avocadoexplosion!

if you don't like avocados, then you don't like life.

Facebook, I cain’t quit you. June 14, 2012

Filed under: humor,life — avocadoexplosion @ 10:45 pm
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I think we all agree here that Facebook is the worst thing to ever have happened and that we should all boycott it. Ok or maybe you don’t agree, but Facebook has been ruining my life since grad school when it came out. Thank god I wasn’t in college when it came out because I would have wasted all of my awesome college years worrying about if my status was funny enough and do I look hot enough in that profile picture, no I don’t, I have a tiny zit I didn’t see at first so now I have to change it. SHIT. SHIT SHIT SHIT.

OH HAY SEXAY, LOOKIN GOOD BAYBAY

On the one hand, it’s cool to stay in touch with people you knew in high school or middle school or when-the-hell-ever school, and on the other hand, why exactly do I need to know what Bob McDoodlybutt is doing with his life now that he’s all growed up and has a family and a job? Do I really care about the fact that he got that promotion to management at Best Buy, and do I want to see pictures of his ugly baby that, let’s face it, looks like an amorphous drooly blob? Will I ever see this person in real life again? Is Facebook real life now? These are the burning questions that plague me every day, people. EVERY DAY.

No, your baby is super cute. Looks exactly like you.

Yet somehow I can’t just LEAVE Facebook or not look at it or whatever. I find myself bored with work in the middle of the day, and here’s the really stupid part- I work from home, so I can get up and go do whatever I want to in my house rather than look at Facebook but instead I LOOK AT FACEBOOK LIKE A FRIGGING MORON. I have trouble sleeping in the middle of the night and wake up and look at Facebook because it’s a hell of a lot easier than getting up and doing work. I am out to dinner and when I go to the bathroom, I check my phone for those stupid red circles with numbers in them that means that someone liked my status that I spent wayyyyyy too long thinking about.

So I sit there and read people’s dumb status updates about eating a bowl of oatmeal and drinking coffee in the morning (OH GOOD ONE. REALLY ORIGINAL AND INFORMATIVE. I’M SO GLAD I KNOW THAT ABOUT YOU NOW. HOPE YOU HAVE A REGULAR BOWEL MOVEMENT AFTERWARDS AND POST ABOUT IT TOO, WITH PICTURES PREFERABLY) and look at pictures of their kids (STILL UGLY, AT LEAST UNTIL THEY HIT 2 YEARS OLD OR ARE MY BEST FRIEND’S BABY ISABELLE, SHE GETS A PASS BECAUSE SHE HAS ALWAYS BEEN A BEAUTIFUL MAGICAL BABY PRINCESS, NO I’M NOT BIASED) and get invited to events that I will never ever go to because I HAVE TO LOOK AT FACEBOOK NOT GO TO YOUR EVENT. THANKS. And then I hate myself afterwards for even checking the news feed. What do I think is going to happen here? That suddenly I’m going to get a private message from Ryan Adams saying that he saw my hot-ass profile picture and has decided to leave Mandy Moore for me and will be here in 5 and a half hours just as soon as he finishes this show and flies down from New York? I, um…that’s not anything I’ve thought about…obviously. NO. That is never going to happen just like nothing ever happens on Facebook, except for, of course, overplayed memes. I get it, that blocky white all caps font is funny, especially when paired with a picture of a cat or when it says “What my friends think I do/What my mom thinks I do/What I really do.” PLEASE LET IT DIE NOW.

It really is worth being on Facebook if only to be notified of high school yearbook pictures of James Hetfield.

Yet again…I sit there and scroll through the news feed all the time, and post my status updates that I’m sure a lot of people don’t think are funny, and post dumb pictures of my cat and dog. Whatever, they’re totally cuter than blobby babies who don’t even have FUR. Who cares about pictures of things that don’t have fur, not me.

THAT’S RIGHT, THAT’S A CROTCH SHOT OF MY FAVORITE CAT EVER. ABSORB IT. REVEL IN IT. BUT NOT TOO MUCH. OK THAT’S ENOUGH.

