the worst part about buying a business is every single man assuming you want to start stocking their awful shit, as if I didn't just double my insane debt just to avoid job hunting & ever working with men again
look I just wanted to be able to go back to saskatchewan this christmas to see my friends and flex my sobriety in the form of a Designated Driver God Complex
remembering that time I dated someone 10 years older than me that said she “couldn’t let herself trust me because I’m a gemini” and screaming into the street
neighbour just walked in on me smoking a cigarette wearing a trench coat, reebok slip-ons, and full avocado face mask on our shared balcony
probably not gonna bounce back from that one
becoming less and less worth my disentigrating brain’s time conversing with anyone not from the prairies, my constant use of “mid-30s loser from Lloydminister who still listens to Buckcherry” as a personality type descriptor simply does not land otherwise
only being invited to: Minimum 3 saskatchewan weddings next summer, in full margiela, with my extremely hot gf will revive my ego from this covid death (and nothing else)
recently learned that someone checked in on me through a friend and thought it was kind of weird until I realized that the last 2 conversations I had with them were me talking about conspiracy theories and how I could “for sure kill somebody if it was legal”
somehow more upset about my plans of going to the WEM waterpark this year getting fucked more so than my plans of moving to gd Paris this year getting fucked
didn’t realize the cafe door was propped open and that everyone on the benches outside could hear me listening to a “Most Ruthless Takedowns 10 Years of Jersey Shore” vidéo on full volume
job interviews have been going way better lately since my brain completely cracked and started saying shit like “I can talk louder and longer than anyone else you’re gonna interview” and “sure I’ll live in Toronto part time, at this point who cares”
panicked and forgot the entire french language during a surprise phone interview today
feeling like I now understand the deep horror of being embarrassed in gym class (I wouldn’t know, I was a god-given winner)
grateful for sobriety when reminded of xmas 2015 when I:
1. blacked out
2. drove to my sisters
3. threw up inside my pants(??)
4. was shown a video the next morning of myself mumble singing Dreaming My Dreams by The Cranberries while trying to take off the vomit pants
a man at the gym saw me using the ~which celebrity is your twin~ filter on instagram and get Obama. legally I can’t get off my machine until he leaves.
no one really talks about the part of ~going through some shit~ that makes you do stuff like seeing mama mia 2 in IMAX & buying tickets to the smashing pumpkins reunion tour
can’t figure out if my relationship with the FedEx guy got weird when he started telling me about his friends in Alabama who eat roadkill or when I started addressing him as “bitch”
finally getting the notariaty we deserve, i.e. had a man barge onto our tennis court yelling “SO BEAUTIFUL, SO SEXY! MY DAUGHTER ALWAYS SAYS YOU’RE THE SEXIEST GIRLS IN OUTREMONT!” 🥴
working on my zoom presentation before I attend a zoom presentation ensuite my zoom therapy session followed by club q zoom y’all I’m fucking losing it
being a dyke is so fucking embarrassing like why did I just cry because I was late getting home and thought my wife (update: not even home) would be hungry