Jesus Christ, shut up about the GLEE GQ photoshoot already I don’t care if Lea Michele wears pants or not. I extra specially don’t care whether or not you care about that. You know what I care about? I’m not wearing pants (YES) and also spilled tea on myself (NOOOO).
I think the baristas at Coffeeshop Of Choice now recognize me This is not an inherently bad thing, I am just irrationally self-conscious/embarrassed by it. I think because I have my own regulars, and while roughly 80% of them I am genuinely glad to see there are some that are annoying, and I groan internally when I see them walk in. I think I am just really afraid of being one of those, you know? What if I am “that girl who always asks for more hot water because she’s too cheap to buy another tea?” Or, I mean, I know I am that girl, but what if that is really annoying?
Pushup bras. I feel just by manufacturing these – especially in A cup sizes – you are implying to me that I must be pining away for more cleavage, and that is emphatically not true. Also, I think I am bothered by what seems to me a legitimate deception in wearing “enhancing” lingerie; if I am wearing this, Bridget Jones-style, so that someone is more likely to take this bra off me and see me naked, will they not just be surprised/annoyed that I in fact have a chest like a thirteen-year-old boy? I don’t know, this is confusing and irritating to me as a concept.
The “punk panhandlers” in Harvard Square. Really? You have the nerve to make a sign asking for beer money while wearing a Misfits hoodie that probably cost $40 when there’s an alcoholic stroke victim on the other side of the newsstand? Grow a pair and either get a job or go back home to your parents’ house, you’re an embarrassment.
I feel like a forty-year-old woman saying this but I really want a garden You know what you can grow in a garden? KALE. And TOMATOES. And then you can EAT THEM. Without paying like two dollars a pound. I don’t ask for that much out of life, I don’t think, but that is one thing I would like to ask for. KALE PLANTS.
I have made the possibly-inadvisable and still totally retractable decision to “apply to grad school.” It turns out this is really intensive and requires 1) paperwork 2) talking to people/asking favors of them 3) having to read/judge my own work 4) meeting a variety of deadlines 5) inviting other people/institutions to very literally accept or reject me. THESE ARE ALL MY FAVORITE THINGS. obviously. Omfg Jesus though really, this is already stressful and I have not actually even “started” per se. Hold me.