YEAH I KNOW THAT PINK SCARF ON MY DOG’S HEAD IS FUNNY BECAUSE HE LOOKS LIKE A PEASANT WOMAN. HE’S A BOY CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE THAT, HE’S WEARING PINK AND HE’S A BOY!!!!!!

AS LONG AS WE’RE SHARING PET PICTURES, LET’S GO ONE STEP FURTHER AND TALK ABOUT MY FISH STEVE PERRY. HERE, HE’S SEARCHING FOR HIS OWN POOP SO HE CAN TRY TO EAT IT. THAT’S ACTUALLY TRUE, I’M NOT LYING. HE TRIES TO EAT HIS OWN POOP.

Here is the reason I tell myself I can’t delete my account: I have a band that has a Facebook page that I update very very inconsistently because I get nervous when speaking for the four other people who are also in the band and seriously, what else is there to say that hasn’t been said, and what if I say something stupid that makes people mad and makes them hate us. Why yes I do overanalyze everything that I do in life. Why do you ask? Also, I tell people about our shows pretty much only through Facebook. And you’re supposed to be able to create “buzz” online or whatever the hell it is. Has this worked for me yet? No. Do I even know how to do this? No. Do I need someone to do this for me and then delete my personal account so I can actually get things done? Yes probably. Will I actually delete my account when it comes down to it?

NO DUH OF COURSE NOT

Because I like posting idiotic pictures of my cat and dog and scrolling through the mundane shit that makes up our everyday lives for some weird reason. And because I work from home and have very limited interaction with humans throughout the day other than on gchat, so it makes me feel like I am not the only person alive in a post-apocalyptic world.

It’s just….so bright out here. I haven’t been outside in a while. You’re the first person I’ve seen in at least a month. I haven’t eaten anything except ramen and boxed wine for 3 weeks. Oh, I stink? Yeah we don’t have showers in the post-apocalypse, so that makes sense. I mean, I don’t take showers anyways on principle, but I appreciate your feedback.

And just because I feel like it, here is a list (a list on this blog? shocking, I know) of my top 5 most hated things on Facebook:

1. Posts of song lyrics that are not meant to be ironic or funny. It doesn’t make you deep, and it’s cliche as shit. Although I believe in the power of music to connect people, I don’t need to read the lyrics to some awful Dashboard Confessional song that you think perfectly describes your shitty day. Whoever the songwriter for Dashboard Confessional is (no, I don’t care enough to google his name) wrote those songs about HIS shitty day, not yours. If you want to post Iron Maiden lyrics, that’s a different story. But I still don’t think you’re as phenomenally fantastic as Bruce Dickinson, you hack. UNSUBSCRIBE

BE STILL MY HEART

OK IT’S STILL, GOOD JOB

2. Half-nakey pictures of girls who have daddy issues. Men, I know you enjoy these types of pictures, but as a woman, all I can say is honey, please go to the self-esteem store and buy some. Nobody wants to see your drunky-face sloppy side-boob hanging out of your $10 Forever 21 dress. And for REAL real, nobody wants to see you “modeling” whatever it is that you’re “modeling” when you’re posing nude in a field of wheat or maybe it’s quinoa, I don’t know what type of grain it is exactly, for that photographer that you probably slept with later. If you’re not actually pursuing a career in modeling, acting, or music where you need to have those pictures, it’s sad, not sexy. UNSUBSCRIBE

OH HAY IS THAT WHEAT CHAFING YOU?

3. I think we’ve been over this one…baby pictures. I’m not talking the occasional picture or two because, contrary to popular belief, I do have a heart and actually like seeing pictures of my friends’ children in moderation. I’m saying you’re littering the feed with multiple pictures of your child every single day. UNSUBSCRIBE

4. People who have some sort of cause that they keep throwing your face over and over and OVER AND OVER AND OVER. Jesus, give it a rest. I donate to whom I want when I please (and I actually do, so don’t give me any of that shit), and you pushing me to do so MAKES ME HATE YOUR FACE. SO MUCH.  Also, “REPOST IF YOU KNOW SOMEONE WHO HAS CANCER AND CAN MAKE IT AND ALL OF THE WORLD’S CANCER BETTER BY MAKING PEOPLE AWARE OF CANCER THROUGH THIS FACEBOOK REPOST BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY THE WORLD IS NOT AWARE ENOUGH OF CANCER” pisses my shit off like nothing else. UNSUBSCRIBE

