i wrote, with a little backtracking, to dearlife. which you should read anyway because it's pretty great.
xo.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
i think i miss you most on wednesdays, and saturdays.
as evidenced by the title, i have been listening to way too much dashboard. i spent the entire weekend horizontal- sleeping or watching tv or staring at the wall trying not to picture any of the many things about him that i loved. 6 days later, here is a breakdown (how ironic) of how one should handle a breakup... or at least how i'm doing it.
day 0: get dumped. leave work with the explanation "i'm just not having a very good day." cry. cry so much that you literally can't breathe and your face goes numb and you can't do anything about the gallons of mucus leaking out of your nose because there is a brick in your sinuses. if you have friends, do this at their houses. take shots of tequila, which won't make clearly explaining the horror you have just experienced 9 times any easier. make long distance phone calls in order to do this with other friends who have been rude enough to go to college in other countries instead of holding your little retarded hand for the past 2 years. eventually, stop crying, but make sure you start again when you hear the dirty rap song whose lyrics were the caption of one of his profile pictures or see someone driving the same kind of car that he drives (if his car is a black jeep liberty, you're fucked.)
day 1: go back to work. do NOT wear makeup. FEROCIOUSLY facebook stalk the shit out of him and look unstable enough that your boss doesn't try to stop you. look at 50+% of all of his tagged pictures, the profiles of any girls that have written on his wall in the past month, and anything that he has commented on-- esPECIALLY if it belongs to dumb cunt slores... i mean, other girls.
get the fuck off of facebook. delete all texts in your phone from him. yes, even the one where he told you your legs were beautiful and the one where you two reminisced about the awesome time you had at margarita wednesday the previous night. you know what? fuck it. delete his fucking phone number. you don't need it. and if you do, you can find it on facebook which is the only reason you are deleting it at all. let's be real here.
go to an iron and wine concert or something equally emotionally charged. sob into your hands and make everyone in your vicinity really uncomfortable. go to sleep.
day 2: if this day is not saturday, repeat day 1 until it is. if this day is saturday, you are slightly luckier than the average swollen-faced fat dumped bitch. eat everything, or eat nothing-- everyone's different! don't bathe. watch avatar. watch the millionaire matchmaker and throw shit at the tv because let's face it, these old ugly bitches are GOING to find love RIGHT NOW with the help of patti stanger as you sit transfixed and probably sobbing again into a box of cheez-its. have chick fil a for dinner with your mom. watch a pivotal football game which, let's face it, almost gave me a heart attack in my fragile state. have a beer. ONE. BEER. go to sleep. have gut-wrenching dreams in which your recent ex has sex with your best friend right in front of you.
day 3: if this day is not sunday, you didn't repeat day 1 enough times and you're a stupid bad listener. wake up and roll over at like 11:30am. cry on the dog- she doesn't mind. catch up on 9 eps of grey's anatomy and 3 of dexter in bed. talk to your parents about how they need to support you when your only life partner is Hypothetical Cat Vlad. your dad will laugh. your mom will make a note to call your therapist in the morning while simultaneously suggesting that Vlad be a white cat so as not to shed on your wedding dress.
bathe at like 9pm. maybe wash your hair too, but you can pretend to be sick or that you're going to exercise in the morning if that step is too much. have gut wrenching dreams about running into your recent ex with his new wildebeest slut and you are fatter than you are when you went to sleep.
day 4: HOLY SHIT MONDAYS SUCK. wake up and attempt a workout. you can't rebound if you look like a bowl of banana pudding, amiright? marvel at the fact that until today, you have not seen your own face without any traces of makeup on it since you were 13.
decide that today is a good day to wear makeup. (don't panic- you're going to look like an alien from the planet bad transvestite. your eyelashes aren't used to this shit! what are you DOING to me?!?) wear pants that are crafted of jean instead of fleece, AND a bra that has cups. go to work and fake smile a lot. tell everyone you had a great weekend catching up on sleep, when in reality you were waking up every hour or so seeing and feeling thousands of red ants crawling in your bed.
