My eyeballs are ruining my life. I'm so tired of dicking around with correcting my shitty vision. I've worn glasses since I was in 2nd grade and contacts since I was in 6th. I think I deserve a fricking break here.
The catalyst was taking my glasses to the eye docta to have them bent back into shape after a drunken smashing accident, and of course, the minute I got home and put them on, they snapped right in fucking half. (Um, and what's up with things exploding upon my person as soon as I try to wear them? I'm secretly concerned that it could be my hawtness that causes items that would normally cover my beauteous features to burst…)
I don't know. Maybe this is my sign to throw my nuts onto the table and go get LASIK. I'm just scared because while contacts suck more balls than Sienna Miller, they sure beat being completely blind or having gross halos everywhere. And plus, there is still the whole apocalypse thing. When that shit goes down, I'm hosed and essentially blind. Even in the short-term, if someone broke into my house to mutilate me, I couldn't see to kill them in the face/run away. And I guess if I did go completely blind, it wouldn't be all bad 'cuz I could just drape myself in velvet and not give a shit.
What do you think?
When the Annihilatrix Booshes the World
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I have recently found myself thinking about the apocalypse…with eager glee. Like, wouldn't it be great for humanity to be thinned out a little? Just the idiots who rape babies, act like ignorant dickholes in movie theaters, and otherwise fail to function in civilized society. I blame Max Brooks for my current obsession with this subject, but I also terrorist fist bump him for bringing it up because it's always good to be prepared, right?
Prior to the day of reckoning (provided that the planet is still inhabitable etc. etc.), I've decided that I need to get the following shit together:
1.) Learn how to use a gun without accidentally killing Dan in the face
2.) Learn to make my own beer
3.) Get a cat carrier like the ones you strap to your chest and put babies in (cuz NO, I'm not leaving Burtie behind)
4.) Get Lasik, or else like I'm really toast
5.) Learn to make/collect clean water
6.) Memorize the local terrain so I can get to safety (i.e. Ronald and DaNelle's cuz you know those bitches will pwn Judgment Day, then produce beautiful spawn which will lead collective humanity back to some semblance of order someday)
7.) Get a serious survival kit
8.) Cultivate a useful trade for post-apocalyptic society, cuz while I am indeed a brilliant tech writer, I don't foresee the need for software manuals so much as like food and shelter
What kinds of end-of-the-world-trade are you hos going to pursue?
Prior to the day of reckoning (provided that the planet is still inhabitable etc. etc.), I've decided that I need to get the following shit together:
1.) Learn how to use a gun without accidentally killing Dan in the face
2.) Learn to make my own beer
3.) Get a cat carrier like the ones you strap to your chest and put babies in (cuz NO, I'm not leaving Burtie behind)
4.) Get Lasik, or else like I'm really toast
5.) Learn to make/collect clean water
6.) Memorize the local terrain so I can get to safety (i.e. Ronald and DaNelle's cuz you know those bitches will pwn Judgment Day, then produce beautiful spawn which will lead collective humanity back to some semblance of order someday)
7.) Get a serious survival kit
8.) Cultivate a useful trade for post-apocalyptic society, cuz while I am indeed a brilliant tech writer, I don't foresee the need for software manuals so much as like food and shelter
What kinds of end-of-the-world-trade are you hos going to pursue?
Letters of Angst: Part Murder Was the Cayse That They Gayve Me
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Dear Lurkey Co-workers,
Why? Why you gotta camp RIGHT outside the World’s Best Shittin’ Bathroom to eat your lunch? Then stare at me like I had just crapped out your whole family when I give up trying to wait you out like 20 min later? Dude, it’s hard enough for me to poo in public without you chatting right outside the goddamn door at Organ of Corti-shattering volumes, but then you make me do the walk of shit shame and you don’t even bother to act like you’re not horrified. Don’t you know it’s common courtesy to pretend like you don’t KNOW what was going on in there? God.
Disgruntles viscera,
Summie
Dear You Tube D-Bags,
You grossly underestimate how much I DO NOT want to hear you sing along with any given song. Like, what do you think is gonna happen from this? That Beck will be Googling himself and see your stupid gay video that you made of yourself sitting at your computer and shrieking “Debra” and think, dang. That girl is amazing. I should bone her? Or maybe you think someone will see it and think you’re amazing and want to bone you as you sign a record deal? Gross! Gross, gross, gross! Like, be productive and go do Karaoke! Or kill yourself! Just stop that stupid shit.
