, “Caragh, people dream of having these stories to tell. We have so much fodder.”
And...
Every time I go to do something I really fucking hate, I start thinking about how I only have 60ish years left on this earth, and how very little of this really matters in the long run, and how NONE of this matters in the long, long run, and so that’s why I haven’t done any laundry at all in three weeks. Three. Weeks.
Really wish I didn’t take off my pants before I took a nap, because now I’m just going to have to put them back on before I go out and I CAN’T EVEN TELL YOU HOW MUCH THAT BOTHERS ME.
Day in, day out with this whole “clothing” situation we’ve created for ourselves. I’m glad we’re not walking around naked, I’M JUST SAYING THERE NEEDS TO BE AN...
The news of Michael Jackson’s death will bring delight to my six year old brother.
(I also guess I never wrote about the time my father googled a picture of Michael Jackson’s face on the computer and the kid saw it from across the room, shrieked, and started sobbing.)
I mean, here are some facts about Tommy Gunz, who...
He is not allowed at my house.
This means nothing, and lots of nice people have this, nice and SMART people, but I’m just putting it out there… He has crossed-eyes.
He told my mother that HIS mother was with a black guy and so he has two black brothers. One of whom was shot in the face and died.
30 minutes later my mother meets his brother.
Who is incredibly white.
My mother...
I know I’m trying to be a lot less judgemental lately, but I think there is a clear difference between ladies who wear their hair in a high ponytail and ladies who wear their hair in a low ponytail.
Neither is better or worse, but I will say this:
My sister is of the former group, had a baby at 16 and is currently dating a guy who the family thinks, AND THIS IS NOT A JOKE, we think he is...
Half an ounce for $65? Really? Really? Someone tell me why I paid 90 bucks for a quarter a few months ago?
What kind of scale is this person using? Half an ounce? Really? Have I ever even held half an ounce of weed in my hand? No, I haven’t, because I’m friends with very few potheads and, while (with the exception of the last month where I had no weed {except for those 4 days with the...
sade:
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Maps
Wait…they don’t...
My uncle has just given me the cardkey to the Marriott he’s been living in for the past several months because he is going on vacation until Friday night.
FREE BREAKFAST.
KING SIZE BED.
HOT FUCKING SHOWERS EVERY FUCKING DAY!!!! (for the next 3 days)
I just took a freezing cold shower. Freezing cold. If I had to guess, I would say the water defied science and was below 0 degrees Fahrenheit. I need scientists to come to my house and study this absolute phenomenon.
I managed to wash my upper body and shampoo my scalp and that was that. Fuck my split ends, those bitches are staying unwashed. Conditioner? Are you kidding me?
The only thing that...
“I’m going to make a cock-sized hole in your chest and fuck your heart.”
– An actor playing a crazy person on Reno 911! or the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard?
(Both. It’s both.)
White Whine?
Two hours later, with minimal help from my parents, I created a budget for them which just showed me how many thousands of dollars worth of credit card debt they are in. I did not dare look at the mortgage, because I am terrified of seeing how close we are to getting evicted. I could tell you the number of times I heard her call him a cocksucker and him call her a cunt, but I tried blocking it...
Am I entirely sure Jon Bon Jovi isn’t reading this? No, not ENTIRELY sure. Which is why I’ve created this letter:
Dear Jon Bon Jovi,
I once had an idea of making a movie called Ron Bon Jovi: The Brother Left Behind. Ron looks like you circa 1983, only chubby. And wears outfits comprised primarily of denim with a splash of leather.
But I digress, Jon, and want to know this:
You want...
I know everyone has sleeping problems, but...
Why is it the happier I am the less I am able to sleep?
Maybe not, maybe it’s coincidence. It probably is. Last night I was hoping to get to bed before 10 and didn’t get to bed until… 5 AM. An hour and a half before my alarm went off. I have been home for 2 hours and still do not feel tired enough to sleep. My mind is racing with a natural high.
You know, I don’t doubt...
(PS, I’m not seriously sad over this. I’m sort of happy about it, I guess. The Universe has assigned me a life of mediocrity because it knows I am a Living Life kind of person. I take it all and use it all. I boil down every bit of water until I’m left with a burning pan. Earth could not contain me if I was rich, hot and talented.)
The saddest thing is that I know in my heart of hearts I’ll never be rich because it would make me an awful person. I know it. Just like being hot would make me a slut-bitch and possessing any sort of talent at all would make me sickingly egotistic.
Planes, Trains & Automobiles (and buses.)
I officially hate public transportation a little bit more than I use to. While waiting for my plane, I spaced out and didn’t hear which rows they called to board. So I asked the man next to me who, naturally, turned out to be pretty much a huge fucking weirdo. He asked which row I was in and I said 23. Then he kept talking. And talking. And talking. And oh my god, what is wrong with you? Are...
Don’t even know who I’m going to be sitting next to for the next 5.5 hrs, but I hate them already.
Those goddamn filipinos.
Leaving for the airport in half an hour. High again. This was a dumb move.
Oh god someone just heard me talking to the slot machine. What have I become. 30 seconds ago I waas awesome
In the past hour I’ve won 130 dollars at 2 slot machines named “kitty glitter” and “she’s a rich girl!” I am awesome