Help, I’m Trapped In My Shirt

Can someone please explain how it’s possible to put on a shirt, and then not know how the hell you’re supposed to take it OFF? I can’t be alone here. It was a day like any other day. (Pretending to sound dramatic.) I received my online order, and was excited to try everything on. In hindsight, that was very naïve of me. I grabbed the first blouse, but hesitated putting it on because of the lack of stretch. I should’ve known not to take the risk, but what the hell, what’s life without a little risk? Trying on clothes is fun! Well, it was easy enough getting into. While it was on, it looked fine. A little loose, but in a good way, because who needs to see my love handles?

But then…THEN…I decided I should take it off and try on the next top. Makes sense, because when you try something on, you’ll eventually need to take it off. Easier said than done. Maybe I never learned how to properly remove my clothing. Maybe I’m just totally clueless. Or maybe there needs to be a law about all tops having at least 5% elasticity in the waist and shoulder areas, for those of us who are, you know…NOT PERFECT. Because maybe some people have broader shoulders than others, and can’t just gracefully remove the top over their head. Maybe some people can’t bend their elbows awkwardly enough in order to find their way out of the arm-hole. Maybe, asshole, it shouldn’t be so damn complicated to take off a fucking shirt.

Attention, clothes-maker. The removal of one’s clothing should not cause one to sweat, you hear me? Absolutely not. Removal of one’s clothing should also not cause slight to moderate panic attacks at the thought of being trapped in the garment forever, or the thought of having to scissor your way through a brand new shirt. None of these things should happen. EVER. Maybe if I had a perfectly proportional body, it wouldn’t be such a workout to get in and out of non-stretchy tops. Perhaps the clothes were being intentionally difficult, so as to inspire me to work out or chop off my love handles and shoulders. Or maybe none of that should matter, because who the hell are you to judge? Just make your clothes stretchy and forgiving, would you? I should hope this incident will not soon repeat itself. You’ve been warned, evil clothes-makers. So beware. Because, yeah. There’s jack shit I can do about it.



Sir, Did You Just Touch Your Penis?

I don’t particularly like shaking people’s hands. Especially people of the masculine, penis-wielding persuasion. See, believe it or not, there are still people who find it unnecessary to wash their hands after using the bathroom. Can’t fathom how anyone could be that ignorant/disgusting/stupid. Not washing your hands is never okay, but it’s somewhat forgivable for a woman. Usually, there is no need for a woman to actually touch her vagina during urination; that’s what toilet paper is for. And if a woman gets splash-back on her hands, surely good hand-washing would ensue, as women are generally disgusted by splash-back. Men, on the other hand, must always grasp their penis. Not properly grasping their penis would result in an inconceivable amount of splash-back. So, considering that men must always touch their penis, and factoring in how many men couldn’t care less about hygiene, how can one be comfortable shaking their penis-ridden hand? “Excuse me, sir, but did you just touch your penis? You’ll have to excuse me, but I would rather not shake your penis until I’ve gotten the chance to know you.” And truthfully, after getting to know the guy, you’d probably be even less inclined to shake their penis. Heaven knows where it’s been. That’s the truth, from my brain to your fortunate eyes.

P.S. I wanted to see how many times I could mention the word “penis” while still raising a valid point. I think I rose to the occasion. Pun intended. (I hope I didn’t offend any of you. I’ve been having so much trouble writing, that when this thought popped into my head, there was no way I could turn it down.)



Oh Friday, I Love You

Dear Friday,

Words cannot express how much I love you. How can I put into words all the wonderful things you make me feel? This sense of elation, this feeling of pure and unparalleled happiness. It’s a feeling that takes me from morning to night. And as impossible as it may seem, it’s a feeling that gets even stronger with every hour that passes. How do you make 5 o’clock the best time in the world? All my woes from days prior are completely forgotten in your presence. It’s like I can conquer the world. How do you do it? How do you make me feel so euphoric? It doesn’t matter, just don’t stop. A week without Friday would be like a week without food. You make life worth living. Thank you, Friday. Thank you for being the best thing that’s happened to me all week, the best part of every week. Thank you for curbing my desire to slit my wrists in frustration. Not that I would ever do that. Unless you went away. But you’d never do that to me, right? I love you, Friday. You make me whole again.

With Much Love,
Friday Fanatic


P.S. No, I’m not crazy. But yes, I do love Fridays. I feel so unbelievably happy after 5pm, when I get home, sit on the couch, and realize that I have nowhere else to be for the next few days. It’s AMAZING. I wish it could be Friday every day. You know you love Friday just as much as I do. TGIF.


