Friday, October 29, 2010

The Way I Live Now.

I am OK! Kind of!


I had been in monogamous relationships for four years and, well, now am not in one. Rather than, I don't know, go to India and eat and pray on shit, my life has become a series of escalating idiotic experiments. Every day (and, admittedly, mostly under the influence) I've taken to doing things in a way only someone who lives alone would do. It started out very slowly, like accumulating a good deal of junk. Then my bed became my desk, because then I didn't have to leave my bed to start work in the morning. Then I bought a box of juice pops that were very delicious. I ate some. I loved them. Then I decided that I could eat them for breakfast without consequence.

This morning I ate my popsicle for breakfast while in the shower, still drunk, singing Lil' Wayne's Right Above It. My favorite line is "Women are possessive, and they try to possess Wayne."

I sing it "Women are possessive, and they try to possess me."


Thursday, October 28, 2010

Gross #12

People I made out with last night:

1. Crazy girl whose name I thought was Oral for a while, and who is DEFINITELY a squirter.

2. Funny little guy whose "chosen name" is Make, whose "given name" is something I can't remember, and who followed me out when I left.

Whoops and whoops.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Dumb #1

Eddie (8:42 am): WOMEN'S SUFFRAGE
Me (11:53 AM): LOLOLOLOLOL
Me (11:53 AM): SUFFRAGE, WOMEN'S SUFFRAGE

Monday, October 25, 2010

Text from My Mother.

"Forgot to tell you that I was looking for sea glass and found upper dentures...I wonder who they belong to?"  1:55pm


"I thought of you when I found them." 2:03pm

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Gross #11 (Sexual Harassment)

Last night, I went to a bar with some friends. Some of their other friends showed up a bit later; one of them was a girl who's been telling everyone I pooped in her backyard during a party (Gross #9). They sat separately from the rest of us. I got my friend Tad to give me her number. Here are all the text messages (sexts) I sent her between 1:37 and 2:40.

(Just for the record, reading these sober is kind of horrifying. And I can't believe I typed out the lyrics to a Selena song.)

