Sunday, January 25, 2015

"Because only squares eat square pizza, and only fags eat dicks, so your both."

point 1) i've had square pizza, and although it's usually breadier than the triangle-arc style, i never felt weird about it.

point 2) i'm pretty sure girls eat dicks too, otherwise getting a blowjob would be some sort of magic that people wouldn't know about.  "did you know you could come if someone sucks on it?  how does that even happen."

point 3) your.  sigh.  even if this guy is like 12, he should know homophones.  please, everyone, make sure people know about homophones.


also have this, which i just don't even.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

have i told this new story?

read this first.

i'm visiting my friend again, who's now on the west coast, so it's all new and exciting to visit a new place.  but hawaii to mainland flights are scheduled at "impossible o'clock," so i get in at like 5am.

since she's super smart and loves sleep, she sends her husband to pick me up.  but at some point, he needs something from the glove box.

i legitimately can't remember what it was.  phone charger?  maybe?

whatever it was, it doesn't matter, because sitting next to the car book thing is my knife.

again.

it's super dirty, and the one rubber "stabby grip" that was always loose is gone, but when you've known a knife like i have, you'd recognize it anywhere.

"Yeah, that's it," he says as he grabs whatever it was and then the box is closed and i'm sitting there half stunned fighting jetlag as we drive home.


i kind of want to send her a note and ask that she take my knife out and drop it in the ocean.  give it to the whales to sort out.  whales are smart, right?  they'll do the right thing.


Saturday, January 17, 2015

updates on thingsn


  1. did you know if you lazy press keys to make your browser autocorrect to "sammytriesagain", you might end up just pressing s enough times to spell ss, which is apparently a nazi thing.  oops.  please don't think i'm a nazi, google.
  2. did you know if you stop drinking when you've been drinking to treat the crazy that kind of consumes your brain when it isn't doing other things, then your brain kind of just channels that crazy into horrible anxiety about everything?
    1. so i maybe ignored your email if you sent me one, because i can't deal with conversations right now.
    2. and if you posted comments that i read, didn't understand, and then panicked about, i also probably couldn't deal with that either, so i just ignored them instead of trying to respond to all the comments.
    3. or if you follow my tumblr, you'll notice that it all kind of stopped about wednesday, because that was when my sanity broke a bit, and i woke up in the middle of a conversation with imaginary people.
  3. speaking of imaginary people, i have a new random story to finish.  i had a dream thing, and then because alarms are made by the devil, my alarm went off before it could finish, leaving me in the purgatory that is the world outside of your dreams.  i've plastered over the main plot hole with pizza, because that's how i cope right now.
  4. pizza is awesome.
    1. so that's why i reblog pizza porn when i see it.
    2. and why i follow a pizza porn blog.
    3. and i keep wondering what the most efficient money/pizza frozen thing is.
      1. those shitty totinos party pizzas that aren't enough for one person?
      2. pizza rolls, which at least attack with flaming guts when you try to eat them.
      3. french bread pizzas, which seem like they're trying to be fancier than they are
      4. hot pockets?  they're kind of gross, but also kind of a calzone.
      5. are the pizza bagels you buy as good as making them yourself?
        1. note that my fridge is kind of a horrorshow of mold.  i need to gather enough sanity to clean it out, i think.
  5. i will try to pull myself together this long weekend to respond and be social and pretend i'm human inside.  i hope everyone here understands that i'm not, and i have to struggle to do normal things.  i know i'm not that great of a writer, so i'm grateful for people for doing that understanding.
    1. butt.
    2. not butt.
    3. really.  putting together a "what's wrong with me" thing is super painful.  i guess imagine having to tell someone you're sick, but like you have to stab your arm in five places so your boss knows your arm doesn't work.  or you keep coughing, but you have to have a lung removed and sent through a scanner for it to count.  that's how i feel most days.  like my brain is going to object to stupid shit just because it can.  at least at work now i just have to claim i'm sick and not prove things.  i'm "whatever the word is where it means you're not being oppressed by those who run the means of production for their own personal enrichment at the expense of all other concerns."  i want to say proletariat, but i don't work in a factory, so that seems wrong.  i am a bad communist.
    4. like, that's probably not even communism bad.
    5. sorry.
      1. super sorry.
    6. did you know getting automatic numbers is bad for things?
    7. because you then come up with reasons to make more.
      1. more is cool.
      2. more is better.
      3. people like things that come in threes.
      4. you can avoid complicates mental health issues by diverting the topic along a tangential sub point.
        1. like this one about puppies and how cute they are
      5. and avoid the trouble you might expect from that divergence.
  6. six.
  7. seven.
  8. ate.
  9. nine.
  10. but, really
    1. there's a new shit story from a dream that's going up this weekend.
      1. it's half written
      2. it's not been done in my usual
        1. notes
        2. first copy
        3. rewrite copy
        4. reread for sanity
        5. post
      3. style.
      4. it's the
        1. write a copy.
        2. make sure the copy isn't just the word "poop" a bunch of times.
      5. version.
    2. it's not really that bad, i could probably make it better if i could focus why my brain chose her and that topic and that location.
    3. new thought?
      1. i have two exhibition parts planned still.  
        1. "illness" has been dragging out for four months or so.  
        2. i know how it goes down because i have the notes sheet.
        3. it still doesn't have any sex, but i really think it sorts out a lot of the social aspects of the story.
          1. "office" is the next next, and i have it half planned right now
            1. with the second half fake planned in my head.
        4. i don't know how to finish this story, so it may just drag on forever.
          1. it's not a "happily ever after, the end" thing
          2. or a "you see how they fuck shit up, and it closes just before it all comes tumbling down."
          3. how does macbeth...romeo and...caesar...
            1. do they all end with everyone stabbed and dead?
            2. fuck.
              1. i'll need to write something new, then
                1. i guess.
      2. poop.
        1. probably not poop.
  11. ok.
    1. i'm tired.
      1. so it's sleep time.
      2. good night.
      3. sleep tight.
      4. bedbugs are jerks.
        1. stab them in their face.
    2. bye.
  12. blog.
    1. a post.