These Situations

Situation: Monday morning, my alarm is being obnoxious.
What I should do: Get up and get ready for work.
What I really do: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Situation: Just finished eating dinner, followed by 6 pieces of Hershey’s Bliss, and some chips.
What I should do: Have an apple, then brush my teeth and stop eating immediately.
What I really do: Say, “Fuck it, I’ve already eaten all this crap, why stop now? I’ll start eating healthy TOMORROW.”

Situation: Sitting in the living room, wondering if I remembered to turn off the stove.
What I should do: Get off my fat ass and check the stove immediately.
What I really do: Say, “Fuck it, I trust myself. I’d probably smell it before it turned into a real fire anyway.”

Situation: Major headache, with no intention of going away.
What I should do: Take Advil, Tylenol, anything… Drugs.
What I really do: Whine about it and wait it out because I hate swallowing pills.

Situation: It’s Monday, my ass is sitting at my work desk.
What I should do: Be a good little worker and do my job.
What I really do: Write this ridiculous blog post.


CONCLUSION: There is absolutely nothing wrong with me. If you drew a conclusion along the lines of “lazy bitch” then shame on you. How dare you think such a thing…


Random Ish About Me (AKA, Ways To Bore You)

  • I’ll be 25 this June. And in the blink of an eye, I’ll be 50, because that’s how time works.
  • This October is my 9th anniversary with my boyfriend. Makes me feel old. Don’t worry, I still love him.
  • Being unemployed for 8 months made me appreciate…being unemployed. (Not to sound ungrateful. But it was really nice having all day to do…absolutely nothing.)
  • Sometimes I sound like I’m being negative, but actually, I’m being realistic. There IS a difference.
  • When I sing along to songs, I imagine myself performing them live. I get really into it. It’s quite sad.
  • I love the smell of Spring. Sometimes I’ll walk outside and just breathe it in. And then I have to remind myself to keep walking, and not be the loser standing in the middle of the road.
  • When I hear stories of people helping others, I tear up a little. I love that there is still good left in this world.
  • For breakfast this morning, I had a piece of Entenmann’s Fudge Iced Golden Cake. CAKE…for BREAKFAST.
  • I have no willpower where Hershey’s Bliss is concerned. Or Starburst Gummibursts. Or M&M Mini’s. Or chocolate chip cookies. Or…this list could be endless.
  • I tend to count while I’m walking up or down the stairs. No idea why, I just do.
  • Sometimes I over-think what I want to say, and it doesn’t help at all…it never comes out right. Afterwards, I’ll think of what I could have said, which only leads to regret.
  • Some people might consider me lazy. I like to consider myself focused. Focused on what I really, really, really don’t want to do.
  • Being lazy is a skill, not a flaw. I can skillfully be lazy when it’s convenient to me, and when it will not result in my disappointing people and/or losing my job.
  • I should probably stop talking about being lazy.
  • I get what I like to call “mouth hunger.” My tummy isn’t the least bit hungry, but I’ll eat anyway, because my mouth makes me do it.
  • I hate feeling stressed. I know it’s a part of work life, but I’m not the best at handling it. Makes me want to quit…life. Haha. Just kidding.
  • Two days ago, I had an idea for a blog post. But then my brain turned my thoughts into goo. CRSS. (Can’t Remember Shit Syndrome.)
  • Can you tell this is a filler post? I’m sorry. I’m stressed and I’m going blind. Blame my job. (But don’t tell them I said that.)


This Will Probably Bug You

It’s official, I’m a bug magnet. I am always, ALWAYS the first one to notice if there’s a bug in the room. I don’t know…I figure God knows just how much I love bugs, so he always puts them in my path. You know, it’s that whole God-has-a-sense-of-humor thing. We all know cockroaches exist, and that they will never, ever die. Well, in Puerto Rico, they exist a lot. They’re also a lot bigger here. A good two inches long. There are small ones here too, but big or small, a roach is a roach. Unfortunately, the small ones always manage to get into houses through the shower drain. Around midnight on Friday morning, I woke up to use the bathroom. I sat myself down on the toilet when something caught my eye. Oh okay, it’s just a roach. No big deal. Oh wait, yes it is. *Cue silent screaming* It was just outside the shower. Just as I was about to get up, the little sucker moved and hid behind the hamper. I left to get a heavier shoe to squish it with. That’s when I saw the second roach in the room across from ours. Great, just great. There’s an army of them. I thought I squished it, but I didn’t want to move the shoe, so I just left it there. (When I checked later in the day, there was nothing under the shoe. Drats.) I went back to the bathroom, but the roach was too fast for me. It escaped and hid under an end table with a super long table cloth on it. I lifted the table cloth to see if it would run out, but it didn’t. I hesitantly went back to my room, feeling extremely paranoid. I stared at the floor for a good five minutes, but eventually, I gave up and fell asleep.

