While spacing out in front of my laptop, I mindlessly scratched my armpit and remembered something really embarrassing which made me lean forward, clutch my face and moan “why can’t I just be a normal human being?”
- This is why I have a piece of duct tape over my webcam on my laptop. PS, I’m not kidding — I have a piece of duct tape over my webcam. Did you read that story in the news about that guy who RUINED LIVES by spying on people via their webcam? Not only does he catch them masturbating and crying, but the paper tells SOCIETY that he caught these victims masturbating or crying. WHO IS THE REAL JERK HERE? Well, the spying creep, I guess, but still. The paper doesn’t come off looking too great, either.
- I don’t know, I guess that’s the only thing I have to say about that. I just don’t want anyone catching me scratching my armpit because I would never do that in public. I grab my face in embarrassment and moan embarrassing, depressing things in front of whoever will listen, though.
- Honest question: Would you want that guy — who was wheelchair bound, PS. Not that it matters. I’m just telling you for visual purposes — what if that wheelchair bound webcam spying creep was spying on you? If he only had visual of your face in front of the computer, would you rather he watch you crying or masturbating? Actually, no, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. But think about it. Now think about how the newspaper will tell everyone about it. First it was just one creep, now it’s everyone. It’s a whole bunch of creeps, plus your uncles and your hair dresser and even The President if he happens to StumbleUpon a link later on in life.
- This stopped being a list after 1, but I still kept the list format because I’m a Ride or Die bitch. (I can’t even seriously say that. I’m not Ride or Die. I’ll usually exit a situation very quickly if I start to feel even a little bit more uncomfortable that I normally feel. One time, when I was in high school, I went over the apartment of the guy my friend was seeing. He was in his early 20s and had his own place. We were impressed, because we were young idiots who didn’t realize that really we should’ve just been uneasy and disgusted he was hanging out with us. After about an hour of hanging out, he got a phone call. He answered a couple questions with “15 minutes,” and a street name. After he hung up, he motioned for me to stand up. I did, and then he pulled back the cushion to the easy chair and took the gun. It was just sitting there, in the middle of the slightly sagging yellow cloth that did little to disclose the shape of springs. He dropped the cushion and it landed without a noise. My own head was, of course, creating the most noise a person can create in their own head as I thought-screamed “I WAS JUST SITTING ON A FUCKING GUN? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I GUESS THAT’S KIND OF COOL BUT ALSO LETS GET OUT RIGHT NOW.” So I’m not a Ride or Die bitch, because that’s what I assume rappers are talking about. A girl who can be around illegal guns. I’m not one of them.)