day 5: deactivate your facebook. stalking is no longer an option. you are whiny and BORED! DYE YOUR HAIR! but not all of it because you're a pansy ass bitch. just the bottom half- chestnut. watch glee, cry like someone killed your dog when they sing "just the way you are" because who is ever going to like YOU just the way you are and never want to change anything about YOUR face? i usually don't take my makeup off at night which means it is still on in the morning and my eyes are red and since i'm a ginger i look like the bride of chucky. yeahhh buddy- just the way i am.
put on a cute shirt and go out drinking. accept a date from some guy that followed you around for 15 minutes. he's in the army. he wants to take you to dinner and a movie. whatever, i'll take a free pasta dish and glass/bottle of wine. see you friday, brandon!
day 6: you went to yoga and communed with your feelings! it felt good. you feel a little more like yourself. a jaded, world weary version of yourself, but still better than the version that feels like a flesh-eating virus is eating its entire chest cavity every time he friends a new miami bitch on facebook.
tomorrow is a week. we'll see how my chest cavity is doing then.
day 0: get dumped. leave work with the explanation "i'm just not having a very good day." cry. cry so much that you literally can't breathe and your face goes numb and you can't do anything about the gallons of mucus leaking out of your nose because there is a brick in your sinuses. if you have friends, do this at their houses. take shots of tequila, which won't make clearly explaining the horror you have just experienced 9 times any easier. make long distance phone calls in order to do this with other friends who have been rude enough to go to college in other countries instead of holding your little retarded hand for the past 2 years. eventually, stop crying, but make sure you start again when you hear the dirty rap song whose lyrics were the caption of one of his profile pictures or see someone driving the same kind of car that he drives (if his car is a black jeep liberty, you're fucked.)
day 1: go back to work. do NOT wear makeup. FEROCIOUSLY facebook stalk the shit out of him and look unstable enough that your boss doesn't try to stop you. look at 50+% of all of his tagged pictures, the profiles of any girls that have written on his wall in the past month, and anything that he has commented on-- esPECIALLY if it belongs to dumb cunt slores... i mean, other girls.
get the fuck off of facebook. delete all texts in your phone from him. yes, even the one where he told you your legs were beautiful and the one where you two reminisced about the awesome time you had at margarita wednesday the previous night. you know what? fuck it. delete his fucking phone number. you don't need it. and if you do, you can find it on facebook which is the only reason you are deleting it at all. let's be real here.
go to an iron and wine concert or something equally emotionally charged. sob into your hands and make everyone in your vicinity really uncomfortable. go to sleep.
day 2: if this day is not saturday, repeat day 1 until it is. if this day is saturday, you are slightly luckier than the average swollen-faced fat dumped bitch. eat everything, or eat nothing-- everyone's different! don't bathe. watch avatar. watch the millionaire matchmaker and throw shit at the tv because let's face it, these old ugly bitches are GOING to find love RIGHT NOW with the help of patti stanger as you sit transfixed and probably sobbing again into a box of cheez-its. have chick fil a for dinner with your mom. watch a pivotal football game which, let's face it, almost gave me a heart attack in my fragile state. have a beer. ONE. BEER. go to sleep. have gut-wrenching dreams in which your recent ex has sex with your best friend right in front of you.
day 3: if this day is not sunday, you didn't repeat day 1 enough times and you're a stupid bad listener. wake up and roll over at like 11:30am. cry on the dog- she doesn't mind. catch up on 9 eps of grey's anatomy and 3 of dexter in bed. talk to your parents about how they need to support you when your only life partner is Hypothetical Cat Vlad. your dad will laugh. your mom will make a note to call your therapist in the morning while simultaneously suggesting that Vlad be a white cat so as not to shed on your wedding dress.
bathe at like 9pm. maybe wash your hair too, but you can pretend to be sick or that you're going to exercise in the morning if that step is too much. have gut wrenching dreams about running into your recent ex with his new wildebeest slut and you are fatter than you are when you went to sleep.
day 4: HOLY SHIT MONDAYS SUCK. wake up and attempt a workout. you can't rebound if you look like a bowl of banana pudding, amiright? marvel at the fact that until today, you have not seen your own face without any traces of makeup on it since you were 13.
