Squishing About in My Brain

Archive for July 2011

WOW, THAT was a shitty excuse for a June! Shittiest ever, in all of my 42 years. NEVER use the phrase, “It can’t possibly get worse!”‘ or “How can this possibly get worse?” because it can, my friends…it absolutely CAN…and probably WILL if you invoke the above phrases. Never think your words don’t have power, no matter what they are.

But, as I crawl back from the edge of madness, I am slowly but surely (well…relatively surely), becoming more social again.

Be that as it may, my re-entry into the blogosphere is a less weighty one. Hey, baby steps, people.

For your reading…enjoyment…I present a not-quite-random sampling of texts sent from my phone lately. I am not giving you context, or anyone else’s texts, just mine. You can thus see how fricking odd my brain/life is, firsthand.


Next blog will be “better”.


8 hrs of sleep should automatically mean you are happy & well-rested. Period.

I forgot to cancel match.com and they just took $60. Fuck.

What I hate about shows like The Bachelor & Bachelorette: these are always pretty–albeit stupid–people who can get dates anyway. That seems a flawed premise.

When I get up, my feet hurt so badly that I have to hobble to the bathroom, holding onto shit so I dont fall. This greatly angers me.

Ahem…Im bored. At work. Shocker. I believe it should be way later than it is right now. Something must be amiss with the atomic clock.

Dear Douchebag: it’s humid, fucker, that’s why the machines aren’t setting perfectly. Yell at me one more fucking time. I will show you fucking “ridiculous”.

Dear June: you’ve been the shittiest month in many a year. So, good riddance & FUCKING BITE ME!

I hate makeover shows where they throw all your clothes away. They are rude to their victims and basically tell them they arent good enough to choose their own clothes. I just watched part of one…and they are just flat out unkind.

My car is so hot it hurts.

Outside to store for ten mins…can’t breathe now. Fuckin Iowa weather.

How can one f up The Doors? Dipshit.

I’m gonna Manga Chelle when I can finally get my lic & car reg taken care of.

I don’t like Springsteen. I do like Mike though.

Yeah. I’m so beaten down now I can’t see straight. But I feel like I’m thinking somewhat straighter now. But for now, I’m just lying in the dark, watching The Name of the Rose & trying to calm down enough to sleep.

OMG my mother is so fixated on my registration being two days over June that she is fucking going to bring me getting pulled over & ticketed into being by fucking worrying it out loud into existence! gaah!

There’s a line in Cat On a Hot Tin Roof about drinking until he feels “the click”; he’s waiting for the disassociative click. I’m not drinking but I feel my click coming on here at work. It’s almost like…peace.

There’s a peanut in my belly button. Damn gluttony of body parts!

Yes, Max is my pawed-wan. The Force is strong in him & his lessons are progressing nicely. We have only to keep him from the Dark Side & we shall succeed! (Okay, ONE explanatory note: Max is my friend’s kitten in Chicago)


Hmmm…that’s it for today, kids. See you next time when I talk about shit that you might find relevant or something.




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