I Demand to Know Your Reasons for Writing a Blog, Dammit!

There have been many moments in my life where immediately after the moment occurred, I thought to myself, “No one ever needs to know about that.” And then I proceed to obsess over it again and again in my head because I’m so embarrassed that moment ever happened, and it becomes such a problem that I have to write about it. (One such moment, I was having sex with an asshole at his mom’s house when I queefed so loud they probably heard it in the county over.) I was so embarrassed that I wrote about it. And that’s how this blog came about. These posts are a collection of the things I do that I wish no one knew about, but in the end it makes me feel better when the faceless masses of the internet can laugh at me.

I’m currently living in LA, having an emotional breakdown about the start of my career, and consuming chocolate on the daily like I’m getting paid to do it. My young life has been a string of shitty jobs (I once had to research the ingredients of a tic-tac for a boss because he was concerned about the health ramifications) and shitty houses (I’ve lived in a frat house. Now I live with ten crazy strangers. One of them is hiding a python in his room). I’m terrible at being a girl. I’m sadly complacent with the irony that the more embarrassing things I do in my life, the more readers I attract to my blog. When I’m not committing life-ruining faux pas, I endure lesser awkward moments that define me as the awkward person I am.

Some examples to get a better picture of me:

I once ate rice with my fingers because I didn’t want to walk to the kitchen and get a fork. I literally scooped up rice with my hand and dropped it in my mouth. Related, I once dropped rice on the floor, picked a hair off it, and ate it anyway. I have never vacuumed.

One time I stared into the mirror and watched myself chew food with my mouth open. It was fascinating and gross and think I may have the mental age of a three-year-old.

I recently played “The Floor is Hot Lava” by myself. I have no friends.

Once I ate 18 cookies in one day. This is not an exaggeration. They weren’t mini, either. They were adult-sized cookies. I’m also lying when I say “once”.

There was a time I pulled an all-nighter watching multiple “Pregnancy Surprise Announcement” Youtube video compilations. I cried, I laughed, I ate massive amounts of ice cream.

Sometimes I let my room get so messy I have to jump from my door to the bed because I can’t find the floor. Why? Because I’m a piece of shit.

 

I’m glad I have these moments to get out all my weirdness. Although as my mom says, “You know if you get married, your spouse is going to see all this stuff and then promptly leave you.” Luckily, I’m like, super into cats. Spinster life, here I come.