Saturday, August 1, 2015

dear me,

maybe our hurricane preparedness kit should contain more than two bottles of vodka, a case of water, and four boxes of pop-tarts, two of which you've already opened and started eating.

just saying.

love,
me.  you.  you know who i am.  you are.

ps. fuck this whole brain.

Friday, July 31, 2015

actual conversation from work today

her: "yeah, i think i've been working too hard."
me: "yeah, me too."
her: "no, but like, see, it's making me crazy."
me: "i kind of am beyond that point now."
her: "no, yesterday, somebody asked if i was having suicidal thoughts."
me: "oh."
her: "i mean, of course not, but they really were worried.  it's not like anyone has asked you something like that."
me: "..."


so go me for

  1. apparently holding it all together at work
  2. not having any friends who would notice things and ask questions like that
  3. whining about everything on my blog


also time to fucking bawl my eyes out

wow.  i'm totally keeping my mental illness together today!

just banging through this depression and suicidal thoughts!

wheeeeee!


i'm like a whirlwind of DEATH AND PAIN AND HATRED THAT WILL CONSUME EVERYONE!

wheeeeee!


fuck

today's thursday, not friday.

shit.

time to mop up blood.

woo.

go me!


ok, but

have you ever looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror while you're washing your hands?

and made weird shapes with your lips while you do so?  maybe add a bit of tongue in there.

now imagine like an octopus or a snake or a slug making that shape.  that's fucking gross.

but not when you do it with your lips.  that's weird.

"ok, seriously, sammy, maybe you need to not be drunk so so much."

no.

i need to be drunk this much all of the time.


here's a link.

yes, ok.  i'm ugly and gross.  and i go out of my way to not make friends.  and i'm pretty sure i'm a fuck up at work.

but

read through that whole thing.  it looks like the comments went a bit crazy, but that is so much how i feel every day.

"nice job being awful, sammy.  did you write anything?  did you do work stuff good?  did you figure out how to take out your trash like every fucking normal person can do?

"nice job, sammy.  great job at life.

"worthless bitch."

so yeah.  welcome to how my brain works everyday.

sorry.

sorry everyone.


Thursday, July 30, 2015

ok, so:

"European Union laws require you to give European Union visitors information about cookies used on your blog. In many cases, these laws also require you to obtain consent.

As a courtesy, we have added a notice on your blog to explain Google's use of certain Blogger and Google cookies, including use of Google Analytics and AdSense cookies.

You are responsible for confirming this notice actually works for your blog, and that it displays. If you employ other cookies, for example by adding third party features, this notice may not work for you. Learn more about this notice and your responsibilities.
"

i mean, ok.  if you're an "European Union visitors", i guess this is for you?  i guess there's a notice?

like, i'm not trying to give you cookies or anything.  i mean.  if you want cookies, you should have them.

but not my cookies.  those are mine, and if you take them, i might just cut you.  cookies + sammy 4 ever.

anyway, some sort of political computer shit.  i don't care.  probably no one cares.

stuff.


Monday, July 27, 2015

dear drunk sammy from last night,

are you doing well?  i hope you're having a great evening.

just wanted to let you know that i received your gift.  "one bite of chocolate cookie, mushed in a ziplock bag, and then rolled over in the night so that it's all melted and crushed" was right where you left it, underneath the pillow.

maybe in the future, you can leave more than a single bite, or, alternatively, just eat the whole cookie and be done with it.  just suggestions for you to mull over.

anyway, i need to get to sleep at some point, so i'll let you get on with being in the past.

love,
right now sammy who kind of wanted to eat that whole cookie herself

Sunday, July 26, 2015

wwwhhhiiinnne!

shopping for jeans sucks.

"ok, those look fine."

NOPE.

"maybe these?"

NOPE.

"maybe just a size bigger?"

NOPE.

"are you stretchy enough?"

NOT FOR YOU, BITCH.

shopping for jeans fucking sucks.

Saturday, July 25, 2015

party dream

we're all outside, and having this giant picnic.  i know no one there, but am offered enough drinks that i eventually get to a stable point where it's not just a giant panic attack.

"hey, we're going to go watch the movie!" so we all start heading inside.

she walks up, holding a garbage bag.  "is that empty?" she asks, pointing at the champagne bottle sitting next to me in the grass.  i pick it up, and swirl it, and we both see that it's still about half full.  "seems like a waste.  pop it open."  just from the swirling, it's become agitated and the cork pops out (ok, so it hits the wall, so we're inside now?  dream scenery is hard).

she takes the bottle, and takes a long drink before passing it back to me to finish.  she then takes my hand and we go off to watch the movie.


which is a documentary about tax collection in england.  because why not.  it's a dream, so you can watch anything at all.


ok, also?

if you're going to have a pet dog, and then tell that dog that they can't go into a room, don't be a fucking jerk about it.

like...

here:


this dog is like, "i want to get this thing back, but you told me not to go in there, but i can't get this thing without going in there! bark bark i am frustrated!"

you have to let that be ok.  i mean.  sure, dogs aren't super smart about everything, since they're dogs.

but, like, they're fucking dogs.  they're not super smart.  if you say "never can go in here," that's like a big fucking deal to them.  they can't like, "oh, but i'll just pop in and get that thing and it's ok."  it's like "MURDER WILL GET YOU IF YOU GO IN THERE FOR ANY REASON!  MURDER MURDER DEATH DEATH DEATH!"



i guess today's point is: reassure your pets.  make sure that your pets know you love them a lot, and that if they make a mistake, you're still totally going to love them, because they're fucking awesome.















Friday, July 24, 2015

nightmare

i had a dream this morning where i was sitting on my couch getting ready to go to work.  "wait, isn't it the weekend yet?"

"no," said "mother" (not my mom, that's just the name the giant not-human thing sitting next to me had in the dream).  "it's monday."

i woke up in a panic that after working all week, it was actually the start of another work week, and had to check my phone to confirm that it was really friday.