Reclaiming Miss Havisham

what has miss havisham been up to?

while not posting on her blog?  Well let's see.

First, I've been consummed by jealousy that I was excluded from the Decorno, SGM Palm Springs Scary Bitch Convention 2008.  I'm pretty sure this is age discrimination.  I may be young, but like I said to Amanda from Sucker for Marketing, I can drink vodka, order around waitstaff, and make dumb  jokes about men leaving the cap off the toothpaste just like any woman in their 30s and 40s. 

So Amanda and I (and any of you who are interested in taking things to the MAXXX!!!) are planning a revenge tour.  This is something I've wanted to do for a while. 

So you know how Southwest Airlines has tickets to really dumbass cities for about 30 bucks each way?  Well in San Francisco, that amount of money only covers about half of your veggie tofu scramble so why not use the money to see such exotic locations as Boise, Idaho!  We'll wake up, have some mimosas with breakfast and then hit up the World Center for Birds of Prey.  Then a quick outfit change, a couple of rounds of drinks and then we're off to the Idaho Black History Museum!!  At night we can eat 16 oz of steak and then mingle with the cowboys.

We can't stay in one place too long though, we take that show on the road and hit up

Lubbock, Texas
Omaha, Nebraska
Little Rock Arkansas
and Tulsa Oklahoma

The entire trip will be photo/video documented.  WHO IS WITH ME?  Screw those whores and the beach.  i hope they have sand in their panties.

ANYWHO what else is up?  Im reading some things:

It's been forever since I read this last.  Hopefully it'll make my writing less tragic.

natch.  OH and speaking of which.  I took an exam.  It was mostly review but I don't sneeze at decent grades in hard classes:

My roommates invited me to a party.  I asked beforehand, "Just lay it on the line, is this going to be the gayest thing ever?"  I was promised it would not be.  My roommate forgot to mention to me that it was a hat-required party.  I will shun her for 1 year.  I have so many excellent hats that could have been worn had I known in advance.  Oh and about the party not being the gayest thing in the world...

oh my god why did that flip on its side?  the one on the bottom (oh my god how wrong is that) is my roommate's boyfriend (roommate not pictured)  He's good looking and smart which is really all I ask of people.  Good for him for doing his part.

Do you want a close up of the tiny sombrero perched on that man's bald head?  Because I took one.

And then I took this picture to see how the color would come up on this fancy camera that doesn't really belong to me:

 

That's all I got for right now.  More later, bitches.

Buffalo Harassment

 

I receieved an e-mail from my sister with this picture attached and nothing but the words "buffalo harassment". She must have figured this description of her husband's predicament was satisfactory.   

Dating rules

Alright so I promised I'd write an entry about my experiences dating.  And I've been putting it off but you bloodsucking whores never seem to forget anything so I've been called out.  I also promised myself I would be more honest.  I don't feel like I have to blog about EVERYTHING, but it's a good exercise for me to face my imperfections (many) and not just bury it down and lie and present myself in the best possible light.  It's part of my effort to give myself a break and be less critical of myself.  So let's laugh at my failures!  It's not the end of the world!

So...DATING!  After my wretched break-up with my boyfriend of 3 years, I had the best of intentions when signing up for OKCupid.  My trusted friend Taryn was a member and seemed to have neutral to positive experiences.  Her opinion has since changed and her account has since been deleted because of an incident I have no business sharing here.  I don't think any of this is OKCupid's fault, and I'm still a member I'm just not going to meet anyone for a while.  Take a break and regroup.

I'm stalling.  Okay so here we go:

I do way better in person than I do on the phone or online.  I have a pretty good performance mode I go into so with any of the men who contacted me I wanted to go ahead and meet, have a drink, and not waste a bunch of time emailing back and forth.  I went into these dates REALLY blind other than the information given on the profiles.

Date #1 We met at a bar/coffee shop in lower haight.  He was an early 30s lawyer of some sort.  He dressed like much more of a hipster than I expected.  Black hoodie with band patches (I think...) I was a little turned off by the age inappropriateness of the ensemble.  Not that I expected him to be in a suit with a bluetooth (bluetooths headsets...blueteeth?....would be a total deal breaker for me btw)

we had a decent conversation and shook hands as we parted.  I thought he was gorgeous and emailed him later saying I had a nice time and would like to hang out again.  No response.  Honestly I think he was out of my league in terms of hotness and hipness.  No tears shed though.  ONWARDS!