Me (1:37 AM): I (heart) u so much. Love, David
Me (1:38 AM): I think about you all the time. (heart) David
Me (1:38 AM): I want to poop inside you. (heart) David
Me (1:39 AM): Your vagina would look beautiful with poop on it and in it. (heart) David
Me (1:40 AM): When I jerk off to you, your tits are being ripped off by swords made of poop.
Me (1:40 AM): I jerk off to you everyday, poopgirlfriend.
Me (1:40 AM): My butt and your mouth need to go on a date.
Me (1:41 AM): I want to be inside you.... Via poop.
Me (1:41 AM): I want you to burst open from all my poop inside your body.
Me (1:41 AM): Imagine my poop slammin your clit.
Me (1:42 AM): I want you to vomit my poop onto my dick
Me (1:43 AM): I made a likeness o your clit out of poop, then ate it
Me (1:44 AM): Even though you are the worst, your poop makes me reeeeally hard
Me (1:44 AM): I'm coming
Me (1:44 AM): I'm coming
Me (1:45 AM): I'M COOOOOOMMMMMMIIIIIIIING
Me (1:45 AM): UGH
Me (1:45 AM): UGH
Me (1:45 AM): UHHHHHHHHHH
Me (1:45 AM): YEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH
Me (1:45 AM): I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUU
Me (1:45 AM): AAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH
Me (1:46 AM): I WANNNNNAAAAAA MARRRYYYYYYYYY YYYYOOOOOUUUUUUUUU
Me (1:46 AM): YOUR VACANT, DEAD EYES ARE MY SOOOOUUUULLLL
Me (1:47 AM): YOU YELL LIKE A BITCH LIKE MY SOULMATE
Me (1:48 AM): I neeeeeed to poop-fuck you again soooooooon
Me (1:49 AM): My angel.
Me (1:50 AM): My soulmate
Me (1:51 AM): Yo pussy is so fly
Me (1:51 AM): I love you
Me (1:52 AM): I love you
Me (1:52 AM): I love you
Me (1:52 AM): I love you
Me (1:52 AM): I love you
Me (1:52 AM): I love you
Me (1:52 AM): I love you
Me (1:52 AM): I love you
Me (1:53 AM): I love youI love youI love youI love you
Me (1:54 AM): I raped your dad with my poop and he died from it.
Me (1:56 AM): YOUR DAD WAS MY LOVER I MISS HIS COCK AND ASSHOLE EVERY DAY
Me (1:57 AM): His mouth begged for my poop, beautiful, beautiful
Me (1:58 AM): A haiku: Pooping in his mouth/ he cries with glee, I love him/ with my man's butt hole
Me (1:59 AM): I ove him i love you i love him i love you you're perfect so perfect marry me marry me marry me my daaaaaaarling
Me (2:00 AM): Gonna tear your pussy open with my pooop, consensually
Me (2:00 AM): Gonna love dat clit with my poop
Me (2:02 AM): Run and tell that, poopgirl, pooppooppoopgirl
Me (2:03 AM): I'm obsessed with you
Me (2:03 AM): I NEED TO BE WITH YOU FOREVER
Me (2:04 AM): BE ME LOVER LOVER LOVER
Me (2:05 AM): I WANT YOUR ASSHOLE TO BE FULL OF MY POOP
Me (2:08 AM): Sosexy
Me (2:08 AM): Dying to be fulla my poop
Me (2:09 AM): You're perfect
Me (2:10 AM): You're an angel
Me (2:22 AM): Ya pussy like butta made from gold
Me (2:40 AM): Late at night when all the world is sleepin', I stay up and think of you... And I still can't believe that you came up to me and said I love youi: I love you too. And now I'm dreamin' of you tonight, 'till tomorrow- I'll be holding it tight! And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be... Than here in my room, dreaming about you and me


(Whoops.)

Friday, October 15, 2010

Gross #10

Earlier today, I decided to walk to a coffee place a few miles from my house. I walk here a few times a week. I stopped at a taco truck on the way and bought four awesome tacos. I ate them while I walked, and I was so absorbed in them I started walking completely in the wrong direction, and didn't realize it until I finished the last one, looked up, and found myself a mile back. Also, my hands were really sticky for the rest of the walk (because of sauce, obviously).

In conclusion, (1) it took me a really long time to get here, and (2) tacos are the best.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Gross #9

Earlier today, my roommate told me she needed to ask me something in private and led me out to the backyard. It turned out that she needed to ask me whether I took a shit in her friend's backyard. That is apparently something her friend is telling people I did.

So, cool.

Anecdote

Also, I just used some toilet paper from a roll that has a little bit of pizza stuck on it.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Gross #8 (Lisa)

Lisa: I'm guessing all you ever post on The Worst are things about your diet and our communication.
Me: Hahahaha, also my sex life is REALLY gross.

That said, here are some recent texts from Lisa. Almost all about her vagina.

Lisa: There is something like a tambourine sticking out of my vagina and I think you could help me identify the song it's playing.

Lisa: This song is about my vagina.

Lisa: If I get laid first I'm going to rub my armpit smegma on your cheek. Goddamn, smegma is not in my phone's predictive text.

Lisa: Got a number. Gonna stretch my coozie out soon! :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :(

Me: I can put hot wax on it.
Lisa: I don't trust you with my coozie.
Me: Do you have a penis I can put hot wax on?
Lisa: No, but whatever penis I find is MINE

Lisa: Feels so good. I'm going to finish dehairing my cooz, shower, get ready for work and then come over.
Me: :) :) :) :)
Lisa: Is that a human centipede or are you happy to see me?

Lisa: Como se dice labia?
Me: No idea. Actually, I think you'd just say labios.
Lisa: I don't have hair on my asshole anymore either.

Lisa: My roommate has a filthy hairy back!

