I'm a twenty-six year old 
Girl to her friends and apparently a few guys she didn’t know:
“I will hook up with anyone. I have very low standards. I’m at a low point in my life.”
Classy.
(Does this really work? If so, I’m going to start going up to really attractive guys and telling them, “Wow, you’re really a depressing example of human existence. Lucky for you, I have low standards because I have no self-esteem. Want to hook up in the backseat of my car?”)
Sitting in my brother’s room, I noticed my copy of collected poems by Federico Garcia Lorca lying on his floor. I picked it up and it opened to a poem called “The Spinster at Mass.”
It was like a special message from God himself, telling me, “Aha, woman. Get yourself a cat and a pint of ice cream.” Either that or God has an awesome sense of humor.
(Takes place in a very loud bar during a punk show. Yes, I attend punk shows. Yes, I enjoy punk music. No, I do not fit in. I am the sore, preppy thumb that sticks out, and I want to scream out that I had multi-colored hair in high school, could fit multiple small children in my baggy jeans, and was thus cool by late-nineties standards. I don’t think anyone would believe me, though.)
Sister: “I want [indecipherable].”
Me: “Band-aids?”
Sister: [Repeats word and makes upside down triangle with hands and a motion like she's eating it with a utensil.]
Me: “Vagina?”
Sister: “PANCAKES.”
I swear, I am like a twelve year old who thinks everything is a reference to hoo hoos and wieners.
- “After I got my tonsils out, I lost my gag reflex.”
- “I get drunk off of one beer.”
- “Mmmphlll bluhhhh…” (Ejecting saliva-covered pseudo-words instead of intelligent conversation because I am a sad, shy excuse of a girl.)
- “My brother’s a drummer…?” (Attempt to be interesting. Guy looked sadly at me as if I were some pitiful, homeless puppy.)
- “Girls are bitches.”
- 80’s pop song lyrics. Usually accompanied by dancing. Usually accompanied by more than one said beer.
- “I don’t ever want to get married, either.”
- “I am actually a really sane, normal person, and if you date me, you will never find me crying my eyes out in the bathroom because a) someone looked at me in a way that seemed mean and judgmental and b) the potatoes sprouted and they’re really creepy.” Or something to that effect.
I have been cross stitching like crazy since New Years’. I am practicing for my crazy cat lady days when I will knit things out of cat hair and have nothing but prunes and Fresca to eat. And possibly mixed nuts.
I made this for my daddy. I made the bowling ball and bowling pin patterns myself because I was very, very bored and had nothing to do for two nights. My daddy was very happy, though. Viva la Crazy Cat Lady!
You can see what else I’ve made here.