Fast forward to Friday night. I had left the bedroom door closed while I was in the living room watching TV. As if a roach couldn’t get through a closed door. I went to grab something from my room, and when I opened the door, there was a fucking roach right at the entrance. See what I mean about God’s sense of humor? Of all the rooms, it had to be this one. I managed to squish it just before it ran out the door. I made sure I heard the crunch this time. (Are you totally grossed out yet?) I knew there was still at least one other roach running around, but I was happy to have at least murdered one of them. When it was time for bed, I checked the floors to make sure I didn’t see any roaches before drifting off to sleep. I woke up at 2am for a bathroom run. I grabbed my phone (it has a flashlight) and walked very carefully. Satisfied that I was alone, I opened the door. I turned around to shut the door and guess what? YEAH, seriously…the other roach was ON the door. I don’t know if Raid actually kills these things, but it definitely doesn’t prevent them from coming in, because I had sprayed that shit all around the door. Anyway, God was being generous this time because the little sucker was running across the door, and despite being half asleep, I timed it perfectly so that I shut the door just as it was on the edge. Crunch, crunch. I pulled the bedroom door towards me several times, to make sure I killed it dead. I grabbed some toilet paper, eased the door open, and removed the carcass from the door frame. Then I surveyed my surroundings, praying that there really were only TWO roaches.

You see what I mean, right? Two different days, waking up at two different times, and both times, I would run into these roaches? What…the…fuck??? And why must this happen when I’m trying to get some sleep? It’s really hard to sleep when you have BUGS on the brain. Anyway, now that I’ve successfully grossed you out, I think it’s time to end this post. I really hope I don’t see another roach inside this house for the remainder of my time here. You’ll pray for me, won’t you? And if I do have the misfortune of seeing one, I hope that I can kill it quickly. As a precaution, before going to bed, I’ll be putting a bottle of shampoo over the shower drain, in the hopes that no more roaches will get through. They’re not strong enough to move the shampoo bottle, right? Right? Hmph.


Side note: Is it strange that this is not the first post I’ve written that is entirely about bugs? Exhibit A, Exhibit B, Exhibit C. Jeez, I have issues.

Yeah, I own this place.
Yeah, I own this place.

It Finally Ends

This is a continuation of “Stalker Much” and “Stalkers Never Really Leave Us.” I demand suggest reading them first (they’re fairly short) so that this final part makes sense. Yes, it’s finally over…

Dear John,

I’m not sure if you heard, but I’ve been detained. I am writing to you from a prison cell. A PRISON CELL! Can you believe that? The authorities tell me that a MAN filed a complaint about me, but I just know it couldn’t be you. You’re smarter than that. Hehe! I’ve been accused of stalking and unlawful possession of weapons. John, you didn’t tell on me, did you? My lovely weapons have been confiscated…all except one that I keep in my underwear at all times. It’s inside my dark place. You see why I do that, don’t you? I’m not dangerous, John. I just want to love you. I wish you’d bail me out. That would be the best thing for the both of us. That way, I won’t have to kill you.

I’ve never used my weapons for anything other than colorful threats. You believe me, right? I hate when people don’t believe me. It makes me so mad that I want to…never mind. Focus, Layla, focus! Be a sweetheart! Okay, I’m back! You really can’t blame me for wanting you. You have the most beautiful eyes, the most sensuous lips, and a bangin’ body. We belong together. Forget about me wanting to have your children. I just want your sex. It would be so good. I need sex at least 3 times a day. Dream come true, right? Guys love sex! I love you. Come rescue me, lover. I told my family about you. They are EXACTLY like me, except they’re a little crazy…and intense. But they were released for good behavior from the looney bin, so they must be okay. My weapon collection is nothing compared to theirs. I mean, bombs and…never mind. Who needs details? FYI, they know where you live. I’m sure you understand why I told them. So hurry up and come get me! I’ll be waiting, LOVERRRR. The touch of my hand isn’t enough to satisfy me anymore. Wink wink!!

