Condoms and Play-Doh.

I was really sad that the pharmacist was unimpressed, and now I have a party pack of multicolored play-doh cups on my desk.

Delightfully predictable. I'm a simple girl, really. Three chords and I'm plenty happy.


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DEAR WORLD ( Read more... )

Giftmas (and the following January) is the only time of year when I allow myself to just eat cookies at will. I kind of hate myself for it, but they're tasty. The things I like best about this time of year are giving presents, strings of lights, and cookies ( Read more... )

And now I just got into trouble in feminist for being sexist for the first time ever.

What the hell is wrong with me.

All I said was that women can be vicious and mean and competitive, and anyone who denies that is willfully blind. And that women often find ways to obstruct clear communication.

To wit:

Yeah, see, I can relate to this. Anyone who says ( Read more... )

I read this: Emo: Where The Girls Aren'tSometimes I think punk rock as an entity has more to offer than its human inhabitants can realize. The potential is there. The courage and creative thinking it demands is huge. It's part of the paradox of being forever young: you think you know everything, but you may or may not be able to really look ( Read more... )

Once there was a macabre girl who was tired of her black hair turning pure white, due to the melanocytes just giving up and leaving. Having never dyed her hair before, she was at a loss until she discovered Henna For Hair, which perfectly appealed to her neverending desire to do stuff differently than the norm.

So she went on a ( hair adventure )

I hate suddenly discovering myself locked into a pissing contest. You basically have to leave your dignity behind.

I had a weird dream where I was pregnant, and all I could think was, "I REALLY don't want to be pregnant now. No no no." I was not excited. My life was just flashing before my eyes, my heart sinking fast. Everyone else was excited and I was doing a bad job of pretending to be excited. Also, "Who's the dad? I'm four months along...who?...I ( Read more... )

Grappa tastes exactly like poison. Or something you'd use to kill tumors. Or perhaps use as a pesticide. You know, poison.

My dad loves the stuff. 'Splains a hell of a lot.