They call me a cry baby, but I don't fucking care!
I've never been called a cry baby. Emotionally dead inside, but not an emotional tear jerker. Recently I saw Melanie Martinez on her Cry Baby tour. I've made it a habit of going to a lot of concerts this year and Melanie Martinez did not disappoint.
I got there an hour before the show was supposed to start with my escort. We parked and I would say we parallel parked, but it was not that intricate. Despite getting there when the doors opened, we stood around the corner for 57 minutes to get in. Security was doing searches. Something I appreciated after lax checks at the Sheryl Crow concert.
Nothing is probably going to happen, but probably is never a good way to prioritize your life. The show was fantastic. Handsome Ghost opened (they were more attractive up close then expected) and Melanie Martinez ran around her Cry Baby stage. There was a wolf and adequately costumed musicians on top of the birthday cake.
She ended the night saying she'd “be back” and that there would be a new album (!) next year. We shall see if that's true, but I ran into an old high school friend with my arms dressed in fishnet stockings. Met her boyfriend and I'm sure he was just obsessed with me.
You are probably asking what I won. At first it was a box of tissue and a copy of 25. Then, my favorite Prince William manipulated someone into stealing his gift, so he could rob me. I have never felt more violated in my life. It ended all right, though. I ended up a sweater and two scarf hangers richer.
The night was very low key. I lost at all incarnations of Mario. Super Mario Smash Bros. Mario Kart 8. It seemed no matter what I did, I was not destined to be good at these games. And, it's fine. I personally enjoy losing every single time.
I get home. Unlock the door. The dog has a jingle bell collar on. He looks cute and my father for some reason is awake. He asks me where I got the sweater from. I look down at it. Thinking that my tacky Christmas sweater is in the car when I tell him that I got it from Prince William.
I also saw a dress made entirely out of condoms. If that is not the solitary event that completes your life, I don't know what is.
As usual we saw a slew of drag queens. One had on crocs. Heels are a bitch, but we need to have higher standards then that. One bitch didn't blend. I get it. We're painting for the back of the room, but she was painting for the aliens drinking the water on Mars.
One of our President's old friends comes over and they talk about their exes. His friend dated a 48 year old and he's only six months older then my 21 year old president. Hey, Lolita. Hey.
It was almost 11 weeks that our friendship had gone unsustained over the summer when she finally said that we should go to church. That is our aesthetic. We go to church. I hadn't been to church in so long that I was practically an atheist.
We caught up on everything. How me and this nice Christian girl bonded over glass dildos. As Sacajawea said “why does she have to be Christian?”
Sacajawea was also glad that I dressed “normally”. I had considered throwing on my jersey with the number 69 emblazoned on it, but I decided in my final moments not to. Recently, someone said to me that they dress in a way “that respects their school.” It was very clear that the implication was that I'm the whore of Babylon who doesn't respect anything.
I suppose she wasn't wrong.
In other news Sacajawea and I have rekindled our friendship. We'll finally be the good Christian's we were meant to be.
Now I took some advice from Cosmopolitan's article on hair removal. I wish I had the money to pay someone to rip the hair off my body, but tragically my slightly above minimum wage job doesn't support such luxuries when your trying to save money. Cosmo suggested the Sally Hansen Waxing Kit. It was only ten dollars and I said yes.
It was a good price and I would recommend using it. Joyce said she didn't like it, but I'm satisfied with the results. It was spa day for me. I turned on the new Florence and the Machine album How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful and sat down in the kitchen on some ratty towels and waxed away.
Then, I said I'll get some gas. Ran into the Miss Sara Bellum's ex boyfriend. I didn't even wave. I got out. Pumped my gas. Opened my Vogue and waited for the pump to click. He's an obnoxious heterosexual male. I'm sure he didn't have time to notice my unkempt hair with me giving the side eye.
