Wait, what.

I don’t know what meth smells like because I’m a...

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 16:02:00 -0500

I don’t know what meth smells like because I’m a sheltered suburban 20-something. One of those words is a lie, but we won’t get into how my mother and uncle used to make me and my cousins play “Where’s Waldo”, only we called it “Where’s (Redacted)” and the object of the game was to drive around a neighboring city for an hour or so at a time, and whoever spotted our drug addicted, homeless aunt first won “Where’s (Redacted)?”. I don’t remember if the winner got anything, except the chance to see our parents scream and at our aunt to get in the car and enter a rehabilitation center

LOLOLOL.

Anyway, I’ve been putting this shit on my face every night and now my sheets and bath robe smell like what I assume meth smells like.

Maybe the next smelly thing I put on my face will remind me of the time my grandmother had to go into hiding with 10 minutes notice before she got an emergency custody order for her grandson! LOLOLOL.

You guys.

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 15:51:49 -0500

You guys.

This is now a Nightmare Blog.

Wed, 22 Feb 2012 11:44:00 -0500

Had a dream everyone I knew and loved fell victim to the Zombie Apocalypse, though it was more of an infection type of thing a la 28 Days Later. I watched as they began to feel hot, so hot they couldn’t stand it. They would lay in the snow just to get relief. Then they would start to decompose, their teeth turned pointy, and they would try to attack anything they could.

I watched my dogs die, my little brother die, my father die. I was left, alone. At this point I knew it was a dream, but I couldn’t wake up or control it. I just knew I had to find an ending. I searched around my house for an ending. Finally, I came across Zooey Deschanel carrying a plate of cupcakes. I was so surprised and happy to find another human being, especially one like Zooey.

Then I started to feel hot. My vision wavered with heat lines like I was staring at hot asphalt. I felt uncontrollable rage take over as my temperature rose. Zooey had no idea I had gotten infected, and I knew the dream was ending as everything slipped to black.

I woke up and saw I had missed my first class.

Also I had another dream that I didn’t get to go to Israel. This time it was because my professor was on a reality show.

Since you're basically the head of the Tumblr Mafia, I'm guessing it was you who put my cake in the LOL tag, and I just wanted to thank you for that. But also, are you trying to get into my pants, Caragh? Again? Is that what this is all about?

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 22:08:15 -0500

It’s really easy to be an Internet predator, you guys! All you have to do is be a Tumblr LOL tag person editor thing! Making your targets feel funny and safe is a great way to groom them into being yours! Next week: How many puppies in the van is the ideal number of puppies in a van?

It’s really hard to complain about how cold your fingertips are on Facebook when your...

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 21:36:00 -0500

It’s really hard to complain about how cold your fingertips are on Facebook when your childhood friend keeps updating everyone on the benefit being held for her little brother who was shot in a freak accident. Luckily there is you, Tumblr.

Today

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 18:02:57 -0500

Today

I think it should be perfectly acceptable to e-mail your professor before class starts and explain...

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 13:22:00 -0500

I think it should be perfectly acceptable to e-mail your professor before class starts and explain that you’re going to miss class because you’re afraid of everything. Everything on a tangible level (murder, rape, falling rocks, brain aneurysm, aortic aneurysms and, oh god, could you get an areola aneurysm? Could that happen? Here lies Caragh, passed away unexpectedly due to a burst artery in her right breast. How gross. Taylor Swift would never die that way. I’m probably going to die that way. I’m just going to die in the least attractive way possible and then my death won’t even make the papers.) and a visceral level (life is meaningless, I’m going to die one day and that will be it, someday all of this will be gone).

I’m going to class, of course. Not because I want to, but because I’ve already used up all my absences for the semester. All I know is that I had 16 minutes to get dressed, do my hair and my make-up, but now I only have 10 minutes because I had to write a stupid fucking blog entry about how I’m really bad at being a human being and also I worry about aneurysms happening in places that wouldn’t happen to Taylor Swift.

i know someone asian who eats fries with forks

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 23:46:45 -0500

WILD CARD! HOW LINSANE!!

I eat french fries with a fork... PS- I'm white.

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 23:42:43 -0500

The science is rolling in!

French Fry/Fork/Racist update:

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 23:42:16 -0500

Upon second inspection, it’s actually ziti. They’re eating it normally. Questions answered and crisis averted.

How am I ever going to marry a rich, handsome black man after seeing two people appear to eat french fries with a fork makes me assume it might be a “black thing”? That’s borderline racist. It might be full on passive racism.

Gonna take an ad out in the newspaper:

WANTED: SWF looking for handsome SBM with low self esteem and great jawline. Must not care if I’m racist and assume everything he does is a “black thing”. Things that could potentially be “black things”: the way you cook a Pop Tart, the way you walk to the mail box, the way you sit in the recliner, the way you turn pages in a book. Must love dogs and wear suits often.

And now I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering if eating french fries with forks is a...

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 23:31:25 -0500

And now I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering if eating french fries with forks is a “black thing” or if I just stumbled upon the Facebook album of a bunch of people who eat french fries weird and also they’re black and I guess I’m racist?

