kitten4money

Today at the courthouse I over heard people laughing and saying out loud IN A PUBLIC BUILDING that they are voting for Obama. 

One guy said “You know we gotta give him four more years!”

I just needed you to know that this happened and that these people weren’t young, trendy white kids. They were real people. And even though we all know that Oklahoma is gonna be redder than a Taylor Swift album tomorrow I thought that maybe this could give you some hope for the rest of America. 

I used too many of my stupid paid time off days. 

So now I have to be here with a terrible cold and canker sore on my throat that is causing me severe ear pain. 

I just need to cry about it for a little bit and look at pictures of Tulsa kids that moved away to PortlandBrooklynLosAngelesOuterSpace and think “Do they ever get sick have to go to work?”

I used to do the same thing with people on commercials when I was sick at home in bed. 

“What if they were sick when they filmed this commercial?”

Like we had some sort of cosmic connection because I was watching a film of them when they were sick while I am actually sick. 

I got this prescription throat spray that is basically just numbing the shit out of my entire mouth, which I completely hate. I am always terrified that I am going to chew off half of my tongue while eating and not notice until there is blood in my cheerios. Gross, sorry. 

One of the lawyers just got here. Asking me about certified mail. Thanks to my degree in letters I am really fucking good at solving most mail problems. I am the one who brought this office stamps dot com. Revolutionized this place. No more trekking down to the post office to buy stamps from one of the three perennially disgruntled older ladies that work there. 

Well, dudes, sorry for this lame post about nothing. Maybe one day I will stop feeling sorry for myself a write a little more. But I did just get cable and I straight up watch every prime time comedy so… probs not.   

Kay?

kitten heels

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pencil skirt

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child-birthing hips

1) Cut as much of your hair off as you can emotionally handle.

2) Realize you can stop caring about bullshit if you really want to. 

Me: “I am scared about you guys being on the boat with no phone or internet.”

Boss: “I know, me too. But you know you can use the Amex to call us on the boat for emergencies.”

Me: “What constitutes emergencies?”

Boss: “Like if my mom dies, but don’t call until you know when the memorial service is. Also don’t call if my mother-in-law dies or if any of her brother’s die. And if my dog dies don’t tell me, I would rather have a nice vacation.”

Me: “But I’m watching the dog? What do I do if it dies?”

Boss: “I just told you! I will be on vacation. You need to learn how to self-delegate.”

“What side of the bed do you sleep on?” he asked after the final push that put the mattress in place. 

“I don’t know yet.” I replied. I surveyed my old bed in my new room. It was still a couple inches from the wall, still a little hesitant of the new surroundings. 

‘Is that choice you make?’ I thought.  Once, after a break-up, I was so miserable I decided to start sleeping on the other side of the bed.  And somehow, it fixed something. Somehow, I slept better and woke up less devastated. 

That night I couldn’t sleep. I was cold and convinced that something was moving in the walls. 

When I finally slept for an hour before work I dreamed that my little brother was yelling my name. A loud and forceful and frantic yell that had me sitting straight up in the middle of my bed. 

This happened to me yesterday. I told Brogan that it was like I was living on Pinterest. The very best part is that no matter what happens next I always get to remember that moment of seeing my name on the sidewalk and feeling like the luckiest girl alive. Sometimes it is so hard to remember that the good times and the bad times are separate. I always try to lump them together into this sparkly sludge of “everything.” But in reality some times are really good and nothing gets to change them and some times are really bad and you can never change them either. 

But let’s be real, I better get to at least make out with this guy, right? 

Also, super sorry to the internet for posting this everywhere… cain’t stop.

I watched girls in flimsy neon dresses ride a mechanical bull in front of a bar. The same sort of girl in the same sort of dress operated the bull. 

The girls got on in pairs and clung to each other with dizzy, drunk smiles on their faces. As the bull vibrated and rocked the neon dresses scrunched up the girls thighs and revealed butt cheeks and underwear and more and more. Speed gathered and the half-naked bodies pushed to

Laughing guys recorded the rides on their cell phones and kept checking to see if what they were doing was “okay.”

When a particularly showy ride ended the operator would hold up a clear bucket of cash and holler that she accepted tips. 

I wondered if she got the job from her years of experience as back-stabbing bitch. Like one day after sleeping with with her best friend’s boyfriend she realized that she could surely find a way to turn her passion into a profit. 

“That girl had purple stretch marks!” said my brother, with equal parts delight and disgust. 

I thought about my own purple stretch marks, some had lost their color but still had texture, like a dried out river deltas carved into the widest part of my hips.

I’M JUST DANCING ON MY OWN AND DOING MY BEST LEA MICHELE SINGING FACES BECAUSE IT’S FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I really love this photo…

goodgrieferin:

working title: “learning to be”

choruses are among the many things my songs lack.

The best little chicken I know made this perfect song.

After spending the last 3-100 hours reading and watching stuff written by talented, clever, intelligent, feminist young-ish ladies on the internet I have come to a conclusion. 