Me, Drunk, Eating.



Croissantwich with extra cheese and hash browns.

Someone handed me a pancake they didn't want. So I made it into a combo. I am a sandwich monster.

And this is a different kind of sandwich monster.


Saturday, October 9, 2010

Dear Diary, Mood: Desperate

The last time I expressed my personal feelings over the internet was two minutes ago on Twitter.But, beyond just a mere sentence or two referring to today's bowel movements, livejournal was my haven for angst-filled, Dashboard Confessional inspired paragraphs on my middle school boyfriend's crater tongue, and hours worth of AIM fights with my best friend.


I like to think I've slowly evolved away from delving my personal life all over the internet, but now that people can disperse their narcissism over so many websites, my narcissism really has no limit. I post pictures on tumblr, write facebook statuses and twitter updates and mobile updates and poop updates and likes about poop updates to almost a thousand of my closest "friends".

I really do miss my Xanga/livejournal/deadjournal at this point. At least I got to decorate them. My internet personality contains no virtual colors, sparkles, or borders. It's one big never-ending mess, where everyone is a guilty witness to my overexposure.

This is my ultimate first world problem. What the fuck is my internet personality if I'm just incessantly overexposing myself?! It's not like my real one even matters. Everyone has a multitude of personalities to choose from that are all so easily identifiable it's fucking gross, hilarious, and THE WORST. But, I want my own! Here are some examples I could choose from:



mysteriously anonymous indie chick, takes too many photobooth pictures of herself with her cat. Just because the contents of her face aren't applicable to FACEbook, doesn't make her more interesting. But, she does bring all the semi-virginal androgynous boys to the yard.


The one on the far left corner has 4,500 friends. She loves reminding them that she LOVES HER SISTERS SO MUCH!!!!! But, it's easy to love so many people that look like exactly like you. I hate too many people to even be blessed with taking a group photo, and probably way too homosexist.




This is the worst. Performing as a demon drone will probably get me the most crusty inclined girlfriends, but also a variety of infectious diseases. I don't even understand the origins of this personality, other than it's completely weird, desperate, and horrifying.


Just like me?

Friday, October 8, 2010

Gross #7 (or: The Daily Schedule of An Unemployed University Graduate: An Alternate Perspective)

I woke up at 11:00 AM. I hadn't slept that long, but I discovered that I had five responses to drunken texts (sexts) I sent between 4:00 and 5:00 AM last night. I was too interested in responding to them to sleep anymore, so I got up.

I spent a few hours looking at shit on the internet, and then I ate some rice and beans. I have had two meals today: rice and beans, and then rice and beans and fish sticks. Fish sticks are awesome.

I tried to read Watchmen (the comic book series), but I passed out on the couch instead. I woke up when Lisa texted me a picture of the strip of paper she used to wax her vagina. I thought it was a pretty cool drawing for a second. I wondered how her vagina-wax would look in a gallery. I also noticed it looked an awful lot like some drawings she made with plaster and hair. Cool.


I spent about an hour figuring out a way to text message a guy I went on a date with last night without seeming desperate. Eventually, I settled on something about music. Then I just waited around for a response. Just for the record, he took 22 minutes to respond.

Then I read some more Watchmen. I noticed that every line on Doctor Manhattan's body is connected to parallel, horizontal hatchmarks, except for his penis and ballsack, which are just two simple lines. Maybe the artist was trying to not overdo the detail, especially because penises did not turn up in comics very often in the '80s (and still don't), but they seem weirdly prominent instead because they're the only part of his body that looks like that, and it makes them look like they're glowing. I mean, he gets progressively more naked as he becomes less connected to his humanity, so maybe his dick is actually supposed to look like it's on fire? Also, his ballsack and penis are perfectly symmetrical, which seems weird. Whose ballsack is symmetrical like that? And also, is he supposed to be circumcised or not? I guess not. Maybe I am thinking about the wrong things here. All I'm saying is, for a comic book about penises, Watchmen could use more penises.