The twins loved it. I went out with them to a Trivia Night (Team name: Bed, Bath, & Beyonce) and I had on these Taylor Swiftesque blue spandex. Their mother said they were not allowed to go out dressed like that. To be fair if I had an ass it would have been hanging out. I looked flawless. My six inch wedges elongated my legs. A man whistled on me. I don't think he knew I wasn't female. So, that's awkward for him. I'm honestly just so glad I got slut shamed. Life goals accomplished.
The next time I wore shorts I was out with Sacajawea at my coworker's birthday celebration. Sacajawea loved my look. She said my shorts were shorter then hers (I swear they were the same length). Her mother wondered what I was wearing and she said with shorts like that she thought it was promiscuous to wear heels.
I didn't think it was the time to tell her about my wardrobe choices. The problem with Sacajawea and I going out in public together is that we both act like were under the influence of something without drinking. No one believed that we were sober the entire time.
His brother is just a lot of something. I don't mind working with him, but he's got too much going on. Rumor has it that he dated one of my male coworkers who looks like a cross between neo-nazi and a naked mole rat. Now, I might have started that. At this point I'm really not sure. But, his girlfriend does not like the neo-nazi and his brother told me that some personal things happened between them that he doesn't like him. Now, I'm not saying that means anything. BUT.
Both of this boys respective ex boyfriend and current girlfriend are weird as fuck. I don't like either of them. They make my skin crawl. The funny thing about his girlfriend is how unbridled my aggression is towards her. It's not even shade anymore. It's you literally suck at your job and you are pathetic. She comes into work late and she can't even pay her rent. Her hours got cut recently and I laughed. On the floor, fucking died. Am I terrible person, yes. Do I care? No, because I don't like her.
I talked about this a few months ago during the 12 Days of Bubbles, but one of my now delinquent coworkers had a sex tape. She was fingering herself and everyone at work saw it. Everyone at her school saw it. It was a mess.
My favorite coworker has literally had sex in the back. I'm like oh my god. She's dating this dorky cute guy now and she leaves me early to go spend time with him. I don't know why she doesn't want to be at work. I am more fun then any flaccid dick she is getting with this man. But, I'm not salty about it.
I'm a little salty about it.
Two girls I work with are having intense boy problems. They're both dealing with multiple boys liking them and being jealous and calling them bitches. And, I'm just like this is why you don't date guys with big trucks. I hate their friends and if I'd met them at school I would not have been a fan. But, I love them to death and I want to know why there only ever seems to be one shitty boy in my life. I would enjoy being in a triangle or a trapezoid as some of you are.
At the end of the day my coworkers and I are family. I fucking hate them sometimes, but we still spend time together. And, a little part of me would miss them if they got fired.
Nothing dramatic has happened. I realize I titled today's article “Shattered and Hollow”, but it's just a First Aid Kit song I really like. I've been listening to it a lot recently. I shamelessly quoted it on twitter a while ago and didn't even acknowledge that I stole it.
I've also been listening to this Katy Perry song “Love Me”. I don't know why I've been feeling the need to feel empowered by break up songs, since I'm not even going through a break up, but that is life.
Buy "Love Me"
The thing is I don't actually know him. He just has the same name as the boy I know. They both look freakishly alike. The one my coworker knows is cuter, but that's hardly the point. The one I know just recently came out as gay. He went from “I'm not gay” to “I have a boyfriend” and I honestly thought that was really funny. It was just such a sharp role reversal.
My coworker and I determined that it was not the same person, but when I went into her place of business I saw him. And, I was so awkward, I was legit staring. I was trying to find his name tag and surprise of all surprises it was exactly who I thought it was.
So, that's the story.
In other exciting news I gave a speech on suicide, so if you've ever wanted to know someone who has a long list of statistics memorized regarding suicide, I am here for you.
It's honestly sad that it's been two weeks and this is all I have. A crop top and the story of me awkwardly staring at a stranger. I was so obvious that he actually remembered me doing it. Palm to the face. I'm never going to see him again, but I want strangers to think I'm awesome and not creepy.
