I am not a lesbian, I just enjoy a nice pair of tennis shoes and a flannel shirt every now and then.
If you preface a conversation with me by saying “I was watching a Hoarders marathon” I’m going to instantly like you and will probably believe anything you tell me. I love that show and have always said: “hoard hard, hoard on, hoard hard-on!” I’ve actually never said that–until now–but those are most definitely words to live by and so I shall.
I get angry, sometimes very angry (especially when sober), and when that happens I throw things and call people cunts. Ten minutes later I’m usually hammered.
When I’m having a good time, I throw around the c-bomb–a statement of the obvious at this point. It throws people off and, hopefully, makes them think I’m British. G’day mate. Wait, wrong country. F’off yew fokin cunt wanka! See?!
When socially awkward became the new black, I thought for sure things were looking up for me. But now I know that is not true. I also know that social awkwardness is not, in fact, what ails me, rather a strange combination of body odor, lactose intolerance, and anxiety.
I do not live in the land of the appropriate and I hope this blog will serve as a visual reminder of that fact.