Date #2 This guy was only in town for the summer on an internship at a law firm.  He's currently in law school at an east coast ivy league university but not the ones you are probably thinking.  He was really blond (boo) and had recovering fat kid syndrome which means he's super in shape and has to exercise compulsively.  The last I heard from him was me ending things after he stood me up to go rock climbing. He also wasn't really hip enough.  A little nerdy and over eager. 

Date #3 This one I saw twice.  A very tall half mexican hipster working for Louis Vuitton.  I thought he was hilarious but at the end of the day he embarassed me.  I didn't want my friends to meet him which is a bad sign.  Super good looking but he's 33 and only working a regular job because his real dream of his band taking off hasn't happened yet.  I just can't take people who want their band to be their career seriously.  He was unusual though.  He would ask things like "how's your hair?  what's your favorite sandwich?" instead of the usual "whats up"

The thing is, I'm already crazy.  I don't want some sort of insane rock and roll constantly travelling no committment no rules alcohol and drugs bohemian san francisco lifestyle that so many people cherish here.  If I lived that way I have a feeling I would go from 0 to Hunter- S-Thompson-shooting-my-friends-with-a-sawed-off-shotgun-because-I-hallucinated-they-were-a-grizzly-bear-attacking-me-insane really fast.

Date #4 This one I liked.  This was the only one I slept with.  I got WASTED because I was nervous.  He just is interested in casual flings which is on his profile but I didn't see until after the fact.  Too bad so sad for me.  Considering that I only remember a total of 20 minutes of our date and that's in hazy flashback memories, I'm not going to worry too much.

Date #5 This is where things start really going south.  So this guy EMAILS ME.  Not vice versa.  All profiles clearly state all important statistics about yours truly along with three straight forward, not deceiving photographs of myself (remember that for later).  There's no way I am trying to trick anyone.  So he wants to meet up at a local bar.  Fine.  I go. 

I get there and he is reasonably attractive, after some beer and coversation I am not really feeling a spark and I'm kind of bored.  BUT I'm trying to have a really great attitude about dating, you see.  Being picky is a character flaw right?  So anyways, this guy smells like he's been sleeping on the subway for about a week and that he also lost his toothbrush.  It's that particular flavor of body odor you only smell at outdoor music festivals.  Hippie funk.

I also learn he has completed no education greater than a GED.  I'm not even going to apologize for this being a deal breaker for me but with the infinite power of female forgiveness and willingness to create a fit where there is none, I made the conscious decision to give this guy a chance. 

So he's like egging me on drinking.  Challenging me almost "I can drink you under the table" things like that.  He keeps buying more and more beer.  I shouldn't make it sound like he was forcing me to drink. Obviously I am to blame for that.  I just would have stopped early into it had he not been so gung ho about tying one on. So by the end of the night I'm pretty drunk.  He asks if he can come back to my place.  I say I don't think that's a good idea for tonight.  I go in for a quick kiss and he blocks me pushing me back.  It's now he tells me that I'm way too young for him (he's 31) and he'll never be able to get over the age difference and that he was straight about that the whole time.  (his original email said "i've never dated anyone as young as you but you seem awesome and worth meeting)

Well I go on some sort of humiliating angry rant on the sidewalk.  I don't remember it completely clearly.  It's basically what you'd expect someone to do when they've had their ego bruise and their time wasted.  I wish I had told him how much he smelled.  I would say I took the high road but I'm sure I didn't.  I was a little hung over the next day and I was pissed. 

Date #6 This is another embarassing one.  After Date #5 I had made the executive decision to stop drinking.  Not altogether, but I just had been turning off all of my internal regulation mechanisms and throwing all caution to the wind.  I still haven't drank since that night a few weeks ago.  And when I do ever have a drink again I'm going to be more mindful about it.  Not just consume anything that is put in front of me.  Date #6 was the last one I went on, and it began my dating sabbatical.  It wasn't so much angry embarassing as awkward embarassing. 