Disdainfully,
Summie
Dear Beast Master,
You pussy. Seriously. One time, the other cat Piper accidentally got shut in a closet for four days and did she piss herself? No. I got home from the trip, heard her yowl, let her out and she furiously bee-lined it for the litter box. But you. YOU. You wander your skinny ass into the closet and get locked in for four HOURS and piss on EVERYTHING in site. Like, dude, I had no idea you could hold that kind of volume in your tiny mass. So I kind of hate you right now and am so tired of drowning in a sea of cat urine that I’m about to skin all of you bitches and wear you as adorable hats/earmuffs.
Febreeze,
Mommy
Why? Why you gotta camp RIGHT outside the World’s Best Shittin’ Bathroom to eat your lunch? Then stare at me like I had just crapped out your whole family when I give up trying to wait you out like 20 min later? Dude, it’s hard enough for me to poo in public without you chatting right outside the goddamn door at Organ of Corti-shattering volumes, but then you make me do the walk of shit shame and you don’t even bother to act like you’re not horrified. Don’t you know it’s common courtesy to pretend like you don’t KNOW what was going on in there? God.
Disgruntles viscera,
Summie
Dear You Tube D-Bags,
You grossly underestimate how much I DO NOT want to hear you sing along with any given song. Like, what do you think is gonna happen from this? That Beck will be Googling himself and see your stupid gay video that you made of yourself sitting at your computer and shrieking “Debra” and think, dang. That girl is amazing. I should bone her? Or maybe you think someone will see it and think you’re amazing and want to bone you as you sign a record deal? Gross! Gross, gross, gross! Like, be productive and go do Karaoke! Or kill yourself! Just stop that stupid shit.
Disdainfully,
Summie
Dear Beast Master,
You pussy. Seriously. One time, the other cat Piper accidentally got shut in a closet for four days and did she piss herself? No. I got home from the trip, heard her yowl, let her out and she furiously bee-lined it for the litter box. But you. YOU. You wander your skinny ass into the closet and get locked in for four HOURS and piss on EVERYTHING in site. Like, dude, I had no idea you could hold that kind of volume in your tiny mass. So I kind of hate you right now and am so tired of drowning in a sea of cat urine that I’m about to skin all of you bitches and wear you as adorable hats/earmuffs.
Febreeze,
Mommy
Bathing Suits are Stupid, Lame
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I'm pissed. PISSED! I bought a brand new bikini for this summer, and it was all cute and red and like straight out of my mom's bathing suit selection circa 1986. A-fricking-dorable. I wear the thing twice, and the piece of shit breaks. Like I'm sitting there shoveling a perfectly grilled hot dog into my face and I hear a POP as the bra clasp snapped. Fortunately, I had a tank top on, so at least there was no Girls Gone Wild.
So I'm like fuck, but oh well because I have a backup bathing suit. I go put that fucker on, spend 3 whole seconds in it, and one of the plastic rings on the bottoms exploded. It was like Hiroshima in my pants. Thank god there were no innocent bystanders to A.) get blinded by my pale ass and/or B.) get killed in the face by bikini shrapnel.
And what really pisses me off is that like I'm not even gloriously fat and destroying bathing suits with my delicious big ass. They're just shittily made fake underwear that cost $40. Ug, so now I'm left having to buy yet ANOTHER bikini, which is about as much fun as killing then boiling your own pets.
God damn it.
So I'm like fuck, but oh well because I have a backup bathing suit. I go put that fucker on, spend 3 whole seconds in it, and one of the plastic rings on the bottoms exploded. It was like Hiroshima in my pants. Thank god there were no innocent bystanders to A.) get blinded by my pale ass and/or B.) get killed in the face by bikini shrapnel.
And what really pisses me off is that like I'm not even gloriously fat and destroying bathing suits with my delicious big ass. They're just shittily made fake underwear that cost $40. Ug, so now I'm left having to buy yet ANOTHER bikini, which is about as much fun as killing then boiling your own pets.
God damn it.
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