Waiting to be rescued,
Your Princess, Layla


Message from Layla’s cell guard:

Dear sir,

This message was intercepted before it could reach you. Layla has been behaving rather, uh, inappropriately. She was coming on to all the inmates and guards…in the most disgusting inappropriate way. She also kept sticking her hand down her pants and saying, “I bet you have no idea what I’ve got down here!” Frankly, it was a little creepy. Many guards claimed that she had raped them in their sleep, so as you can understand, she’s been locked away in isolation, with no contact with the outside world. After reading her letter to you, we discovered the weapon she had concealed in, well, you know where. Rest assured, she won’t be contacting you anymore. I’m sure you’ll be relieved. I am including her letter to you because, well…I found it quite amusing. But on the off chance she manages to escape, you might need this for evidence. Good luck to you, sir.

I feel sorry for you

P.S. You might want to watch out for her twin sister. Yikes…

When It Rains, It Pours

When someone says, “Let’s go to a river today!” your first reaction is, “Okay, sounds pretty harmless.” Except it’s NOT. Not when nobody told you that you would have to hike all the way DOWN to the lovely river. I had sneakers on, but that doesn’t make me any more adventurous than I already am…which I’m not at all. So we started walking towards the entrance, which was paved, but was on a hill. We walked for a few minutes and then we got to an area full of dirt and rocks. You know how much I love dirt and rocks, right? At this point, for some stupid reason, my boyfriend was way ahead of me with his niece. I was with his other niece and his brother, and then the rest of the group was WAY behind. I headed down thinking I’d find my boyfriend soon enough. In hindsight, we should have just waited for the group that was WAY behind us. A few minutes in, my (brand new) sneakers found themselves face to face with some mud. I was pretty pissed. The fact that my boyfriend was too stupid to turn around and make sure we were following him just added to my anger. Sure, leave me to fend for myself. Does he not know me at all?

So we kept following the road, stopping every so often to scream his name. At one point the road went up…like way up, with HUGE rocks. I had to use my hands which I was not happy about. Finally, FINALLY, we heard my boyfriend coming…from behind us. Why? Because we frickin’ went the wrong way. Because he didn’t frickin’ wait for us. So we had to go back down the huge, slippery rocks, and like an idiot, he was walking way too fast. We eventually made it back and I realized just how far we had gone. There was a separate road going down that we hadn’t seen AT ALL the first time, and it was right near where the dirt and rocks began. So I did all that hiking for nothing. You can guess what kind of mood I was in. Of course, we had to hike some more to get to the actual river. So we walked down some questionable rock stairs, but at least they had built a railing. Until they didn’t. The very last (and steep) part consisted of large rocks, curving down, with nothing to hold on to. I cursed a lot, but eventually, my boyfriend helped me down. We were with a group of people, and I’m sure they noticed my less-than-pleased look. But after a few minutes, I felt better. And yes, the river was pretty. It had a lovely waterfall. The river was beyond freezing though, probably because it’s so damn far away from the sun.

Just as we were getting ready to leave, it started raining. I mean, why wouldn’t it rain? So we had to try to hurry UP those enormous rocks. Luckily, it was easier going up than down. But then we got to the dirt path, which was concerning, because it was now muddy. I was happy when we made it to the paved road, but guess what? It was a fairly steep slope…DOWN. All that rain and we had to walk down and pray that gravity wouldn’t knock us off our feet. Then we finally got to the car, which was parked on the grass…wet, squishy grass. It was awesome. Truly epic. I really wish I was more adventurous. People must think I’m so boring, but I can’t help it. I don’t enjoy doing things where falling is a definite possibility. But I survived without falling. It was coming down really hard then, but at least we were in the car. Not that we could see the cars in front of us, but hey, who needs to see? When we made it home, it was still raining, which is unusual since it doesn’t rain much in that city. My boyfriend said that he loves running in the rain and since we were already wet, I thought, why not? Why not continue with this adventurous day and do something new? So we ran in the rain like a couple of weirdos and it felt good. We didn’t even get any strange looks. I wouldn’t try that in New Jersey though. So that’s that. Wow, this post is way too long. It’s also my first post all year! Umm, so yeah, that’s it…so…bye now.



No Funny Business While I’m Gone

Before I leave for Puerto Rico, I just need to ask you for one favor. It’s a simple favor, really. Don’t post anything interesting while I’m gone. Better yet, don’t post anything at all. Got it? Simple, right? Good, thank you.