Wednesday, January 14, 2015

i wish i knew how to have real human conversations.

instead of just freezing up and avoiding all the time.

it'd probably make me seem like less of a freak and more of a normal person.

oh well, time to avoid some more conversations and not go on a date.  yay!  go me!

Sunday, January 11, 2015

i think i'm sick or getting sick

i've been shivery and either too cold or too hot all day.  my tummy is all grumpy, and i threw up lunch.

i think if i feel like this tomorrow morning, i'm just going to call in sick and go eat soup.  grumble.

i guess then i'd have time to sit down and actually write the next chapter instead of outlining a new one.  like i did for a bit this evening before i got distracted and stopped.

that moment

where you wake up (like really, or the similar youtbe thing)

and just shiver forever, because it's a cold weather thing i guess.

and then curse that shitty cold weather we had for more than a week.


some of us don't wear clothes to bed, the weather.  try not to  be such a dick, ok?

i am tired of crying

today i've been crying.  a lot.  for stupid reasons.

i saw a video with a puppy and a kitten being friends.

tears.

i looked up something on wikipedia and ended up reading about space missions to mars.

tears.

i tried to figure out if i could go to the arbys in the navy exchange in pearl harbor even though i'm not in the military, i just want the arbys that i can't get since they closed at ala moana.

tears.


these are stupid reasons for crying.  i don't want to read "the rover stopped working 904 days into the mission, 901 longer than expected" and then start bawling.  it's stupid and wasteful.  yes, i know i personify my computers more than i should.  i know i called my old phone, a "stupid useless old dried up cunt."  i know i called my new phone "sexy master ass-bot".  to be honest, though, my new phone is so super much better than that stupid useless old dried-up cunt.

but like, i didn't sleep with space rovers.  or a puppy and kitten.  or arbys.  i regret like two of those.

i think i'm just random sad in weird ways.   which totally sucks.

a bunch.

and here we go.  no tears now, not when it's for sammy.

you're such a jerk, brain.







Saturday, January 10, 2015

new year, new post, same old crazy

hey.

i wonder if anyone else feels like they've just stepped onto a stage in some sort of bar or club or restaurant or someplace like that, but seriously i've never really been to a place with a stage, so i'm making things up. when they write a blog post.  ok.  so i fucked that joke up.  i'm off to a great start at this.

i have a bunch of things i want to say, and although i've been coping well this past week, it's always easier to wait until the weekend when i can drink and let myself be free to do so.  because that joke i fucked up.  right?  you get what i'm going with?

ok, thing 1:  i did more doctor stuffs, and the doctor sent me an email with the instructions "avoid alcohol, eat healthy, exercise more."  so, i'm lying here in bed, kind of drunk, and i have a sleeve of poptarts that i'm totally going to eat in a few minutes.  you're not the boss of me, doctor jerkface.

thing 2:  i need to go back to therapy.  this leads to point 3, so

point 3:  going on vacation for the holidays was super healthy.  ish.  things that were good: three year olds are kind of 50/50 jerks and super cute.  she punched me in the face, and was sent to the corner, prompting her to cry and scream.  she was told she had to apologize to me, and so she fell to the floor to cry and scream some more.  "do you want to watch your animal show?"  "yes."  ANIMAL SHOW TIME.  "i'm sorry i punched you."

and then your heart melts and you just want to give huggy squeezes to that tiny jerk.  it's this kind of moment that makes me regret my "maybe let's not have kids, ok?" plan.  not that i have partners for a kid plan anyway, but whatever.  little kids are cute when you don't have to clean up after them.

