Monthly Archives: May 2009

I Always Feel Like

That cute little punim is Charlie, though Bacon is always sticking his nose under my door, too – especially if I have food or Justin in my room. Bacon adores Justin, particularly his ears.

If a dog isn’t in my room, there is certainly one lurking right outside. I wanted to take a picture of when they’re both peeking under the door and whining, but it is impossible to resist two puppy noses and I have to fling open the door immediately.

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My Super Sweet Black Thorn Pub Review

Okay so you guys…

YOU GUYS it goes crust and cheese then MORE CRUST AND MORE CHEESE AND THEN

Yeah I had one piece and I was so full and now it haunts my dreams in the best way. Plus it is an awesomely comfortable atmosphere. Y’all there was a baby in there and I was okay with that. That was a super fun night that I will post to Flickr soon. I heart Janternet and the rest of the Squids.

This summer (all right let’s face it, fall) I’m determined to experience a lot of places in the city for the very first time and I will let you know how it goes. But um, can we get back to the bacon in the cheese in the crust?

So okay dudes, who is taking me back here on a hot date?


Filed under Picture Pages

Beer Brat City

Man, Janternet always has the best parties and I’m sad that Saturday was the last one (at least in Soulard – someday I will visit her in Portland on my way to the Big Trees). She had a sweet garage sale and then a barbecue with a lots of folks I adore.

Best party activity ever: watching late-Seventies Encyclopedia Britannica safety videos on a 16mm projector outside on a beautiful summer night. These were hysterical. The one about poison was the funniest but I only captured a bit of the pedestrian-themed video (titled “Dead Right”):

Oh, we also watched the triiiiiiipiest Italian animated short. Does anyone know the name of it? I think my friends Joe and Katie would love it.


On Friday I had the MRI (which will be a cool thing if the results are okay and the bill doesn’t bankrupt me). Won’t know anything for a while – that’s the beauty of getting a test right before a holiday weekend – but I’ve been feeling slightly better and that’s a relief.

I was scared about the MRI but a gChat pal assured me that it would be cozy and okay. I sort of alternated between feeling all right and freaking out. The atmosphere and creepy buzzing sounds made me feel like I was in a Dharma Initiative experiment, but whatever. I’m just glad I kept my eyes closed until the very end.


Saturday night I couldn’t fall asleep and made the best of it by doing tons of chores and watching at least a season’s worth of Angel on the DVR in the process.* I was planning on writing a monster blog or two on Sunday but blog-city was down.

So instead, I updated the hell out of my Flickr. Also, Frank & Erik used the intro Davy recorded on their latest episode and you can hear me drunk giggling in the background like a total nerd.

Speaking of writing a monster blog (and being a nerd): My 5-Year Blogiversary is coming up! What should I do? Any ideas?


Monday was fun; Jen and Ron had a barbecue and some of my favorite couples were there. This was the first time I’ve seen Tyler since he’s been back. I’ve been avoiding him because I associate him with Pat and I thought it would bum me out. But I realized if he reminds me of anyone, it’s TSGoC. I would love to hear a conversation between those two. Mostly I just think, “Tyler = awesome Kubb Captain and overall nice guy.”

Oh yeah, Kubb/Koob rocks and I am actually decent at it. But it started raining out of nowhere and I immediately dashed inside and abandoned my team; sorry friends.

Afterwards I went over to Erin’s for Intervention. Usually I don’t make fun of the subjects of Intervention, but this kid blamed his addiction on being adopted. I’m adopted and that shit really annoys me (“I got taken out of poverty and thrown into a loving, wealthy family boohoohoo…”) and Candy agreed with me and is ALSO adopted so I was excited for that verbal smackdown.

Oh and Gabe’s bangs?

Make him look like the lost member of DeBarge. All he needed was one of those little dangly cross earrings. So great. Also Graham made us dinner and I got a final beer brat to punctuate the holiday weekend. Good stuff, my friends. Goooood stuff.

I got about 2 hours of sleep last night, which means I’m allowed to eat a Majic Market gyro for dinner. It’s just a rule I have. I love my rules.

THEN – Top Secret Mission.

THEN – Getting drunk with Squids feat. Janternet at the Black Thorn. Can’t wait.

*Last summer I coped with all my Dad’s surgeries by watching Buffy, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to cope with my problems by watching Angel. I’m new to a lot of these episodes so it’s tons of fun and takes the pain away. Joss is Boss.