Yes, it’s a meme. SO WHAT, SUE ME

5. Anything that posts for you through another app. I don’t care that you’ve been listening to Katy Perry on Spotify (wait a second, yes I do care- UNSUBSCRIBE BASED ON PRINCIPLE) or that you bought a cow on Farmville or that you posted some craft project that you’ll never do to Pinterest.  Cool story, bro.  UNSUBSCRIBE

OH KATY YOU ARE SO THOUGHT PROVOKING AND COMPLICATED, I WISH WE WERE BFFS

There are so many more. So many more that I can’t post and so much that I can’t go into without alienating most of the people that I know and, heaven forbid, decreasing my friend numbers on Facebook, which is the worst. The. Worst. WHAT?! I WENT FROM 867 TO 864 IN ONE NIGHT? WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!?!?!?!

I know I’m part of the problem. CURSES ON YOUR FAMILY, ZUCKERBERG

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SUMMER, YOU SUCK June 7, 2012

Filed under: humor,life — avocadoexplosion @ 11:50 pm
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Yeah, I know I haven’t posted since December.  SHUT UP, YOU’RE STUPID.

I have something to say.  I have lived in the South for like, oh wait, all my life, and you would think that by now I’d be used to the climate.  NO.  Every year, it keeps getting hotter and hotter because of the global warming and us getting closer to Satan’s asshole, and I keep getting more and more pissed off, and my hair keeps getting flatter and flatter.

WELCOME TO HEEEELLLLLLLLL. Conveniently located in North Carolina!

I remember when I was a kid, living in the middle of North Carolina, being pissed off at 10 years old (hard to believe, right) about how stupidly hot and humid it was in stupid hot North Carolina.  Because I’m an only child and entertained myself by talking to myself most of the time, I’d go outside and wander around in the woods behind my house and pretend like I was lost in a magical fairy land (SHUT UP. I WAS 10. OK THIS WAS LAST YEAR).  And then I’d go jump on the trampoline and slowly get pissed pissed PISSED because it was summer and there were stupid summer flies buzzing around above the trampoline and it was so hooooooooot.  One time I was playing softball in the summer and got so hot that I passed out and my mom and dad had to carry me to the car and then on the way home I puked at the bottom of our driveway and our dog ate it.

Here is what people say is good about summer:

  • the beach
  • the pool
  • ??????

Is there anything else that people think is good about summer? I don’t even like water except for to drink (we’ve discussed my aversion to showers) so when people say HEY LET’S GO TO THE POOL I’m like, submersing myself in water voluntarily sounds like the most unnatural thing ever and then when they say LET’S GO TO THE BEACH! I’m like, bitches, I lived in Myrtle Beach since I was 13 and it’s not a vacation for me. It’s just a place where you go to get sand up your asscrack and really small sharks preserved in formaldehyde and hermit crabs and shirts that are made to look like you are wearing a bikini.

Are you actually trying to look sexy in that bikini shirt? You know that’s a joke, right?

Somehow better than the first one. Marginally, but better.

And this one just leaves me speechless.

You really can’t do anything outside in the summer except for sit in one place and think about the sweat dripping down your back and legs and how uncomfortable you are. So if you are like me, you spend the entire summer inside in wintry conditions because apparently, in the South, people think that to counteract the effects of the heat outside, we need to have our buildings at -50°. And then in September, you emerge from your air-conditioned sanctuary and people can see through you because you are so incredibly pale and your skin sparkles like a Twilight vampire and you think YESSSSS I HAVE DISCOVERED THE SECRET OF IMMORTALITY

Oh hay sparkle skin. You been playing video games all summer like me? I knew we were meant to be together forever.