So this guy...I feel so bad.  I hope he never sees this for any reason.  It's not his fault.  This guy was a silicon valley tech guy.  About 28 years old...nice....outgoing....and 95 pounds.  That wasn't something you could tell from his photographs.  It was definitely my sex and the city moment where the whole time I'm smiling and trying to be nice but in my head I'm screaming "THIS IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE I WANT TO GO HOME"  In a perfect world I wouldn't care.  It was just the story he told me about going on a medication one time that pushed him over 100 lbs and he and his friends had a party to celebrate.  He kept trying to put his arms around me and you could feel every single bone.  I felt like I could pick him up and just toss him into the air.  I don't know if he has a medical condition or what; I just knew I wasn't going to be the graceful woman who could see past it.  I'm curvy.  I weigh 150 pounds on a good day.  This was just not happening.

So there it is fools.  I hammered it out pretty fast and I don't feel like proofreading so just take what I give you and LIKE IT

Time for my morning hunt

My new research assistant, Melissa, sent me the following this morning:

I'll admit, when I pressed play I was expecting to be unamused by the seemingly endless youtube political satire but this is actually a really great one.

Best line: "It's about to rain SHARDS into the hearts of the American people"

traitors to the left

Desire to Inspire writes:

    "I am smitten with the portfolio of New York and Philadelphia based architecture and interior design studio B Five. Seriously smitten. I love the unpretentious spaces they create and there is something yummy in each of the photos. Glossy white painted floors, bright artwork, fun light fixtures, expansive windows, tiled fireplaces...and OMG that blue floor!!"

So I am looking through the accompanying pictures that earned such a frothy blow job of a review and for the most part I get it.  It's not my style, of course, it does NOT take it to the maxx, but it's worth a few seconds scanning on google reader:

okay...nothing out of place here...

this is a pretty room...nothing weird here...

nothing to see herrrrr....oh wait...could it be?  No...that couldn't be an Andy Warhol's candy colored  depiction of Mao Zedong, former leader of the Chinese Communist Party who totally publically executed 5 million counter-revolutionaries deemed too critical of the government and then totally purged hundreds of thousands more of their human rights and often their lives in the Chinese Cultural Revolution and was one of the worst enemies of free speech and political thought as well as, ya know...mass murderer the world has ever known? 

I don't have time to figure it out now but it sure looks SUPER CUTE IN THE LIVING ROOM!.  I gotta go pick up my kids from soccer practice!! Ta!!!

Try try try to not get shot

Greetings you delightful bitches!!

As you can see I'm on the upward swing of this great pendulum of mental illness.  I feel great.  I'm telling my brain to SUCK ON IT whenever I get really hard on myself like when I spend the past few days taking bong rips with my friends and eating everything in sight.  Bender is over now though.  I'm back on the healthy diet thing.  Oh wait we're not calling it a diet.  Effort to eat better.  And I need my brain to study for an exam this week.

You may wonder why I've chosen the movie poster for Battle Royale for this post.  It's my cheeky reference to the fact that the crime and violence in San Francisco has been RIDICULOUS lately.  We're in the middle of some sort of gang war.  MS13 v Nortenos or some shit.  I would be nervous about even writing "ms13" on the internet but the news is all over it.  So is Orpah.  Which is where I believe I first learned of MS13.

If you haven't seen Battle Royale and you like horror movies I would recommend this one.  It's about putting a class of students on an island and they are forced to stay there until only one of them is left alive...the victor...the survivor.  Kill or be killed.  I imagine this is a part of gang culture?  no?  I'm from Nashville so I wouldn't really know.

Luckily I don't live in the Mission district which is where in the past 3 weeks seven people have interrupted the path of bullets with their bodies.  This is more than can be said for the skinny white hipsters living their vegan co op dreams in the mission.  They probably don't find the camp value of living in the hispanic ghetto all that adorable anymore now that some 15 year old gang banger is probably going to MURDER YOUR FACE.

I get pretty into local news.  I'm surprisingly unconcerned with national and world news though.  The Sarah Palin thing amused me for a second but now I'm bored again.  Since most of the seven of you that read this blog do not live in the Bay Area I want to remind you that THIS MAN is my mayor:

Who is now married to this woman who I'm sure is just a wealth of mental curiosity and ingenuity. 

"we're good looking!!  Except for this guy!!"

I'd want to lick his face if he didn't appear to be covered in a film of tears, cocaine residue, and woman's skin cream.

I'd also be worried that he wants to connect a car battery to my nipples:

That's all I got right now.  More later.

Listen!!!

via Olivia (Jane Q. Public)

Just a little something I starred on google reader.  Mostly because it's its the most heartwarming and reassuring image I've ever seen after Sarah Palin was introduced to the nation.  Seriously, guys, it's a right wing Breeder from Alaska and she has every democrat in the country is rocking and humming and softly weeping in the fetal position in the corner while clumps of hair fall out. 

