apparently I'm a big hit with farmers, IT guys, and 16-year-olds

I got yelled at by lots of employees today (turns out they don't like it when you don't give them all the money they want but TOO BAD and also? I'm not doing it to be a bitch, TALK TO THE GOVERNMENT BECAUSE THIS IS ALL THEIR FAULT) so after work I went to Kroger to buy some self-medication. There I was, wandering around the store carrying my precious, precious beer and when I passed two 16-year-olds walking the other way, one of them shouted, "Hey BABY, you need help drinking those?"

The answer is no, little boy. No, I do not.

And as it fell from the sky, I asked myself why can I never let anyone in?

The other day, I sprayed myself right square in the eye with a bunch of hairspray. This is because I no longer flinch like a little wussy baby and cover my eyes when I'm spraying the crap out of my ponytail (so no stray hairs come out and tickle my face while I'm running). I'm either getting braver or stupider. Maybe both. This has also led to more minor burns caused by my hair straightener, because I apparently no longer care if I hurt myself, but it's a small price to pay for smooth, shiny hair.

I'm going to say something now, but I'm not sure it's going to work.

I used to try to avoid pain whenever possible. This is why I avoided exercise for so long. Because sometimes it hurts. I might twist an ankle or overstretch a muscle or fall down because I am extremely uncoordinated and who wants to inflict pain on themselves? I sure as hell don't. Not on purpose anyway. I use avoiding pain as an excuse for more than not working out. I don't tell anyone how I feel because I'm afraid of it coming back later and making the rest of my feelings all hurty. Which, now that I think about it, doesn't make much sense because it never really stops my heart from feeling like a giant named Rocky who is made of boulders stepped on it while wearing spiky heels. I don't know why a giant named Rocky is wearing spiky heels. Maybe he's a giant executive transvestite. Don't judge.

I don't know. There are times when I wonder why I hold everything in until I finally (with the help of my good friend, alcohol) just burst and blurt out everything. EVERYTHING. Or I think back on past conversations and realize I said the wrong thing OR worse (and even more likely), I said nothing, missing a perfect opportunity to, I don't know, SAY WHAT I'M FEELING.

For all of my complaining and joking about how I'm going to die alone blah blah blah, I do realize that the fact that I'm perpetually single is probably all my fault. I thought about, you know, actually telling people how I feel, but I'm afraid once I open my brain, it will explode and all the crazy will spill out everywhere and then I really will die alone. Because nobody wants to be with someone who has an exploding brain. It's messy. And also? The Crazy is one of those stains you can never get out of the carpet and then every time someone comes over, they're all, "Ew, what's that? Vomit? Pee? Poo? Love stain?" and you have to be like, "WORSE, it's CRAZY," and they're all, "That is unacceptable, I must go now," and so then you open a bottle of wine and watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and cry through an entire box of tissues. True story.

WOW.

Life can be so fair, let it go on and on

Do you guys ever have those weeks where every day you come home from work and want to immediately crawl into bed and pull the covers over your head? I'm having one of those weeks. Only it's more like I get out of bed in the morning and want to turn right around and crawl back in. Whatever. Semantics.

I haven't given into this desire, though. Oh, no, I have not! Instead I come home, make dinner, read, watch TV, go to the gym, blah blah yadda yadda. You guys know how I like to entertain myself by making up scenarios in my head when I'm bored, right? I'm beginning to think it's getting to the point where it's not healthy. Like the life I'm inventing in my head is a lot better than the one I'm living. How do I switch that? If life really was like Choose Your Own Adventure (psst, Kat, hee), I'm pretty sure I've willingly made some of the stupidest choices possible. Like, you know how you would read those books and when it came time to choose between A and B, you'd look ahead, right? I did anyway. Well, it's like that, only I'm still choosing A when I already looked a head and A is like, the long, lonely path of loneliness and B is . . . I don't know, marrying Jake Gyllenhaal and then winning a million dollars that you turn around and give to charity because you don't NEED a million dollars because you just married Jake Gyllenhaal. My brain is all, "Choose B! B is good! B is the smart choice . . . trust me. I'm your brain. When have I ever let you down before?" And then I go ahead and choose A and when I look back on all the choices I've made the past couple of months, I don't necessarily think they were the wrong ones, I just wonder what would have happened if I'd picked B a couple times.

Does anyone know what I'm talking about? Because I don't even know. Oh well. So in the whole spirit of not crawling into bed at 5:30 every night this week, I made sure I called my mom tonight to wish her a happy birthday. Because it's her birthday. Makes sense, if you think about it. It's also their anniversary. My parents. Duh. They got married on my mom's birthday, which was really smart of my dad because it's only one date he has to remember. Although, like my mom told me earlier, he's totally screwed if he forgets that one date. My parents are on vacation up at Niagara Falls (the Canadian side) because even though they've been together since high school and married for 107 years, they still want to hang out ALL THE TIME. Doesn't that just make you want to throw up? I blame them for the fact that I'll probably never get married, because I don't want to get married unless it's to someone I'll still look forward to hanging out with in 107 years. And sure, that might happen, but the odds of me finding someone who can put up with me for 107 years? Not good.

planet unicorn HEYYY

Oh you guys, I have nothing to write about. NOTHING.

That's probably pretty obvious, though, what with the lists and the unicorns and whatever the hell this was and then more lists.

Help. Me. I'm. So. Boring.