Laying out…ugh. There was literally never a worse activity than laying out. Hey I know, let’s lay in the blistering sun for hours and hours and hours and try to read our dumb summer romance novels but oh wait, I can’t read them because IT’S TOO DAMN BRIGHT OUT HERE WHAT WITH THE SUN ONLY 15 FEET AWAY FROM THE EARTH.

I SAW FIFTY SHADES OF GREY ON YOUR KINDLE! DON’T LIE TO ME, WOMAN!

How much of an insult is it that my birthday is smack in the middle of summer? Great, another pool party. SO EXCITING FOR ME. YOU KNOW HOW I LOVE POOLS, MOM. I’m changing my birthday so that it falls in October rather than June because really, this shit is ridiculous.

SPECIAL SUMMER BIRTHDAY TREAT

Speaking of birthdays, I’m having one soon and am telling everyone who comes to my party to bring a cake with them.  CAKE DAY FOREVER

 

The 5 stages of a hangover December 13, 2011

Hangovers.  They are the worst enemy of people who like to have a good time.  Or alcoholics.  Whatever.

I have awful hangovers, always have.  Much like me, my body is a drama queen and operates only in extremes- things I put in it either make me feel great or make me feel like a pile of batshit.  My hangovers have gotten worse over the years, but I’ve had enough to know there are 5 stages to every single one of them and that if I can make it to stage 5, I can begin to live my life again as a normal human.

1. DENIAL.

I wake up.  Riley is staring me in the face.

“How are you feeling?” he says in a really nice voice.

“FINE.  I’M FINE.  I FEEL LIKE I COULD DO A TRIATHLON AND SAVE THE BABY SEALS AND FIGHT THE WAR AGAINST TERRORISM ALL THIS MORNING BEFORE LUNCH WHILE ALSO PAINTING MY NAILS.  PLEASE GO AWAY SO I CAN DO THESE THINGS.  OR SO I CAN GO BACK TO SLEEP.”

“Do you need anything?”

“YES I NEED SOME JUICE.  BUT NOT BECAUSE I’M HUNGOVER.  I NEED IT BECAUSE I’M AWESOME AND IT HELPS ME TO BE EVEN MORE AWESOME OF A HUMAN THAN I ALREADY AM.”

And then my nice boyfriend goes and gets me some juice and I drink it like I have never had juice before in my existence.  At this point, I am still denying the fact that I did indeed drink too much the previous night and also that I am not invincible.  I am still convincing myself that I love juice just that much and that I feel FINE, OK.

THE MAGIC JUICE OF LIFE

2. POUNDING HEADACHE.

NO MAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOP.  I’m still in bed, writhing around like a sea-monster and holding my temples or the bridge of my nose because that makes it feel better but finally I have to concede that I did, in fact, yes, I did drink too much and probably some chemical is required to make this shitstorm stop that is flying around in my head.

“RILEY OH MY GOD CAN YOU GET ME SOME BC POWDER BECAUSE I THINK I AM DYING AND IF YOU DON’T WANT TO CLEAN UP YOUR DEAD GIRLFRIEND’S BODY YOU SHOULD DO AS I SAY.  I WILL HAUNT YOU LATER WHEN I DIE IF YOU DON’T GET ME BC POWDER RIGHT NOW.  THANK YOU, MGMT.”

If you have never had BC powder, let me tell you a little about it.  It’s a little parchment paper packet that you unfold, and it has white powder in it.  It looks like cocaine even though I have never seen cocaine except in 80s movies.  You’re supposed to fold the paper in half and funnel the stuff into your mouth and then drink something to make it go down.  Basically, it’s ground-up aspirin, and basically, it tastes like the devil himself took a huge shit in your mouth.  If that’s your thing, then think of something else that is awful.  If it’s not your thing, that metaphor will make more sense.

This is where the juice is very helpful- the evils of BC powder are immediately neutralized by washing it down with a few humongous gulps of delicious orange juice or Diet Coke or anything that has a taste.  But I implore you- do NOT use water to wash that poopshite down.  NO.  If you didn’t realize this already, water has no taste to it and therefore you will taste only the wrath of the BC powder.  Effective?  Yes.  Tasty?  Not at all.