Filed under Almost Famous

Once Was Lost, Now I’m Found

The first Wednesday after a Lost finale usually feels pointless and empty, but the Found Magazine show was a nice fix. I’m having a brief moment of painlessness, so I’ll write this while I can. I’m starting to understand that these moments might not be “back to normal”, but rather a short lapse that I should take full advantage of. Okay, wah wah wah. On to fun stuff:

WOOOO Found show! I got there early to help Davy and Peter set up. Davy was rad enough to put me on the guest list, so I brought the fab Rocket Queen (author of the RFT’s Local Blog ‘O The Week; way to go!) as my plus one.

This guy named Mike showed up super early as well – I actually met him during the last Found event at Mad Art. Stag Row 4-Ever! The three of us mostly sat around drinking and talking when we weren’t doing arts and crafts for Davy. Fun stuff. Also in attendance was Shortcake All-Star commenter The Captain! Party!

This is the third time I have seen their show, so I’m starting to enjoy it in the same way I enjoy watching my stand-up comedian friends perform – it’s more about the delivery and the reaction than the joke itself. I get a kick out of observing that part. BUT there was tons of new stuff too. Davy keeps getting funnier and Peter’s voice gets more incredible every time I see them.

We helped the Mad Art folks put everything away and then a few of us went out to a bar in Soulard. Davy and I got to hang out for a bit and it was much needed. Even though he has such a crazy lifestyle and has to adjust to new places and people on a daily basis, he has this unique warmth and ability to make everyone feel special and significant… like it’s more of an honor for him to hang out with you than for you to hang out with him. His brother has that gift, too.

And I guess… well, there’s a lot of crap going on with me, both health and friend-wise.* So crossing paths with a friend like Davy was something that I have desperately needed. And having an awesome fun new friend like Erin is something that I’ve needed, too. That night, my head didn’t hurt at all and I felt this safety and confidence that I haven’t felt in months. It was probably because of all the laughter (and a little bit from the booze)… but I have a feeling that the friendships played a huge role, too.


Speaking of friends, two of my favorites are moving soon – Janet and Erin T. Janet obviously totally rocks. And Erin T. doesn’t know this, but last summer when things were totally scary and crazy, she played an enormous part in keeping me sane. If she wants to know how then I will tell her, but it meant so much to me that blogging about it feels… cheap? But yeah, I am going to miss both of those girls a lot. Their goodbye parties are on the same day. One involves a garage sale and hula hooping, the other involves camping and boys I used to date. GUESS WHICH ONE I WILL BE ATTENDING. Obviously it is not personal.


Tonight is my MRI. Yesterday it became abundantly clear that I am more scared about this than I would like to admit. But like everything else, there are pals who have been praying and/or giving me peace of mind and I am eternally grateful.

I finally got my light box in the mail and can concentrate on light therapy for my DSPS. Rule number one: POINT IT AWAY FROM YOU when you are learning how to set the timer. IT’S A BOX THAT SIMULATES SUNLIGHT. Not the kind of surprise you want all up in your peepers. I spent a half hour sitting by it this morning and… well, my headache isn’t that bad. Related? Who knows. We’ll see how I sleep tonight.

So to review – depending on my headache of course:**

Tonight – View images of my brains
Possibly watch episodes of Lost by a campfire

Saturday – Garage sale
Hula Hoop
Maybe bonfire (with puppies!!!)

Sunday – Squid Exhibition Game, “The Luncheonette Cup”
Reading book recommended by Gage in the park

Monday – Barbecue wiff my besties
New season of Intervention, last DIFC meeting with Erin2.

*I am sitting on a story because I’m not sure if it’s mean to blog about it. But I AM sure that it is UNBELIEVABLE and HILARIOUS so feel free to ask me in person. (OMG)

**While I am on the subject of amazing friends, I have a few who have had headaches for years. And while I always sympathized with them, I never realized how truly tough they are because my friends are not whiny little crybabies like me. So yeah… big ups to them. I hope that someday I can be (or at least act) as strong as you.


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Cocked Hat Bowling

RØB had several birthday parties, including a trip to CP Pinball, but Justin and I celebrated with him at a top secret 140-year-old underground speakeasy cocked hat bowling alley. Apparently this bar is the only place you can still find a real cocked hat bowling alley in the United States (I don’t count a place in Vegas so new that you can still smell fresh paint).

Cocked Hat Bowling (awesomely mistakenly called “Cock Tat” by a certain favorite blogger I will not name) uses the 1,7 and 10 pins (set by hand – tip your pinsetter!) and small 6-inch duckpin bowling balls. It’s called Cocked Hat because that’s the way the pinsetters wore their hats.

