so a few weeks ago, i had to do this thing that i hate more than any other thing including men who protest abortions*, which is practicing on actor patients, except this was FILMED and i just got access to the tapes and i feel like i’m really doing a disservice to the world by not letting people laugh at me because it’s like truly endless material, but on the other hand i don’t want to ever show anyone ever and i hate that they’re online at all because what if the site gets hacked and someone plays it on the jumbotron at a phillies game and the phanatic never learns to love me?
i think this is the most GROWN UP problem i have ever had.
*EVEN the megaweinery boomer men who have signs that say “DONT TAKE AWAY MY RIGHT TO BE A FATHER”
if instead of going to this is hardcore, anyone wants to come over and lay on my floor and listen to the pulp album of the same name and read quietly and eat stone fruit, you’re invited.
i will NOT have coldies but i DO have campari, so like, decide who you are, i guess.
unsuccessful in all attempts to pull my life together, i am currently sleeping baggin’ on the floor with some microwave popcorn and seltzer.
this morning i talked to a woman for a thousand hours about how being OF A CERTAIN (our) AGE and single and choosing to stay in/not go out is a revolutionary act, but this was all happening at like quarter after eight on a sunday morning checking out at trader joe’s which is nothing if not the antirevolution. so, long story short, i have enough dried mangoes now to last through at least the part of the apocalypse before netflix goes down and we hang ourselves in solitude.