Someone asked me my life goal the other day and the only thing I could think to say was “make...

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 15:15:00 -0500

Someone asked me my life goal the other day and the only thing I could think to say was “make eye contact with Brad Pitt.” Now that I’ve thought about it, I realized that my life goal is to someday hold a conversation with someone and not constantly divert my gaze down and away from theirs because that’s what abused pit bull puppies do, not female human beings.

But then I feel like a fucking creep when I hold eye contact for a certain length of time. I don’t know. I just don’t understand other people. I just want to live in a village of dogs.

Whoever the fuck invented magnifying mirrors was a fucking cunt.

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 13:09:34 -0500

Whoever the fuck invented magnifying mirrors was a fucking cunt.

is louis ck your dad?

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 01:54:17 -0500

I know, right?

"Sometimes when I’m brushing my teeth, I’ll look in the mirror and I swear my reflection seems kind..."

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 00:37:20 -0500

“Sometimes when I’m brushing my teeth, I’ll look in the mirror and I swear my reflection seems kind of disappointed. I realized a couple of years ago that not only am I not super-skilled at anything, I’m not even particularly good at being myself.”

- Charles Yu, How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe (via bunkercomplex)

Have you ever gone to a counselor or a therapist? Anxiety disorders don't go away with willpower or time. If you have such high anxiety that it's affecting your life this much, then it's time to realize it's an illness to be treated.

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 22:09:16 -0500

GOT THIS MESSAGE LIKE A WEEK AGO AND GOT REAL ANGRY AND WANTED TO RESPOND TO IT WITH A PICTURE OF A WOMAN CRY-GAGGING WHILE NINE DICKS WERE STUCK IN HER MOUTH, BUT I DIDN’T WANT TO GOOGLE THAT AND HAVE IT INGRAINED IN MY BRAIN FOREVER, BUT ANYWAY, JOKES ON THIS PERSON BECAUSE TODAY I HAVE HAD ZERO ANXIETY BECAUSE I THINK I’VE VOMITED IT ALL AWAY. ANXIETY DOES GO AWAY WITH WILLPOWER AND TIME AND EXHAUSTION AND VOMIT.

On the bright side, I lost like 5 pounds! On the awful side, today I googled how to make sure my teeth don’t get gross from this every-other-day-nervous-vom-fest I’ve been experiencing (dental hygiene is important to me) and I ended up on a pro-bulimia message board!

(Also, the answer is rinse your mouth out with baking soda and water.)

I wrote for about 15 minutes today, so I rewarded myself with 30 minutes of staring at the ceiling...

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 17:09:00 -0500

I wrote for about 15 minutes today, so I rewarded myself with 30 minutes of staring at the ceiling and realizing that I’ve been so involved with anxiety these past few weeks (see: frequent vomiting) that I feel, for the first time in years, completely unanxious. My mind has temporarily given up. I’ve given all I could give to worries and wants. I think the breaking point was the nightmare I had last night: I was running late for my plane to Israel. I couldn’t decide what necklaces to pack, but I made it. No one could believe it, but I fucking made it. Then I ran off the plane for reasons I forget. The plane left without me. This was less stressful than the daymare I had yesterday where I imagined a doctor diagnosing me with skin cancer the week before my vacation. Would I tell anyone? Or would I go and live as if I didn’t know? I am only just now realizing how fucking crazy it is that I am having space out fantasies that involve me getting cancer before what I imagine will be the most out of world experience I’ll ever get to have.

Can’t take a good day without a bad one / Don’t feel just to smile ‘til I’ve had one

Then I spent 45 minutes of riding my brother’s new mini bike. The gas kind. A Harley, but with primordial dwarfism.

“Pussy.” - My father, to me, his eldest daughter, as I tut-tut-tutted around the lawn at what some would call slow, but I would call a reasonable speed. I didn’t leave the backyard. Symbolism, etc.

I have a pair of pajama pants my aunt gave me last year that stretch to unimaginable widths and...

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 17:14:09 -0500

I have a pair of pajama pants my aunt gave me last year that stretch to unimaginable widths and lengths. . They’re depressing because a pair of pants with that much give denotes that you’ve given up.

This morning I woke up in an altered version of fetal position, with the waist band of my pants stretched over my shoulders. As in my arms were in my pants, hugging my knees. As in these pants have the ability to become a full body suit.

I don’t want to talk about what it means to involuntarily curl up in the fetal position inside a pair of pants like it’s a fake womb cocoon, but I probably will later.

"OH! I get it. He’s gay!"

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 02:31:08 -0500

“OH! I get it. He’s gay!”

- If you ever can’t figure a guy out, 99% of the time you’ll come to this realization and 95% of the time you will be right. You’re welcome!!!

I thought I was the only person in the world who got away...

Fri, 17 Feb 2012 18:54:00 -0500

I thought I was the only person in the world who got away without looking like a serial killer in their passport photo. “An albino pumpkin ghost who is generally unpleasant, maybe, ” I thought. “But certainly not a serial killer.”

I looked at it a second time outside of the office that took the photo and was shocked to see that it definitely looks like a serial killer. The windswept bangs alone suggest I just fled the scene of a crime.