If I had known that I was making Trace Adkins happy by effectively vanquishing my hangovers, I would have just suffered the headache this whole time...

The headache starts to go away after about 10 minutes of more writhing around and holding different parts of my face so they don’t fall off from the sheer pain of the headache.  Finally, I feel like a normal person without a raging ocean crashing in my forehead when suddenly the next stage comes and hits me harder than the last.

3. THE DIZZY STUPIDS.

Two things start happening in this stage of the hangover.  First, I get incredibly hyper and start thinking that I can in fact do a triathlon and save baby seals and do the rest of it.  Then, I actually get out of bed and WHOA.  I am simultaneously as hyper and naive as a 10-year-old and have vertigo like an 80-year-old.  I start running into furniture and tripping over the floor (I SWEAR TO GOD THERE’S A RIPPLE IN THE FLOOR), and my hand starts shaking when I try to hold anything.  Then I start coming up with stupid ideas that will never make any sense to anyone (I COULD BE THE NEXT JESUS.  YOU DON’T KNOW.  I’M THE SAVIOR OF THE WORLD OK).  If I ever tell you I am presently hungover while talking to you, please disregard anything I say and chalk it up to the hangover.

SERIOUSLY IT'S THE HANGOVER YOU BITCH SHUT UP SMILE WITH YOUR EYES

4. VOMSTRAVAGANZA

This is obviously the worst part of the hangover, as all of the fun effects of alcohol have faded, and my body is telling me to get rid of the poison as soon as possible.  This stage lasts anywhere from 5 minutes to 8 hours, depending on how much of a little bitch my body feels like being that day (and, I guess, depending on how much I drank and whether or not I ate anything the day before…I realize that I do in fact have some part in this).

hueeeeeeeeck barf vom vom vom

At this point, all I can do is sit around and wait for the next wave of nausea to come along and obey when it tells me to go bow down to the porcelain god.  Finally, I reach some sort of mutual agreement with my stomach because then I want to

5. EAT EVERYTHING IN SIGHT, INCLUDING SALT AND SALT AND SALT AND…ALSO SALT.

At this stage, I start getting really excited about food because I remember how good it is and my stomach stops rejecting everything (yes, even water) that I put in it.  Usually when I am in this stage, I will kill someone for Mexican food, or Indian food, or really any sort of ethnic food that is not American.  Also that’s not true because I will eat the shit out of some Wendy’s when I have a hangover.  There is generally some sort of leftover headache from all the dehydration and events of the day, but I don’t even care by then because I’m stuffing my face and am the happiest I have ever been in my life.

Yeah, I don't know.

Oh yeah I forgot about the 6th stage.  It comes days later when I

6. FORGET WHAT HANGOVERS FEEL LIKE AND DRINK TOO MUCH AGAIN.

Dammit.

 

Christmastime is here. Happiness and cheer, or whatever it is those mush-mouthed children sing in the Charlie Brown Christmas movie. December 5, 2011

Holy crap can I just say how much I love Christmas.  I don’t give two shits about the commercial blah blah blah consumer holiday blah blah crap that everyone says makes them hate it.  Let me tell you why Christmas is GREAT.

CHRISTMAS MUSIC.  YES omg I could listen to that crap all day long every day, and guess what, I actually do for two entire months listen to almost nothing but Christmas music.  If someone tries to play a song for me that is not Christmas music, I punch them in the face.  POW just like that.  I have started listening to Spotify lately, and I saw that Michael Buble had a Christmas album out.  Now usually I would be like MICHAEL BUBLE HAHAHA YOUR NAME SOUNDS LIKE BOOBS ALSO YOUR MUSIC IS PROBABLY LAME EVEN THOUGH I’VE NEVER LISTENED TO IT.  But this time was different.  In all honesty I am listening to that album right now, and I have to say, it’s not bad at all.  Spotify may even get me to listen to that band I hate, She and Him, Jesus H. Agricultural Christ, how I hate them.  I cannot stand Zooey Deschanel’s voice.  But I am seriously considering soiling my laptop with their music just because it’s a Christmas album.