Better luck next time. What is exciting is that tomorrow there is going to be a special Throwback Thursday and the not so big Bubble Righted reveal is going to happen.
Everyone always talks about the actual coming out, but no one seems to tell you about the fall out. The fall out is still falling. And, I have to say it's kind of shitty. I'm trying to just laugh at it, but my parents are saying the most homophobic things. They also funny enough think they were the first people I told.
Like, LOL. No. Literally everyone else knew before you. You just didn't want to know. I feel like I'm handling it well. I already knew I would disappoint them. I already knew what they would say. It's just new actually having them say it.
Both my father and mother have told me at length that “I chose this”. No one would choose to be discriminated against. I don't particularly like being made to feel uncomfortable in public when I'm alone. I don't enjoy that. I wish I could just go in the stores and buy things, but instead I order things online.
They have also already decreed how me and the nonexistent boyfriend will act if I bring him home. We are not to kiss in front of them. As if I was planning on making out in front of my parents. We cannot hold hands or make any physical contact. We are not allowed to sit close to each other.
I'm just like how about we don't even sit in the same room as each other, and maybe we shouldn't breath when we're in each others presence. If they truly think I would subject any boyfriend to this they are out of their minds. I guess they're doing their best to be open about this, but I'm still looking at them side eyed.
My mother has also already started calling this fictional boyfriend a “friend”. I told her that she would call him my boyfriend. I am dating him. Do not decrease his significance, because it makes you uncomfortable. I was informed that I was pushing her too hard. No. I sit here and listen to all of your homophobic nonsense. This however is about someone else. My future boyfriend doesn't deserve this.
I was informed that I knew I was gay too young. I'm sorry. I told you when I was eighteen and your questioning that I knew I was gay when I was ten? What is that. They have also started to shift away from blaming themselves for my gayness to blaming pop culture.
Lady Gaga and Madonna made me gay. No, they didn't. I knew I was gay at 10. I was watching Chuck and Scooby Doo. The gayest shows out there. I started buying music Freshmen year of High School and that consisted of Sheryl Crow and Hilary Duff. Before that my life consisted of Christian radio and Celine Dion. Come on family.
There are too many gays on TV. Mind you both have said they are not 'homophobic'. We treat gay people right. I had a gay friend once. Okay. Thanks. Your token gay friend doesn't mean your not homophobic. Both of my parents are.
My father also suggested that porn is why I'm gay. We just got functioning internet this summer. I was not watching porn. Shout out to everyone who watches porn, but I'm very old fashioned. I read my porn. I just could not handle him.
It is nice having it out in the open, but instead of realizing internally that they hate me, I just hear it instead. I don't think they're ever going to change. My mother went out to get coffee with her friend who also has a gay son. Surprised she didn't come home with a Christian self help book on how to fix your gay kid.
I love knowing that they think there's something wrong with me, and if they just wait it out long enough. It will go away. I will realize that I love women and that this whole time the media mislead me.
My mother also totally put together who my crush is. That was funny. And, she did say she can't imagine me having sex with another man. I told her I hoped she didn't see me having sex with anyone.
At the moment I have to be the strong one who lets them come to terms with it. I've had eight years. They've only had a month. I'm just not sure how long I have to support them before I call them out on all their shit.
My life has been exceedingly dull.
My classmates, however. I don't know what is happening to them. They have lost their minds. Let me tell you.
Let's start away from my lovely school at dear friend J.Lo's dorm and her dorm mate. Now J.Lo is Thunder's sister. I would say we're friends. Great friends, best friends for life. No. But, we enjoy each other's company and that's a good of place to start as any for a friendship.
Her roommate I know. I've known this girl since the 4th grade. For the sake of protecting the not innocent we will call her 'dumb bitch'. So, this dumb bitch is going to herself kicked out of school, arrested, raped, or killed. Possibly all of the above.
In high school she was I'm such a good Christian girl. Now she's acting popular? She was so drunk two weekends ago that five people had to carry her home. Note the words 'five' and 'carry'. Dumb bitch. It's one thing to drink. It's one thing to get a little wild. But, you could not even stand. You were so wasted it took five people to carry you home.