Let's get our balls out of our purses and deal with this situation like Barak Obama would before this woman shoots us full of tranqs from an elephant rifle or moves in to my Uterus full time to make sure nothing else goes on in there. 

This picture also is exactly what I have had to say EVERY day at work since this whole outbreak situation went down.  I don't want to go into too much detail but sometimes in animal research colonies (vivariums) a contagious virus can get some mice sick.  It's usually because a researcher didn't decon properly.  Basically the mice need to be retested and then sent to a better mousey place so other mice in other rooms don't have to go to the same place.  It's expensive and can set a doctor's research back years.  (REMEMBER TO DECONTAMINATE EVERYTHING PEOPLE) 

The researchers are worse than a sewing circle.  I spend a huge part of my days coddling middle age men.  Trying to soothe them with soft words.  I'd stroke their heads if that were appropriate.  Someone is starting rumors that we're just gonna euthanize ALL THE ANIMALS.  There are other equally silly rumors someone in a white coat wanders into my office daily to ask me about frightened.  Actually it's the same researcher.  He is known to panic about office gossip.  May be a french canadian thing?

So now that I'm almost an hour late to work and sick as a dog with some sort of depraved trail mix of allergies, flu, or strep, or all of the above.  I just have to suck it up (the snot in my face) and saunter into work to once again announce....EVERYONE CHILL THE FUCK OUT!!

I TOTALLY got this!!!

Good Brain/Bad Brain

I have been on a string of really bad, humiliating dates.  I was basically never going to talk about any of them again, but I don't want to just squirrel these experiences into the nether regions of the mind only to be brought out again when I want to remind myself how I'm a loser and how everyone else on the planet is fucking impossible to get along with. 

I'm most comfortable when I'm totally and brutally honest, even if that makes me unfavorable or abrasive.  The second I start trying to spin something or cover something up or gloss over it, I snowball into this scavenger, opportunist mode where I lie and manipulate my way into and out of most situations.  It's kind of all or nothing.  Often times if I don't admit something to someone else, I won't even admit it to myself.

So the dates, I know you are drooling for the juicy stories, you breeders re-living their 20s through this blog.  I'll get there, don't worry.  I should first mention that I've decided to hurl myself into the touchy-feely world of self-help psychology.  I spent a long time selecting a book I wanted to buy.  I didn't want any of that silly Tony Robbins horsecrap.  No daily affirmations.  No trust falls of any kind.  I chose one that is basically conceptual Buddhism without the Buddha, which is ironic considering I had to withdraw from Buddhism at DePaul because of an...ahem...personality clash with the professor.

This is the one I chose.  I can't BELIEVE I'm endorsing this kind of book on my blog.  How has it come to this?  How has it NOT come to this sooner?!  I live in my head.  I have since I was a baby and they told my parents I was severely mentally retarded because I would sit and play by myself and just smile all the time without making many noises.  I didn't talk for a LONG time.  It didn't help I tested false positive for a rare genetic disease during those tests they do at birth so my parents were taking classes to deal with a special needs child and then j/k I'm actually not retarded.  (whatever evidence there is to support this, I have none to offer...I do know that had I had the disease in question, I would have only lived to be about 5 years old so Leslie-1 Disease-0)

but yeah ME ME ME.  Children are starving in China and I'm worried about being a mid twenties neurotic in California.  So predictable.  Basically the book advises being accepting and mindful of all thoughts and situations, good and bad.  The therapies that have people suppressing negative thoughts and thinking positively just turns us into naive robots.  There are times your brain needs to process unpleasant information and react accordingly. 

The voice in my head, from which my body and self takes all of its instruction, is NOT a higher power.  I feel like after a lifetime of hearing "be true to yourself" and "trust your instincts" and "follow your heart" and "trust your dreams" have set us all up to believe that the information our brain provides us is infallible.  The Happiness Trap has really helped me separate myself from every single idea that my brain comes up with.  It's about just hearing everything you have to come up with and then saying, "Okay, thanks for all the ideas, Mind, but I'm going to listen to the ones that are helpful"  You're supposed to actually thank your Mind.  It's supposed to help you take yourself less seriously (this was never my problem).  I forget that my inner dialog, my thoughts and feelings, do not come from a God, or some sort of authoritative third party.  My inner voice is a neurotic 24 year old, possibly retarded, scrappy woman.  Sometimes, that is NOT the person you want to listen to for good advice. 

