i should just design all clothes

did you know about thumbholes?

i've owned like two hoodies.  ever.  until moving, and now i have like five.

but only a few have thumbholes.  they're like gloves, but where i just tuck in the fingers when they get cold.  and i can be sure my hoodie is wrapped around like a hug on me.

so, if i could design all the clothes:

thumbholes for all long sleeves.

pockets on fucking everything.

i probably should say "and it's all cotton," but to be fair, over the past few years, i've converted to spandex and polyester.  yes, i know i'm wrapped up in plastic like a tray of hamburger, but i like that squeeze, and i like the smoothness.

"what even is this, sammy?"

this is what you get when i drink once a week instead of constantly.

i get a lot of crazy dreams that disturb me.





i have a few story thoughts.  it's weird when your brain is clear to come up with what i did in the past.

can people comment?  if you get a "comment rejected" or "comments not allowed" message, send me an email, and i'll try to sort it out.  i have a vague idea someone did that before, but i can't find it.

ugh

so i moved.

and i know basically nobody here, so it's similar to before i moved, except there i just alienated everyone i knew.

but i thought, "oh, hey, let's try the online dating stuff again, see how that works out."

i filled in all the junk, answered a bunch of questions, and selected the "i'm not an asshole, i'm ok with most people, as long as they're not jerks."

and then looked at the first batch of matches.  #3 on the list, with a 97% match rating: my boss.

i did the totally grown up thing, and deleted my account.  why can't things just be easy?  i guess it's nice to know that i'm not the absolute only one left in the office who doesn't have any kind of family, but still.

ugh.  between this and the constant fact that i have to be afraid of fascists completely destroying the government, i kind of wish i were still crazy.