This is not a wet campus by the way. There is not supposed to be alcohol. So, needless to say it would have been hard to explain why an 18 year old was so piss ass drunk it took five girls to carry her home.
A few weeks ago we had a foam party on my campus. I for one am not about to go to a foam party Paris Hilton isn't hosting. And, there is this very gay boy in my English class. I think he's a sophomore. Well, needless to say him and this boy went to the foam party. For the sake of cohesiveness we will call them 'A' and 'B'.
Well, A and B got real drunk. Not as drunk as dumb bitch, but drunk enough. They had very loud, very passionate sex in a shower. This is how you know they were really drunk. It was not even in one of their showers it was in one of the girls dorm rooms.
I cringe thinking about it. This is not meant to be. I'm worried they didn't remember the condoms. They were in someone else's bathroom fucking each other. I can't imagine what kind of lubricant they were using.
There was also an orgy on campus. For some reason this is not as bad as dumb bitch's story. I'm like that seems like a terrible idea, but the person who told me about it remembers it. There was alcohol involved, but it wasn't that bad. Although, according to my source, a brother and sister were involved. I only got their side of the story, so I do not know if the brother and sister participated in the orgy together or if they participated in the orgy together.
I will keep you updated.
A friend's sister is also in rehab. She called her parents drunk, while doing cocaine and meth. There's that little scandal for you. She is in rehab, she should be fine.
A coworker of mine has a sextape out. She is a minor. She's not super pretty. I have not seen the video, but apparently it's just her masturbating. I cringe. And, she apologizes all the time. I cannot handle it. Stop apologizing to me.
Your entire high school has seen you finger yourself. Get your life together. Why are you apologizing to me. You need to be apologizing to God. To your parents. To your brother, because you both share the same cloud account. Did this girl not hear about Jennifer Lawrence. This will be out there forever. She also has braces. This is not the kind of sex tape you shrug off and say I look really hot in.
That's life for you.
I went on a camping trip recently. I keep calling it a camping trip. It wasn't a camping trip. It was a retreat. It had cabins. I stayed in a cabin.
It was freshmen retreat for this program I'm in, so that we can bond with each other. I did a really shitty job at actually bonding with people my own age. Go me. Mainly, I talked to three people I already knew and two of the seniors helping with the trip. Although, I'm not actually sure if she was a senior.
I didn't turn her down. I was like sure. If your going when I have a break between classes. Of course. Now, if she really was serious, I hope it is not labor intensive. I hope it's like let's all run at our own pace on the treadmill. My pace would be walking and it would be like a bonding moment. The other senior, I talked to was involved in this discussion as well. He's fantastic. I love him so much. And, he actually is going to work out with the Actress.
We'll come up with a name for him. I'm thinking Brick from the Rowdyruff Boys. We had a very enlightening conversation about Vogue. He said have you tried British or Italian Vogue. I don't speak Italian. So, no.
He says to me, if you know Spanish you can figure out Italian. You see I didn't take Spanish in High School and I barely passed French. I can't even begin to imagine me trying to reading French Vogue. I realize he's four years older then me, but it kills me that he has a firm enough grasp on another language to suggest reading a magazine in a foreign language. That will never be me.
I hope he doesn't hate me or dislike me. Granted he did allow me to pronounce his name horribly wrong without bitching me out about it. So, that's probably a good sign. And, when we went outside to get his cigarettes he did give me his blanket, because I was cold. I don't know why I'm so stressed out about it. I just don't want him to hate me.
Ignoring that. The trip itself. The food was okay. It wasn't great, but you know it was a weekend retreat. Where no one showered by the way. Now I did. But, I don't blame anyone who didn't. You see there wasn't a lock on the bathroom door and there was no real convenient way to get out of the shower without being totally naked.