I’ll probably figure out how to get internet access on my laptop, (optimism) but there’s still a huge chance that I’ll be left to die with no internet access (pessimism). In that case, I’ll occasionally be able to browse a few posts on my phone, (glimmer of hope) but I don’t have unlimited data so that won’t get me very far (hopelessness). If I DO get to read some of your posts, I probably won’t be able to comment as often as I’d like to (reality). You’ll learn to forgive me eventually (fact).

Absolutely no thought has gone into the things I’ve packed. I was so excited to use my new suitcase, that I just threw things in there. Yeah, that’s pretty stupid. Apparently, I filled it with shirts that look like all the other shirts, only in different colors. There are a few nice tops, but mostly, my summer clothes suck. I would love to buy a whole new wardrobe and tons of shoes. And I would…if I didn’t care about money. If I knew for SURE that the world was ending this year, then I would have spent all my money on clothes and a brand new Benz. Er, um, I mean, I would have donated it all to charity. You don’t need money in hell heaven, you know. You can get in for free. All it’ll cost you is your life. Haha! (Not funny.)

I’m going to be really good while I’m on vacation. I’m not bringing any candy with me, and they don’t sell my favorites over there, so I’m giving it all up. I’ll go a whole…month…without my…Hershey’s Bliss or my…Starburst GummiBursts. I, uh…sorry, I’m choking back tears here. But yeah, surely I’ll survive without those things. There’s the sun and beautiful beaches and, uh, delicious food and…no internet access or candy, and oh-my-gosh, it’s going to be awful. Oh, the horror!

Goodbye for now, my loves. I’ll try to enjoy myself, but only because you told me to. I’ll also try to take pictures, but I go to P.R. every year, so taking pictures isn’t exciting anymore. Don’t worry, though. I have old pics that I can entertain you with. I’m pretty sure Puerto Rico still looks the same. Take care, and seriously, don’t post anything good while I’m gone. Seriously. Oh, and I know exactly how many followers I have, so no funny business, alright? I love you.



An Officer And A Gentle Drunk

Officer: Sir, are you okay?

Chad: Oh, hey officer. Yeah, I’m fine. Got wasted as hell, so I thought I’d sleep it off. Peace out, bro.

Officer: Sir, you’re operating a vehicle inebriated?

Chad: In-what-iated?

Officer: Drunk, sir, you’re driving drunk.

Chad: Oh, no, not at all. Do you see my car moving? Are you drunk officer? You should be careful with those donuts.

Officer: Sir, I’m gonna need you to get out of the vehicle.

Chad: Na, it’s cool. I’d rather just sleep it off. In another hour, I’ll be good as new..

Officer: Sir, please unlock the door.

Chad: Let a brother sleep, yo!

Officer: Sir, please respect the law and exit this vehicle.

Chad: Dude, I couldn’t be respecting the law any more. I pulled over so as to NOT accidentally kill anyone in my drunken stupor. If that’s not respect, I don’t know what is.

Officer: Please call me Officer Cockson, not dude.

Chad: Alright Mr Cock, I’m tired…do you mind?

Officer: This is your final warning. Please exit the vehicle.

Chad: Only if you’ll call it a car.

Officer: I’m warning you, sir.

Chad: Honestly, who calls people “sir” anymore?

Officer: Okay then. I’m writing out a ticket for operating a vehicle inebriated and for refusing to comply. License and registration, please.

Chad: Whatever dude, if it’ll make you leave any faster. You’ll leave me alone, right?

Officer: License and registration.

Chad: Jeeze, so serious. Where is that shit anyway…ahh, here you go.

Officer: *writes up ticket* Here you are, Randy. I suggest you call a friend to come pick you up.

Chad: I suggest you find a girlfriend and lighten up. With all due respect, Mr Cock man.

Officer: It’s Cockson. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day. And I’ve already exceeded my quota.

Chad: Lucky me. You’ve been sweet as pie.

Officer: Right. Have a safe evening, Randy. I hope this won’t happen again.

Chad: Don’t worry…what are the chances you’ll catch me next time?

Officer: *walks away shaking his head*

Chad: *looks at the ticket and thinks to himself* Man, my brother Randy is gonna kill me. I’ll just leave this little ticket in the glove compartment…he’ll find it eventually.

I wrote this ages ago, and was saving it for a rainy day. Well, it’s not raining, but I keep trying to write and it’s just frustrating me, so here you go. This isn’t spectacular or anything, but it’s Monday…are Mondays ever spectacular?


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