Ooh look at me, I'm Zooey Deschanel, I'm so quirky and cute! I wasn't satisfied with a really successful career in film even though my acting is mediocre at best, noooo I had to go and piss all over music too with my twangy affected voice! Also let's talk about how we are not living in a J.D. Salinger book, Zooey. SPELL IT RIGHT PLEASE

Also, confession- I still listen to Hanson’s Christmas album that I got way back in middle school.  I shouldn’t have put that on the Internets just now.  I just invited a world of shit to my door.

Oh, you boys with your Christmas sweaters and your faces that aren't as cute as they used to be. That's ok, you still have nice hair. At least, two of you do. Ok, just one.

DECORATIONS.  A holiday where it’s socially acceptable for me to make my house look like Narnia???  WHAT DID YOU SAY????!!!!!!  Starting directly after Thanksgiving, I drag in as many tree and bush branches as I can find and make the house into a magical Christmas forest complete with fauns and elves.  Ok maybe not fauns and elves, but the amount of Christmas decorations I own is frightening, in part due to my mother and grandmother.  They overload me with Christmas ornaments and decorations every single year because they get them on super sale after Christmas the year before.  Don’t tell them this but I give a lot of that shit to Goodwill because WE DON’T LIKE PLASTIC IN THE MAGIC CHRISTMAS FOREST.  Jeez.  Get it right, Nana.  NATURAL MATERIALS ONLY PLEASE

WELCOME TO MY HOUSE. DOES IT CREEP YOU OUT THAT I HAVE A LITTLE GIRL IN HERE WHO IS NOT RELATED TO ME. I THOUGHT SO.

FOOD.  This one is probably pretty obvious.  If you know me, you know I love food.  Themed food?  Even better.  Every year, my mom and I make sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles on them and they are the best thing I have ever eaten.  We also have about a million cookie cutters in the shapes of reindeers, holly leaves, Christmas trees, angels, and a crapload of other awesome Christmas things.  The worst one is Santa because that bastard has a ball on the end of his hat that always breaks off when you’re trying to get the dough out of the cookie cutter.  Bad design.  But then I’m always like oh look Mom this one is ruined NOM NOM NOM I ATE IT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA.  And then I get a sugar high and run around the house in circles and my mom rolls her eyes and sighs.  What did I raise? she thinks to herself.  Or rather, what did I not raise because this woman is obviously stuck in 3rd grade.

SUGAAAAAR

PRESENTS.  Um.  DUH.  Every year I’m like “oh mom and dad you don’t have to get me anything, no no no.  I’m older.  I’ve stopped all that now.  No but really what are you getting me.”  Because I am that shallow.  Yes.  Also sometimes I buy myself Christmas presents.  Don’t judge.

Speaking of Christmas presents, guess what I got (early).  A video camera.  YAYAYAYAYAAYAYAY.  And as soon as I figure out how to use it, I’ll post some videos on here.  I have no patience with learning how to use technology.  NONE!

NO. Ok, maybe. Only if you're nice.

 

ME AND SPORTS. NOT FRIENDS. November 29, 2011

Filed under: humor,life — avocadoexplosion @ 10:08 pm
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A few weekends ago, I *tried* to run my first half marathon ever.  I say “tried” because I didn’t actually run the whole thing.  Not because I didn’t want to…because my knee is a big fat whiny baby.  I had been having trouble with it before the race and thought that maybe a magical fairy of healing would visit me in my sleep and make my knee better but in fact no, this did not happen.  I ended up being able to run 5 miles before the pain got so bad that I had to stop and limp for a while.  I walked the last 8 miles of the damn thing and by the way walking 8 miles is REALLY EFFING BORING.  What’s worse is that I had to speed walk it.  I mean I would have finished at 11 pm if I hadn’t.  Let me tell you how much I despise speed walking.  I kept thinking to myself, god I look like a 50-year-old mall walker except I’m not wearing swooshy windpants.