I did not actually sleep in my bunk bed. I fell asleep at about 5:30 in the morning between the Burlesque Jenny Lewis and Brick. Actually, I wasn't between them. I was on the complete opposite side of Jenny. The semantics aren't important. We were late to breakfast. And, we were also taking a group picture that day. So, I had to look good. So, of course I took a shower. And was more then a half hour late to the breakfast that started at 8:00 in the morning.
I told you how Jenny has this beautiful make up she does. She did not do that, that Sunday morning. There was no way. She put on this big sunglasses to hide her face. God we all looked so ratchet that morning. It was like the walk of shame. My hair was everywhere and I was wrapped up in a blanket. It was rough.
There was no participation from me in any of that morning's activities. Otherwise known as Bazooka Ball (I don't support gun violence) and mud bathing. I am not a pig. This is not a spa. I don't see Reese Witherspoon.
I was so incredibly anti-social that morning. The only thing I really did was the canoeing. Three people could fit in one canoe, but there were only two paddles. When I saw a group of two going for that canoe. I latched onto them. I sat in the middle and let them row me around the lake. Essentially, I was Cleopatra on the Nile. I did not say a word to them. It was beautiful.
Dodge ball was also something we did. I enjoyed it actually. But, it wasn't the dodge ball part that I enjoyed. It was more the disco/ dodge ball combo. There were black lights, a disco ball, loud music. It was kind of everything. I got turnt. I did this very sexy move on the wall where I danced with myself, that was great. I just had a really sexy time where I called everything sexy. Oh, what a sexy potato that is, oh that child falling was sexy. There was really no rhyme or reason to me calling things sexy. God. I was so annoying.
That's not true. Yes it is. I was so annoying, but I wasn't close to the worst. There was this girl who was from California. Literally everything she said had that thrown in. The fruit here isn't as sweet as it is from California. It's because of how far you have to ship it.
Bitch maybe you should try getting fruit from Target instead of the gas station before you starting bitching about our fruit.
It's sixty degrees outside. Oh, my god it's so cold. I'm from California and it doesn't get that cold there.
Bitch. I lived in California most of my life. I lived in Southern California. It does get that cold. Kill yourself.
You know what I love about this place, is that I'm from California and all of you have accents.
Bitch. We are not your token black friend. Back the fuck up.
These are just the ones I remember. People were like why don't you like her. Because, she's so god damn annoying. Is she so basic that everything she says has to include, “I'm from California.” Go back there you factory reject dildo. Her parents are still in California. She's the one who chose to move out of her natural territory. Go back. We don't need you.
This is what I told her roommate when she asked me, why I didn't like her. And, I'm fairly sure California girl knows I don't like her. She kept giving me these dirty looks. I'm like that's right bitch. I don't like you.
At the end of all of it we had to do these surveys for the group leaders about what could be improved on our experiences. The whole time, I wanted to say get rid of California girl, but I held back. Because our president is all, we're a family, we take care of each other, we love everyone. There is forty of us. I hate to break your heart, but there's going to be people who don't want to be around each other.
I did resist temptation and at every turn. I was like get rid of this hike. I don't want it. Send it to California. Just don't put it near me.
There was even a scale of 1 to 5 for an overall quick summary. 5 sounded like I just saw Beyonce in concert. 4 sounded as if I was forced to go see TLC without Left Eye. So, in all good consciousness I could not put five down. So, I gave it a 4.8.
We were also forced into stating one thing we loved about the retreat. I felt so guilty. All these basic bitches were like that hike was the best. All the while I'm sitting there being like, I shot that down at every point on that survey. Sorry boos.
I am also sorry to that honey boo boo child, I shot down for her obsession with Taylor Swift and liking “Shake It Off” and being excited about 1989. I mean I do shamelessly own all of her albums and I'm probably going to buy it anyway.
So, you all can judge me. I know Brick did when I told him. He took his eyes off the road- we were on the freeway mind you- to give me the dirtiest look. I swear. He might be bitchier then me.
I think I've fond my soul mate.
Melodrama puncutated with exclamation points.