decide that today is a good day to wear makeup. (don't panic- you're going to look like an alien from the planet bad transvestite. your eyelashes aren't used to this shit! what are you DOING to me?!?) wear pants that are crafted of jean instead of fleece, AND a bra that has cups. go to work and fake smile a lot. tell everyone you had a great weekend catching up on sleep, when in reality you were waking up every hour or so seeing and feeling thousands of red ants crawling in your bed.
day 5: deactivate your facebook. stalking is no longer an option. you are whiny and BORED! DYE YOUR HAIR! but not all of it because you're a pansy ass bitch. just the bottom half- chestnut. watch glee, cry like someone killed your dog when they sing "just the way you are" because who is ever going to like YOU just the way you are and never want to change anything about YOUR face? i usually don't take my makeup off at night which means it is still on in the morning and my eyes are red and since i'm a ginger i look like the bride of chucky. yeahhh buddy- just the way i am.
put on a cute shirt and go out drinking. accept a date from some guy that followed you around for 15 minutes. he's in the army. he wants to take you to dinner and a movie. whatever, i'll take a free pasta dish and glass/bottle of wine. see you friday, brandon!
day 6: you went to yoga and communed with your feelings! it felt good. you feel a little more like yourself. a jaded, world weary version of yourself, but still better than the version that feels like a flesh-eating virus is eating its entire chest cavity every time he friends a new miami bitch on facebook.
tomorrow is a week. we'll see how my chest cavity is doing then.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
love and some verses you hear, say what you can't say.
on thursday, my kind of but not really bf j and i broke up. last saturday, i got super drunk enough at a tailgate to realize that he was never, ever lying when he told me repeatedly that he didn't want a girlfriend. i was also drunk enough to corner him next to the keg aka in front of ALL of our friends and yell at him about this fact. sunday morning, we confirmed that yes, we should have this talk again when neither of us is blacked out. monday: nothing. tuesday: can't eat. wednesday: having multiple heart attacks. thursday: saw him across the parking garage at school in the morning- we both looked away and took different staircases. i am crying. 2 hours later saw him walking on campus with one of his many wildebeest female acquaintances; this time we both waved. 15 minutes later i texted him: "after my drunken tantrum on saturday, i backed off and figured you would talk to me when you wanted to. it's been 4 days and you haven't. why?"
he called me. he doesn't think we should hook up anymore because he knows it's hurting me that he doesn't want more right now. he wants us to be friends. i am "the shit" and he wants to still be friends and hang out as friends, even though that will be weird for a while... i'm crying again writing this because he's right. i'm not strong enough to walk away from something that clearly isn't good for me, as evidenced by the last time that i broke up with him and came crawling back after one week of being miserable. it needed to happen, and it's better that it come from him since i would probably just cave again.
i liked him so much that it scared me sometimes. i cared about him. i thought about him all the time. clearly he wasn't ready for any of that. too selfish, too lazy, too absolutely committed to being single in college and bromance instead of romance. either way i'm scared that i won't ever feel like that about someone again. and that no one will put up with my crazy ass for 9 months again.... ever.
i can't figure out what i'm doing wrong. what i've always been doing wrong. maybe i give too much and don't ask for enough. maybe i'm too insecure to ever believe that someone would like THIS. maybe i just need to stop caring-- everyone says that when you stop looking for someone, you find them.
maybe i'm going to go cry and watch grey's anatomy for the rest of the day. this month sucks.
he called me. he doesn't think we should hook up anymore because he knows it's hurting me that he doesn't want more right now. he wants us to be friends. i am "the shit" and he wants to still be friends and hang out as friends, even though that will be weird for a while... i'm crying again writing this because he's right. i'm not strong enough to walk away from something that clearly isn't good for me, as evidenced by the last time that i broke up with him and came crawling back after one week of being miserable. it needed to happen, and it's better that it come from him since i would probably just cave again.