I'M THE OLD ONE IN THE MIDDLE. JESUS. UGHGHGHGHGHGHGGHGHGHGH

And then I walked around like I had a peg leg for two entire weeks.  I couldn’t straighten my leg at all or walk down stairs in a non-embarrassing way.  The moral of this story, children, is that you should make sure you are well trained if you are stupid enough to sign up for a 13-mile-or-longer race.

More athletic than me. True story.

However, I did get to stuff myself with all manner of unhealthy ingredients the day before, all in the name of running.  Doughnuts, crab legs, pasta, ice cream, etc. etc. etc.  By the end of the day I was actually really sick of eating crap and was ready to have a salad but I was like NO YOU CAN’T BREAK NOW, YOU’LL LOSE EVERYTHING YOU’VE WORKED FOR, THINK OF THE CHILDREN.  I don’t know what children I was talking about.  In retrospect, I think I just made myself kind of fat for the weekend but whatever.

I have never been particularly athletic.  And when I say “particularly,” I mean “not at all.”  My mom and dad put me in like every single sport available when I was a kid, and I sucked ass at all of them.  Here is a list of the sports and physical activities I did during my youth, in chronological order:

  • tee ball
  • gymnastics
  • ballet
  • tap dance
  • tennis
  • swimming
  • softball
  • track
  • cheerleading
  • basketball
  • soccer

Here is a list of the sports and physical activities I was good at during my youth:

You’ll see that there are in fact no activities listed here because I was terrible at all of them.  One time during PE when we were playing basketball, everyone was on one side of the court because we had switched sides at that point in the game, which I didn’t quite absorb until too late, and I was like guys, we’re over here.  Guys.  Ok I’ll just go make a basket now.  FOR THE OTHER TEAM.

Oh god. The shame.

I just was thinking about all of this because of the race and my peg leg and because I’m watching TV tonight and, as usual, there is nothing on.  I just watched American Bobo Story because I’m bored as shit and was then flipping through the channels coming up with nothing and decided oh hey maybe I should watch Black Swan for the seventy gajillionth time.  And then I was like oh hey she’s putting on her toe shoes and then I was like GOD I NEVER MADE IT TO TOE SHOES IN BALLET BECAUSE I SUCKED SO BAD.  Seriously I did ballet from age 3-13 and really?  You’d think someone would get farther than I did.  You would think that.  But you would be wrong.

 

Go ahead and take my woman card now. It’s another post about how much I hate shopping. November 6, 2011

Sometimes in life, you have to shop for things.  And this pisses me off.  I think my woman card is about to be revoked because not only do I not like every John Cusack movie ever made- I also really hate shopping.  Hate.  It.  This does not mean I hate clothes.  This means I hate shopping.  Sometimes for the band’s shows I have to go shopping for clothes so that I don’t wear my pajamas on stage because literally that is all I wear anymore now that I work from home.  I said it would be so, and it is so.  I have made friends of mine go shopping with me, and I don’t know why they’re still my friends.  I know how frustrating it must be to go in a store and have someone say UGH to everything you show them.  Here are the reasons shopping sucks:

1. I am by far the pickiest person I know when it comes to clothing.  Whatever I wear has to fit me exactly right – not too tight, not too loose, not too short, not too long – and be something that defines me in terms of my own personal style, which sounds really stupid when I actually say it out loud. WHATEVER.  When you put that much pressure on yourself, shopping becomes a torture only rivaled by watching a Limp Bizkit video while eating pig tongues and being submitted to boyfriend farts under the covers.  Guh.  Gaaaaaag.

Which is why I never buy anything and wear pajamas most of the time.

2. I have expensive taste.  The other day, I saw a freaking awesome jacket in the window of the new Free People store at our mall, and I went in to try it on.  Fortunately, it was too small, and I say fortunately because this is the jacket itself:

WHICH COSTS $698.00. WTF. WTFWTFWTFWTFWTF.

Ok no jacket should cost that much, ever.  Unless it was made for the Queen herself by magical elves.

Here’s another WTF:

The name of this jacket is "Embellished Vegan Leather Jacket". Vegan leather???? I'm sorry??? I must have missed something. Is this like Tofurkey? Or maybe more like Pullups...the diaper that isn't a diaper. The leather that isn't a leather.