I'm needlessly mean to myself, in both the average female ways ("you need to lose weight or you'll never be happy" or "your face is hideous, if you were prettier you'd be happy")  and also in some more fucked up ways like pulling the top layer of skin off of my legs with tweezers, only washing my hands with very hot water, denying myself food, water, or sleep if I've done something particularly regretful.  I find little ways throughout the day to punish myself. 

So inspired by my new 6'2" spirit guide (a health nut worm killing scientist in Utah I've never met in real life only online through I Suwannee) I'm trying to make some changes so I don't WANT to punish myself all the time.  I'm making concerted efforts to eat way better and I have.  I'm walking more.  I'm thanking my brain for the nasty negative comments but choosing to not waste my time worrying if they are right.  I'm not drinking (that's for DAMN sure) and I'm seriously seriously working on quitting smoking.  Several days this week I didn't smoke at all.  Yesterday I had one.  It won't happen overnight. 

I'm always going to be cynical and sarcastic and biting.  That's the way I should be, because it's just how I am.  I just need to draw the line when this attitude turns into me bullying myself.  I think I'm even rubbing off on my boss who is like a 65 year old Vince Vaughan eternal frat boy but with WAY greater anger management issues.  He told me he's sick of being bad cop and wants to be the good cop.  Something tells me this is actually a ploy where he wants to trick everyone into thinking he's good cop so they'll let their guard down before he goes bad cop medieval on their asses. 

OFF LIKE A PROM DRESS!!  More later..  About the dates...I swear.  I have so much I want to write.

Back off, hippies.

So I'm from the Southeast section of the Bible Belt.  Nashville, TN.  Everyone thinks they live in the Bible Belt but this is for REALS, Y'ALL.  Anyways, among it's many accomplishments, Nashville is the headquarters for Soutnern Baptist or the SBC, the largest division of Baptists.  Whatever. 

So one summer there was this major SBC conference, or convention, or pow-wow, or jaw session, or pep rally, or conclave, or assemblage, or some shit.  Normally the Baptists are a pretty exclusive clique I think and don't do much "soulwinning" but this one special summer 100,000 Baptists on top of the Baptists already in Nashvizz were going to TAKE IT TO THE STREETS!

Everytime the doorbell rang our shoulders tensed, a slight quivering of the muslces in our stomachs,we held our breath and looked worriedly at each other.  The dog would bark and I'd jump ten feet into the air, limbs tingling.  I'd have to nervously peek out the front window just to be sure we weren't about to be hit.  They could come at any time.  The second you settle in with a good book or when you're just about to have dinner, or you're drifting off for an afternoon nap, that's when the Baptists come.  Don't tell me I don't know what Vietnam was like.

The first time it happened the dog started barking as they walked up the driveway.  My mom, so as not to be so loud someone outside could detect a presence, yelled to me "WHEN THE DOORBELL RINGS DON'T MAKE A SINGLE SOUND...STAY OUT OF THE LINE OF THE WINDOW"  As soon as the bell rang all of the blood rushed to my head and all I could hear was the throbbing of my pounding heart.  After a while I was still scared to move.  My mom said "That was close.  They are so annoying and never stop talking"

I know they are just bible thumpers and totally harmless, but the intensity with which my mom treated these Jurrasic Park style drills really took it's toll on me who is already pretty squirrely and stressed as it is.  The drills would definitely send me to Stress Level Raptor. 

I didn't recall any of my hit-the-floor training this past weekend when the new predator first struck: the dorky democrats. 

So it's 8:30 saturday morning.  My bedroom is at the front of the apartment so when someone comes up the stairs to ring the bell for any of the three apartments in this building, I hear a little bit of it.  I was already starting to wake up but hadn't even considered getting out of bed yet.  I hear my neighbors upstairs bell go off.  A pause.  A moment later the next neighbors bell goes off.  I take a peek through the curtains to see who is out on the stoop.  I see a young man with an armful of paper and signs.  He's in what I believe is tapered denim and a tucked in Obama tshirt.  And a belt.  A wave of complete contempt for my fellow man washed over me as I thought "Oh GOD that guy TOTALLY wants to talk to me about something important to him."

