Wait, what.

Just go get one, especially if you have a heavy flow (sorry for saying heavy flow). For the first time of my menstruating life, I didn’t wake up on day 2 of my period and need to change my sheets (sorry for saying menstruating life). Panties will stay unstained from here until the rest of my life (sorry for saying panties). 

In the interest of full disclosure, because a lot of you guys asked me to talk about it if I happened to use it, and also because I have no shame: it takes some practice getting it in, but after I got it in right the first time, I’ve had absolutely no trouble. You can’t feel it any more than a tampon. I was told to expect failure the first cycle due to human error and to wear a pad just in case, but I’m apparently really good at periods because this shit works perfectly. 

You’re barely going to believe me, but taking it out and emptying it is a lot less messier than changing a tampon, which was my end goal all along. I just want to pretend I don’t have my period, and the Diva Cup is the perfect way to do that.

Also I’m calling it the Cunt Cup from now on because I don’t want to stick anything in my vagina if it reminds me of Mariah Carey, and also because  I adore alliteration and swearing.

Why, when I was at Panera Bread tonight trying to read a book, was there a man talking loudly at his cell phone about how he was recently inducted into his school’s Hall of Fame and that it was the best night of his life?

How does one not realize that Panera Bread is only for sad, quiet people who need to do homework while eating unnecessary Mac and Cheese?

Jerome, if I can’t make you live in words, if you are only the dim evocation of a face under a fringe of hair, and the others too, Alice and Christian and Roderigo, if you are names without a nature, it’s not because I don’t remember, no, the opposite is true, you are remembered in me as an endless stirring and turning. But it’s for this precisely that you must forgive me, because in every story of obsession there is only one character, only one plot. I am writing about myself alone, it’s all I know, and for this reason I have always failed in every love, which is to say at the very heart of my life.

He sits in the empty room, crying.

In a Strange Room, Damon Galgut

I wish I had something intelligent to say about this book. I’m only halfway done, but I have the most curious response to reading it. I keep thinking that it’s boring, that I am bored, but I cannot put it down. 

If you are a smart person, you said “yes, Caragh, I do want to win $50.”

There is a website called nomorerack.com which offers thing on sale. They also offer things for free if you get enough friends to sign up with your referral link.

If 500 friends sign up, you get an iPad 2

If 700 friends sign up, you get a TV.

If 1250 friends sign up, you get an even better TV that will make the first TV feel like he is lesser than, and with a smaller penis. 

I want a fuckin’ iPad, you guys. 

So if you want to click on this referral link and sign up, you will be entered in a contest that I am making up where I use a random number generator and send a random person $50.

You DO NOT have to give your credit card information to the site.

If you google around for this website, you will find more unpleasant reviews than positive ones. Don’t pay attention to those, because you do not need to give your credit card information. Seriously. You don’t even have to pay attention to the website after you’ve signed up. All you need to do is sign up with my referral link, then e-mail me your name with “I want $50, you dumb idiot” in the subject line to whydoihaveablog@gmail.com, and then maybe you’ll win $50.

Obviously you could lie and say you signed up when you didn’t, but that would be dumb because if not enough people sign up, I’m not giving anyone $50 because, duh.

If I somehow manage to get 1000 for the MacBook, I’ll send you $100. Holy crap, right?!

If $50 or $100 interests you, it might serve you well to reblog this so more people sign up. Also, lolololol, I can’t believe I’m doing this either. Except yes I can. I am very greedy and love material goods. 

Recap to potentially win $50:

1. Sign up with my motherfucking referral link.
2. E-mail whydoihaveablog@gmail.com with your name and the words “I want $50, you dumb idiot” in the subject line
3. Masturbate to the thought of being $50 richer. 

Nothing pains me more than not having the guts to comment on the engagement photos of unsuspecting women who are about to marry the most closeted gayest gay dude who ever did gay stuff with another gay dude.

Penis and balls stuff.

Every year there is some mysterious rogue human being sitting at my grandmother’s Thanksgiving dinner, and every year I side-eye them, trying to figure out if I’m related, until our inevitable introduction that confirms that I am not. 

Today I saw a 3 year old in a pretty dress sitting by herself in the living room. I stopped in my tracks and stared at her. Who is this child? Is this my cousin’s baby? Well, no, Caragh, that is not your cousin’s baby because your cousin’s baby was born two days ago and this child is walking. Do babies walk now? Do they do that? No. How long can I stare at her before we both get weird about it? I wish I was a toddler so I can steal that dress.