I’ve spent the whole day with my parents, who were married for 16 years and have now been divorced for 13. We went shopping and out to dinner and I got a taste of what it would be like to have parents that were married. I don’t think I like it. My mom keeps drinking because she’s nervous and now they’re arguing about things from their marriage. My dad just said his dick is a shining beacon. I think I’m going to go to bed now.
A guy bought my Nicki Minaj lipstick on ebay and I forgot to send it because I am the worst and because I didn’t have any packing tape and now he’s messaging me about it and I feel so bad because it’s his birthday on Wednesday and he wanted to have it by then. But I also feel guilty because well, he’s a boy and he ordered lipstick and I feel bad about my ignorance and my conservative views re: boys wearing lipstick. (I’m overnighting it first thing tomorrow)
There’s this whole world of Twitter that I didn’t even know about wherein people that I went to high school with follow and communicate with each other and it just seems so weird to me. Like, that’s what you’re using Twitter for, really? Granted I do follow a select few worthwhile candidates that just happen to be high school classmates, sometimes I check out who they are following and fall down this rabbit hole that eerily resembles the hallways of Hidden Valley High School (yeah, like the ranch dressing). Also, it will never stop being weird to me that I’m at the point in my life where I refer to someone as a person that I went to high school with. The past tense of that sentence is just too real for me.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about it — the like, fact of it. That people had sex. That they just had it. That sex was this thing people had. Like a rash, or a Rottweiler.”—Angela Chase, or my brain, everyday.