When my doorbell finally goes off I consider not answering it but I think he may have seen me look through the curtains and would know I'm blowing him off.  Why would I care?  I don't know.  So I get up wearing my comfy pants and a XXL tshirt from a bar in chicago and I slip on some sparkly dress flats because they were the only slip-ons right by the door.

Dork [formally]: Hi I'm here with the Democratic National Party and we're trying to get Barak Obama elected as the next president of the United States of America!

Leslie: [blink....blink....stares and waits] I mean what are my options?

Dork: If McCain and Palin are elected it will be like four more years of the Bush administration.  Is that what you want?

Leslie: who?

Dork: [frustrated] I'm giving out voter registration cards if you or anyone who lives here needs one.

Leslie: oh no we're all registered thanks [shrugs apologetically and begins closing the door]

Dork: Oh miss!  Do you want an Obama sign for your window?"

Leslie: what? no.  Do you want me to sign something or what?  Everyone here is obviously voting for Obama so I'm not sure what more the Democratic party wants from me at 830 in the morning?

I mean what the good god damn was he thinking preaching Obama in Lower Haight?  I cannot think of a bigger waste of time.  I mean it was just a mind numbing waste of time.  I almost started drooling.

busy beeeeeee

I feel like a lot has happened.  It's mostly just these tiny dramas that we all have in our own selfish spheres that wouldn't matter to anyone else.  My parents came to visit.  My father is drinking too much, but otherwise things there are relatively good.  They had to bail me out financially which I hate.

I'm back in school.  It feels awesome.  I just take two hard as balls chemistry classes on tuesday and thursday afternoons at SF State.  Going to a really good (high ranked) University used to be so important to me. It was so unjust for our high school college counselor to brainwash us into so much educational debt.  One of my best friends attends architecture school at a fantastic state university on a full ride scholarship.  She had herself convinced that attending any grad school that wasn't top tier, ivy league or it's southern equivalents, were just not worth it career wise.  This is a brilliant woman who almost considered passing up education because she feared the school was not good enough.  How fucked is that?  How the hell did education because competitive?  Can't we all just do what we need to do for ourselves? At 45 thousand dollars a year, Tulane give me little more than the satisfaction of going to a US News and World Report top 50 school.  What that money didn't buy were professors who hated and resented us, classes taught by grad students, cockroach infested dorm rooms, and probably the largest collection of assholes in one location ever seen until this most recent Republican National Convention (oh YES! zing! sweetass political joke there, folks)

An associate at Baker and McKenzie once told me that if you can't go to a top 10 law school, you shouldn't bother going at all.  I just remember looking her in the eyes and thinking "wow, this woman and I live on two different planets"

SF State is beautiful, on the ocean, and my two professors are completely inspiring.  They're easy to get in touch with, they teach their own classes, and they aren't so wrapped up in their own research that they forget they are in fact professors.  And I refuse to believe that because I go to a state school they are some how teaching me the poor man's biochemistry.  Do I have to pony up tens of thousands more so Stanford can teach me the real deal?  Maybe I'm just trying to convince myself.  But I do enjoy this pass at school with a little bit of age and maturity (what?!) tacked on since the last round.

I borrowed my ex's camera since everyone was all up in my grill about the shitty cell phone pictures.  I'm going to hang on to it for as long as he'll let me.  I love it so.  Sometimes I nuzzle my face up against it like a cat.

And as punishment for the whining, now you have to look a lot of really boring pictures:

Dog butt.

Who watched Full House?

If you are very still and empty your minds of every thought you can gaze silently into the heart of the very homes of San Francisco and if you hold your breath and listen you can hear the sigh of satisfaction as one young budding San Francisco liberal finishes his first David Sedaris "novel"

Ignatius loves Alamo Square Dog Park!

There ain't no hope for slope

This mangy little gentleman was my favorite.  So ugly.  So delightful.  I repeatedly told him out loud "you are perfect!"  The owner looked at me like I was nuts.  He just looked like he needed to hear it.

I LOST ONE OF MY CONTACT LENSES!!! QUICK HELP ME LOOK!

I can't believe he's riding an old boneshaker while wearing socks with nature mandals*
It's not right.

This is what it looks like when critical mass is coming at your fucking face

If you did this in an airport bathroom, you would be in for a long night...trust me.

This place looked adorable and delicious but I saw a woman in there wearing Lilly Pulizter and I sprinted in the other direction sobbing hysterically

mmmm displays of deliciousness

*mandal= man + sandal