Wait, what.

I'm really embarrassed about blogging. You would think I would quit this, but I can't. It's like that movie about that gay cowboy and that other gay cowboy and how they want to quit each other, but they can't. It's like that with me and my blog. We're just two metaphorical gay cowboys who don't have the ability to quit each other. Except my blog doesn't have the ability to quit me, so it's even more depressing. It's just me, one metaphorical gay cowboy, not being able to quit an inanimate object. I'm not gay and I'm not a cowboy, but I think you get what I mean. Heath Ledger was so hot in that movie.



If you're into it, you can start by reading my posts about Mrs. Coco T, pleasure yourself to Super Close-Ups of Christopher Meloni, or really get to the root of how much of a mess I am by reading about Things That Shouldn't Give Me Anxiety, But Do. Or like, whatever. Just do whatever. I don't know how to do blogs. I don't know what you're here for.

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Nosy Neighbors

4 or 5 years ago I was home alone and decided to take a shower. I put my clothes in the laundry basket and then walked upstairs to the bathroom. Because I was home alone, you see, and the advantage to being home alone is that you can take off your clothes in a room entirely separate from the bathroom when you go to take your shower. Why bother with carrying dirty clothes back to the hamper?

As soon as I lock the bathroom door (I don’t care how alone I am, the door to whatever room I’m in must always be shut. It’s weird, I know, and I’m sorry.) I hear a knock at the door. I ignore it. The doorbell rings. I ignore it. The door OPENS. I PANIC. Then I hear my neighbor, say “Is anyone here? HELLO?!” and I am naked and scared. The screen door opens and I am whisper-screaming OH MY GOD and yell-thinking HOW DO I GET OUT OF THIS SITUATION and she is talking to my dog and walks up a few steps, down a few steps and then finally, finally leaves and I am frozen in place wondering why my neighbor just broke into my house.

After a few moments I run to the front door, lock it, and turn around and see what was so important that my neighbor felt the need to break in: She left us a box of Trader Joe food.

She continued to give us boxes of food from Trader Joes for the next year. We don’t know why and she never explained. The lesson I learned is to never be naked anywhere ever again, no matter what.

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  1. chasingalyx reblogged this from whydoihaveablog and added:
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