But seriously, everything that I ever see is like a bagrillion dollars and it makes me cry a little bit every night into my pillow to think about it.  It’s like having dated Johnny Depp and it didn’t work out and now you’re seeing Phillip Seymour Hoffman because he’s the only thing that you can afford wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Which is why I never buy anything.

3. EVERYTHING SUCKS.  No seriously?  Everything in stores sucks right now.  Also, it’s not like I live in a town without a good mall.  We have a bunch of stores, including high-end ones.  For some reason, everything still sucks a big pile of disembodied asses.  Like this spawn directly from the bowels of Satan himself:

Excuse me I think your vagina put an ad on your stomach saying open for business

And then it looks like you had a fart cloud the size of the atomic bomb that destroyed all life and hope.

Honestly, I did not look for this dress for a long time.  I went to Urban Outfitters, clicked on “dresses”, and it was in the first 4 dresses on the page.  I’m sure there are many dresses that look worse than this that I could have found just by scrolling through one more awful page, but WE HAVE NO TIME.  WE HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS NOW, PEOPLE.  Or else we’ll be forced to wear these dresses by aliens when they take over the earth.

I mean, even home decoration stuff sucks right now.  I usually love Anthropologie more than I love my own mother (that’s mean, forget I said that), and I am in the market for a new duvet cover/comforter thingy this year.  So I went to Anthropologie, and the best thing I saw was this:

Which looks like Monet threw up on a comforter.  Holy mother of God.  I would buy this if I didn’t think Riley would slaughter me in my sleep and that nobody would find out because the blood and body parts would just blend in with everything else.

Then I went and looked at Pottery Barn.  It looked like the paisley/floral/monogram monster had come and taken a huge shit all over every bed in the place.

RAHHHH WE LOVE PAISLEY IT REMINDS US OF GRANDMA

RAHHHH WE LOVE FLOWERS THEY ALSO REMIND US OF GRANDMA

RAHHHH WE LOVE MONOGRAMS IT MEANS PREPPY GIRLS ARE NEARBY AND WE LIKE TO EAT THEM FOR DINNER

NUMBER FOUR.  Here is the real reason that shopping sucks for me.  I have no patience.  NONE.  Online shopping is actually really easy for me because if I don’t like something, I can just click on another link.  However, if I am actually in the mall, I have to walk my ass into the store, pretend like I’m interested in something so as not to hurt people’s feelings even though within the first 5 seconds of being there I can usually tell that I hate or love everything, and then do the same for every damn store in the mall.  Riley is always like but how do you even know, you look through the store in like 3.5808329 minutes and that is not even enough time to figure out if you like something or not.  But I know.  BECAUSE I HAVE EYES, OK.

Also, I would like to state for the record that my boyfriend is obviously a woman by the amount of time he spends in stores when we are shopping compared to the time that I spend in stores.  He’s like, oh this would look so sexy on you, just try it on.  I’m like no that looks like an egg fart.  He’s like JUST DO IT AND SHUT UP GOD YOU ARE NO FUN TO SHOP WITH and I’m like well maybe you are a woman and you should go shopping with my friends and I can stay home and do something productive in life.

Which brings me to things I would rather do than shop.

1. Drink wine.

2. Do my actual job.

3. Eat glass.

4. Eat a muffin made of glass and nails.

5. Listen to Limp Bizkit on repeat for one day.

6. Listen to Nickelback have sex with Creed and Limp Bizkit for 3.5808329 minutes.

7. Be forcefed muffins made of glass and nails by zombies who are also fans of Nickelback, Creed, and Limp Bizkit and then be eaten by said zombies.

I’ve been having a lot of zombie dreams lately because of The Walking Dead.  You know what’s weird is that they’re really not very scary dreams.  The zombies are just kind of there, hanging out.  And in one of the dreams, I was having tea with a bunch of drag queens in my yard at exactly 7:20 pm.  Everyone knows that is three hours and 20 minutes too late to have tea, especially with drag queens.