After showering, I went back to reading Watchmen, but I fell asleep again. After I woke up, I ate my second meal. Fish sticks are so awesome, why don't I eat more fish sticks?

I tried to get almost everyone I know in this city to hang out with me, but they were either at Austin City Limits, or at work. People I didn't text message include: people I only know because I have had sex with them, wanted to have sex with them, or still want to have sex with them. I sat around and helped Lisa figure out (via text message) how to say that she no longer has hair on her vagina in Spanish. She has a Mexican secret admirer at work, so I figure she's trying to make small-talk. Hola! Come estas? Ya no tengo pelo entre mis piernas.

I made a mix CD. I made another mix CD. At 11:00 PM I was feeling restless and decided I should get out of the house. I told Kristin, who is staying on my couch, and she decided to come with me, which I thought was cool, because she has a car. But then she seemed into walking, so I pretended I was into walking too. About three miles later, Kristin realized we had just walked three miles, and I realized she was actually into driving but pretended to be into walking because she thought I was into walking. Whoops and whoops.

When I got here, I considered ordering a beer, but they don't sell any. I realized this is the first day I haven't had any beer or other alcohol in... Well, I don't know. I don't want to know.

It's 2:00 AM, Kristin is asleep on our table, and I am more or less just starting my day.

Me. (#2)


I am sick, and not allowed to drink for a week. So, what do I do? I drink every night . Last night I decided that I was so afraid that I would forget something that I started writing notes all over my arm. Which means that I had to beg all the bartenders for pens. They hated me. 

Here's what I have on my arm:

"Gif."

"Juggalette." (With a picture of a juggalette next to it.)

"Jessica." (I remember how this came about--"Hey, can I close my tab?" "What's the name?" "We know each other!" "Um." "Right." "Is it Jessica?" --I then went on to create a Jessica identity for myself, yelling at the bartender, telling him my name was Jessica Corelli and that I loved my mom, while I spit beer everywhere.)

"The Freak, Acid Burn, Zero Cool, The Plague." (I re-watched Hackers at some point last night.)

And finally, this:


"It's this year's Blindside."

I was watching a preview for a movie and this was one of the reviews. If anyone can tell me what movie this was referring to, I would really appreciate it. 

I woke up this morning with about 20 pictures on my camera of me in front of a Prince poster that is not mine. This means that I was at a friend's house and forced someone take all of those pictures.

Family portrait.


(Gif courtesy of Heather's Animations. Thx, Heather!)

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Everything.



This is a picture of a Kid Rock music video. In a movie theater as a pre-preview.  Because, apparently, one now has to go through Kid Rock to see a movie.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Me. (#1)

This will continue for a long, long time. But I woke up this morning to a picture of my boob on the internet. And I ate this:


I've ordered the Mega Waffle at The Clock many, many times. It usually is just a waffle covered in strawberry syrup and a blob of whipped cream. I must have enchanted the waitress, because I've never had one with a face on it before.

This is me eating it:

Shame eating.

Gross #6

Last night, Lisa's truck got stuck on the remains of a pole. We tried lifting it off with a jack and with our hands, and then some drunk lady tried to push Lisa's truck with her truck, but in the end I called AAA. They told us it would be 45 minutes, which was exactly enough time for us to take my friend Jeremy's car to Whataburger, buy a ton of food, and eat it in/spill it all over Lisa's truck at 3AM.

This morning, I went to court for a public intoxication charge. I was still a little drunk. The prosecutor decided I did not need to take an alcohol awareness course. That guy is pretty cool.

The Airport./The drive from Jacksonville International Airport to Gainesville, Florida.

Norfolk International Airport

I am so poor that I have to take ridiculous, round-about flights across the United States to get anywhere. I take cheap, airlines that have jokes built into the pilot's script:"Whoa, Nelly" every time the plane lands. I do not get free drinks, I do not get to carry on luggage. I usually do not have seats on flights. I usually spend hours in airports, along with the saddest people. Right now I'm stuck in a two-hour layover in Regan National Airport. I waited in the longest line possible for shitty mexican food because, well, I had the time.  And my life has stopped here, in the airport, where I just get sadder and sadder by the minute. 