things that were less good:  "yeah, so if he doesn't shape up, i think i'm just going to divorce him.  she'll live with me, since i'm more capable than him.  i figure i'll just find a sex friend and that'll replace him."  not what i was expecting.  is he a kind of lazy unemployed dude?  yes.  does he not shower as much as i think people should shower?  yes, but he totally did that before they married too.  do i feel super weird when she's not there and it's just the two of us, and we have to try and pretend we're friends independently, when we both know we're not?  duh.  still, i don't htink them getting divorced is the best strategy (which is, obviously, him not being dumb and getting a job and being productive and shit).  "couldn't you be the sex friend, sammy?"  ew.  ick.  no.  she's like my sister, you creepo.  "sammy, you're totally on the elsanna ship, and they're sisters."  but not like my sister.

it's like i shoot ice into the hearts of everyone around me, and i'm afraid i'd do that to people i care about if we had a relationship.  does that make sense?

things that were unexpected: "so...yeah, i think i might see about going back to therapy.  i've kind of felt depressed recently."  "oh?  really?  you think?  which part of 'i'm a grumpy muffin about everything that doesn't involve puppies' tipped you off?"  i guess i put off depressed vibes in real life too.

"should we call your people now and set up an appointment for you?"  "uh...no...i'll do it when i get home."  "are you sure?  we could do it now, we're not doing anything else."  "yeah, it's ok."  "ok, but let me know when you've done it, so i can stop reminding you."  i'm...i'm really not used to having someone point out my mental issues, kindly assure me that they're on my side, and then try to get me to sign up with a therapist while they can watch and help.  this is weird to me.  i still haven't made the appointment, but she keeps reminding me, and isn't going to stop until i do it.

honestly, i've been so long without friends who are helpful and interested in helping me not be crazy, that having someone come out and do that is weird.  i wish i could fix my social anxiety enough to make this a common occurrence.


but really, who calls someone a "grumpy muffin"?  really.  that was what she called me.  "grumpy muffin."

thing 5:  you maybe didn't see it, but Key, or the collective known as Key, or the blog with stories you should totally be reading because it's great (if confusing, but still great) did an Eroticas Rehabilitas where she reads stories and fixes how things went wrong at the end.  for me, of the Exhibition stories.  the that me, that's the fiction me.  except not to fix things, because i'm trying really hard to make exhibition not the same lame "and then the cage was welded shut forevers.  FOREVERS!"

first, the erotica rehabilitas stories are brilliant, and if you're here, you should go read them.  unless you wrote them.  then, just, like....bask, i guess.

second, i forgot, but it was probably self deprecating.  i try not to be a jerk about things, which is why i'm so awesome, right?

stuff 5:  i really want to get the last known part written this weekend.  i think i have a clear gap of almost-sanity available to write it, and even though it's kind of zero sex, and the conflict is pretty lame, i want to get it done, and see what my brain comes up with to follow it.

yes, there's that story.

and that one, but you never fleshed it out.  "ON A FARM" isn't an outline, sammy.  that's three fucking words.  put some effort into it.


thanks for reading all this nonsense.  i'm going to try and see if 2015 can be a better year than 2014.  and i'm going to try to write more if i can.  i just want to be better than i feel i am.














Thursday, December 25, 2014

hey.

i'm sorry i've been shitty this month.  i went back and read my blog, and felt super sorry for everyone who had to read my shit.

"you're drunk right now."

You're drunk right now!

no...wait, no, you're right.  it's me...i'm drunk right now.  sorry about that.

yeah.  i know i had the bad liver shit, and the "let's try tea instead!" stuff.  i did that, but this last week before christmas has been horrible for my brain, so i went back to drinking, because vodka is the friend that never tells you you're too fucked up to write a blog post.  basically, it's the friend you wish your other friends could be, and that's probably why it's a bad idea to become alcoholic, and also, similarly, why i'm kind of glad i never grew up knowing people who sold heroin, because that sounds like the kind of friend who hugs you until you die.

deep breath.

sorry for getting weird (again) (always).

and sorry, for realsies, for being depressing and useless and junky all month.

i hate when my brain is like this, and i wish i could fix it, but almost everything sets me off in the wrong way.

sorry for that too.

sorry for being sorry all the time.

sorry that that is something i have to say.

here's the thing, ok?

i have problems.  a lot of problems.  you can't fix them, you probably can't help, unless you're one of like three people.  four people.  i do know real people in real life.  four.

i know i'm shitty at life.  i know that we'd all be happier if we could all look at my corpse as a lesson for other people.  i know that at least four people would be horrified and sad of that thought.

so.  i'm trying to keep me alive for you, for them, for me.  too.  i guess.

i hate being this mess, and i hate that i force other people to deal with my shit.  that's not fair, because everyone has to live their own life, and they all have to deal with shit that's probably far worse than i do.

i'm a pretty, pretty, princess who never fucking grew up to accept that no one cares what you do when you get old and fat.

sorry.  sorry for being sorry.  sorry for making you think you need to comment about how i'm not so shit as i think i am.  i'm a jerk for fooling you into making such a lie.

i'm just so sorry for everyone.

sorry.