I must not actually be as funny or cute or ADORKABLE or witty or charming or manic pixie dream girl as I think I am because I don’t self-describe myself as AWKWARD.

Sure, I have had some awkward moments, what with me being a human and all that jazz. To prove it to you here are my top five examples (from least knuckcle-bite inducing to most):

5) Any time I carry an object that isn’t really heavy but is unwieldy and have to transport through some sort of door.  AWKWARD. THAT IS THE BEST USE OF THIS WORD. 

4) The other day I told my boss that someone was “gay in their butt.” Would this joke be funny to my peers? YES. Maybe even if my peers were gay? POSSIBLY YES. Was it offensive to my 40-something gay boss? YES. She proceeded to ask me ‘what does that even mean?’ I told her it was stupid, I am stupid. My whole generation is stupid. All straight white girls everywhere are stupid. But none of that helped. THAT WAS AWKWARD. SHE COULD HAVE FIRED ME RIGHT THERE AND I WOULD HAVE SAID ‘FAIR ENOUGH.’

3) At a work party once I asked a black woman if she was friends with the other black woman there and then she said “yes?” and I said “oh I just saw you two walk in together,” and she said “no we didn’t” and I said “OH SORRY I AM OBVI A  RACIST WHO ASSUMES ALL BLACK PEOPLE ARE FRIENDS.” Ok I didn’t say that but I did just walk away because the damage had been done so… THAT WAS AWKWARD.

2) When I met Casey Affleck, BECAUSE WE WERE CAST IN THE SAME FILM, I told him that “he might remember from molesting him in his childhood.” (Hint: In the film I molested his character as a child.) AND HE DIDN’T LAUGH OR EVEN COMMENT ON THAT. THAT WAS AWKWARD. HE IS CELEBRITY THAT IS ALSO THE BROTHER OF A CELEBRITY. WHAT IF HE TOLD HIS BROTHER AND HIS BROTHER TOLD JENNIFER GARNER?

1) Once I was doing a sexy naked handstand for my boyfriend and I queefed - like 5 times.  It was the grossest moment of my life and I just told you about it. THAT WAS AWKWARD! WHAT DO YOU DO AFTER THAT HAPPENS? AND I JUST POSTED THAT ON THE INTERNET - WHAT IF MY AUNT READ THIS? THAT WOULD ALSO BE AWKWARD TO DISCUSS WITH HER!

So there you go! I am not immune from awkwardness! And I am pretty sure that I experience it just as much as every other human. BUT I REFUSE TO HIDE BEHIND IT LIKE IT IS SOME SORT OF LIP-PLUMPER LIPGLOSS THAT JUST LIES TO EVERYONE ABOUT WHO I REALLY AM. 

I am confident. A lieeeettle too confident maybe sometimes.  And gosh darn it, I think that it is  A-OK to be a confident girl. My mom didn’t even have to tell me that. She showed me it by yelling at people in Wal-Mart parking lots for not dressing their children appropriately for the weather. 

The point is I am not getting my rocks off on telling people that I don’t fit into some sort of norm. There is no normal. This was confirmed by me when I started working at a criminal law firm and saw that sometimes really lovely people in the world who also happen to rob banks with guns and make meth in vans. Normal does not exist, at least not in America. 

I make mistakes and say stupid stuff and occasionally wear crotch-biting high-rise dress pants with comically ruffly tops but good lord in dear sweet heaven, that does not make ME awkward. 

And guess what… YOU AREN’T AWKWARD EITHER. You interpret and respond to social cues the majority of the time. You keep your toots, farts, sharts, burps, belches, and other gastrointestinal dilemmas to yourself most of the time. You have never groped the elderly or the childerly inappropriately in front of their care takers (hint: don’t do this away from their care takers either, turns out it you go to jail and are forever on the sex offender facebook page.) 

You are a girl (or a boy, that likes reading what I write because you are a) gay or b) confused about how to get me to sleep with you.) You are funny and nerdy and sweet and generally lost all of time and you do cry during those GE commercials about wind turbine manufacturing. But  OH MY GEE you do not have to be awkward. It is not the fucking world’s job to make you feel like you do not belong. It is your fatherfucking (feminist!) job to MAKE THE WORLD YOUR BITCH (not thaaaat good of a feminist.) !!!!!!

Do you think that you will be able to loved a little easier because you can call yourself out on your ‘awkwardness’? THAT IS NOT A TRUTH.

You will be loved because you love yourself. You will be loved because you know you are WORTHIER THAN SHIT of being loved. I meant that in a good way. 

SO LISTEN UP EVERY LAST THING OUT THERE THAT EITHER a) has a vagina or more likely b) just self-identifies as something girl-like YOU ARE NOT AWKWARD AND I (/THEWORLD) WILL NO LONGER ACCEPT YOU DEMEANING YOURSELF AS SUCH. 

In the name of Uncle Jesse we all say, capische? 

Capische. 

WELCOME TO THE WEEKEND. 

MY BOYFRIEND BOUGHT ME A RECORD PLAYER AND WE MADE PLANS TO MAKE OUT TO SOME VINYL.