My dining companions, Reagan National Airport.

The drive from Jacksonville, Florida to Gainesville, Florida is an hour and a half of speed traps, four gas stations, no light and I think around 20 minutes into the drive, no hope. If you have something to go home to, you are bound to get a hundred tickets in the speed traps that rise up from oblivion. You have to go 25 miles an hour for 10 miles for a town that is two blocks long. I think I'm slowing down for a town that is really just a Sonic, and, I guess, for the people who come out of Sonic. They all belong on my windshield, every one of them, they should all feel the mighty wrath of my car's grill. 

 There needs to be an airport cab/prostitution service. Having someone to pick you up from the airport is the ultimate test of loneliness . If you are alone, like, say, most people, you can fake being a functional human up to a certain point. That point is the airport, specifically at the arrival terminal, when you haul all your shit to the parking garage, pay an astronomical fee of freeing your car from the lot (just in case you didn't hate everyone and everything enough) and drive the terrible drive to your home, where there is nothing waiting for you. I propose you call a number, pick an escort (I'd like to request anyone who looks like Sam Elliot in Roadhouse, please), and have them pick you up in a car, drive you back to your apartment, fuck you senseless, leave, and bill you in a month, after you are over all the humiliation of flying. 

Can't decide on a name. Air hookers? Fuck and Ride? Help me out here, people. We could make billions. 

These are some airport prostitutes from Philadelphia. They are not really my type.

Rather than have access to this service, I am instead going to go home, buy an incredible amount of alcohol, and watch the music video for Heartbreaker until I pass out. 'Cause I just love everything Jay say, Jay does. Huh. Ha. 


Monday, October 4, 2010

Gross #5

Amanda: I stole some barf bags from the plane to put in my car...with you in mind. I would give anything to have you puking near me again.

Me: You know you haven't seen me puke for the last time.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Gross #4/Awful #1

My roommate and I got hungry and made ourselves some food. I made two sandwiches, and each one had mayo, whole grain mustard, tomato, provolone, cajun turkey and a fried egg in it. They were awesome.

Once I had stuffed both of them into my face, we started talking. She said this to me:

"Oh my god, you're the big gay wolf. You're all manly, and you walk around with your big, erect dick, and you just lay claim to all these gay boys."

Scary and gross, so here it is.

Gross #3

I was at a friend's house, and she microwaved a $3 family-sized box of six frozen chicken parm fillets. Everyone tried them and hated them, so they sat in the kitchen until I came in an hour later and ate all six.

Gross #2

Sometimes you need to take a shower because you are basically covered in lube.

My Cousin.

We all have cousins that are the worst. This is mine:


These are the things he says:

"Of course that broke. It probably came from China. Stupid China."

"I'm so glad you two aren't dating any more. His skinny jeans! They were so dumb. He would grow up and eat rice and beans at the artist's festival."

"Gay says what." (Many times.)

"As Paula Deen says, 'You want the best seat in the house, move the cat.'" (Then his mom says the same thing to me about a half hour later. Then his father says it again to me the next morning.)

"You know there is a movie called, 'You Say What, You're Gay.'"

"Everything bad comes from foreign. Look at Obama? Oh, hey, that's where I found my stick." (We were on a terrible hike together.)

Rather than address the obvious issues, I took pictures of him. Here he is, being himself.










Friday, October 1, 2010

Gross #1

Last night, I ate a ton of pizza, drank all night, ate a bunch of ranch-flavored Pringles and sour candy spaghetti, drank some coffee, ate a breakfast taco, and finally puked into an outdoor trash can at 8:07 this morning, in front of a bus stop full of people (three times). I was listening to beautiful music.

Then I went home, brushed my teeth and slept.