i liked him so much that it scared me sometimes. i cared about him. i thought about him all the time. clearly he wasn't ready for any of that. too selfish, too lazy, too absolutely committed to being single in college and bromance instead of romance. either way i'm scared that i won't ever feel like that about someone again. and that no one will put up with my crazy ass for 9 months again.... ever.
i can't figure out what i'm doing wrong. what i've always been doing wrong. maybe i give too much and don't ask for enough. maybe i'm too insecure to ever believe that someone would like THIS. maybe i just need to stop caring-- everyone says that when you stop looking for someone, you find them.
maybe i'm going to go cry and watch grey's anatomy for the rest of the day. this month sucks.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
"are you a showgirl or something?" "i'm a bunny. i'm wearing ears."
hell week is almost over. having a test 3 days after halloween (aka after 4 days of COMPLETE drunken semi-naked black/passouts and pukage) should definitely be illegal.. ATTENTION my criminology methods teacher!
i've been having debilitating foot cramps today. too much baclava while laying in bed watching grey's/criminal minds/dexter will do that to you apparently. i haven't even had a day to do single-girl shit in forever, so the gods of fitness can kiss my ass. in a similar vein, i had checkers for dinner tonight. fail fail FAILLLL.
tomorrow i'll be working, aka tell my boss how to spell things like "menu" and "verizon", going to 2 classes, gettin muh bangs trimmed, seeing Easy A with some russian bitch <3, and COAT SHOPPING! that's one of the things i love about living in florida-- you can put off buying freakishly expensive winter garments until way later than just about anyone else in the usa. that, my friend, is the win of the day.
also, a note completely worthy of passiveaggressivenotes.com fully popped up in the kitchen today. "the coffeepot has white mold in it. please clean it out." before you go "wow, that's pretty gross and actually a totally reasonable statement", consider 4 things:
1. it's my fucking coffeepot and
2. you don't even USE IT and
3. i've been listening to you have orgasms for a week and somehow still functioning without coffee for long enough that the remnants have grown mold. THAT IS PRETTY FUCKING IMPRESSIVE. so,
4. suck my dick. because i can write passive aggressive notes too. stay tuned... ;)
off to work on a project due friday that i procrastinated. (who, ME? procrastinate?! wash your mouth out with moldy coffee.)
xo with a vengeance,
-c
i've been having debilitating foot cramps today. too much baclava while laying in bed watching grey's/criminal minds/dexter will do that to you apparently. i haven't even had a day to do single-girl shit in forever, so the gods of fitness can kiss my ass. in a similar vein, i had checkers for dinner tonight. fail fail FAILLLL.
tomorrow i'll be working, aka tell my boss how to spell things like "menu" and "verizon", going to 2 classes, gettin muh bangs trimmed, seeing Easy A with some russian bitch <3, and COAT SHOPPING! that's one of the things i love about living in florida-- you can put off buying freakishly expensive winter garments until way later than just about anyone else in the usa. that, my friend, is the win of the day.
also, a note completely worthy of passiveaggressivenotes.com fully popped up in the kitchen today. "the coffeepot has white mold in it. please clean it out." before you go "wow, that's pretty gross and actually a totally reasonable statement", consider 4 things:
1. it's my fucking coffeepot and
2. you don't even USE IT and
3. i've been listening to you have orgasms for a week and somehow still functioning without coffee for long enough that the remnants have grown mold. THAT IS PRETTY FUCKING IMPRESSIVE. so,
4. suck my dick. because i can write passive aggressive notes too. stay tuned... ;)
off to work on a project due friday that i procrastinated. (who, ME? procrastinate?! wash your mouth out with moldy coffee.)
xo with a vengeance,
-c
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
dear roommates,
if you're going to fuck each other every night behind the backs of me and your other roommate (who would be totally fine with your torrid lesbian affair, by the way. we are very accepting people), you might want to keep the incredibly loud screaming orgasms to a minimum. and by minimum, i mean "i really don't want to fucking hear that ever again". this is upsetting to the max.
how am i supposed to study when there is porn happening approx 6 feet and 2 shitty doors away from me?
fml,
c
how am i supposed to study when there is porn happening approx 6 feet and 2 shitty doors away from me?
fml,
c
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