The place was covered in grafitti and had low archway supports, and although there is a fire exit in the back, you have to climb down this creepy tiny stairwell hidden under a trapdoor.

Despite me being on the same team with 3 Squidbowlers, I believe Kevin bowled the highest and the other team won. (We found out later we were scoring everything completely wrong and there are all sorts of symbols you’re supposed to use like a happy face.)

In addition to bowling, there were bubbles, top-notch snacks, Wendell the monkey, party poppers and lots of good friends. All the ingredients for a great party, yet somehow RØB always takes the extra step in making an event unforgettable and remarkably cool.

You can find the full album on my privacy-raping social network page, but I wanted to post at least a few of the pictures here in case RØB wants to avoid going to Facebook at all.

Happy Birthday RØB!

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Filed under Adventures, Picture Pages

‘Roid Rage

On Wednesday, I got this really horrible headache. It hasn’t gone away.

I went to the doctor on Friday. He did all the standard neurological tests and prescribed things to help, but he threw around enough scary words and warnings that I’m scared to do anything strenuous like running. And wow, do I need to run.

I have to get an MRI on Monday. I can’t really afford it. I’m stressed about that.

He gave me temporary steroids to… well, they aren’t doing shit except making me emotional and upset and anxious on top of all the pain.

A lot of people have hurt my feelings or crossed a line or let me down lately. But I haven’t said much about it because I don’t know how much is real emotion and how much is me overreacting from this medicine.

Everything was finally coming together. Things I have spent years or even decades trying to fix were finally under control or even totally better. It’s like I couldn’t even get one fucking day to feel normal. Not even one.

I’m angry. There’s some sadness in there and a lot of loneliness and disappointment. But mostly I’m really angry today.


Even when I am at my worst, I like to make sure you guys are happy you clicked on this blog. So…

When I was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor FOR AN HOUR (ROID RAGE STEPHIE ANGRY RAAH) I noticed a box on the counter that said “Occult Blood.” I thought that was rad in a Black Sabbath way. Then I looked closer and realized it said “Fecal Occult Blood.” I had to share my emotions with someone so here you go:

Jason saw this and said, “you’re my very own Liz Lemon.” That makes me smile. And he is giving me a pep talk right now for some of the stuff I am raging about. Jason is the best.

It’s sunny and breezy outside, so I am going to attempt to take a walk.


Filed under Videos

OMG Guess What We Did

Charlie taught me video editing before he left. FIRST TRY! OUR DEBUT! Now you’re really in trouble…

I wanted to add serious music cues, like “I’ll Be There” by The Jackson 5 and of course, “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye” by Boyz II Men. But I couldn’t figure out that part on the first try and Lost is almost on, so you’ll just have to deal.

If he was here one more day, I guarantee we would’ve made a full-length feature.

I miss him already. (He’s still in my lap.)

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It’s How I Be Bein’

You guys, I was so sleep-deprived last week that I forgot to tell you – a dog bit me! Hard! Agh!

I was running on my usual route a couple miles away from home, and I was passing a little old lady working in her garden. All of a sudden a dog appeared out of nowhere and started running alongside me. Usually when that happens, they go away if you ignore them, but not this guy.

I will spare you a picture of the actual wound (and flash photography of my thigh – you’re welcome) but yeah. Totally chomped my leg. It’s almost healed, but last week it looked like a vampire bite surrounded by a baseball-sized bruise.

I called the lady later (like I would stick around, nuh UH) and she was really cool. Apparently the dog belonged to her husband, and ever since the husband passed away, the dog has been uber-protective of her. I thought that was so sweet and I hung up the phone feeling more sorry for that poor dog than myself.


I was really shook up after the bite, so I started running on the track again. This turned out to be beneficial in a lot of ways – the softness of the track doesn’t bother my stress fracture at all, and honestly a track makes running feel more like training. I’m up to 4 miles every time I run. I want to get to the point where I run 6 miles in an hour, at least 5 times a week. Whenever I run that much, I sleep so much better and lose any weight that I’ve been trying to lose in a matter of weeks.

Plus – NEWSFLASH: running is totally easy when you don’t smoke. I forgot how good that feels. From now on if you see me at the track, I mean business.


It’s officially been 3 weeks since I quit smoking and I’ve only had one really bad craving. I’ll drink a beer or two every now and then, but I’m trying very hard to not get drunk around smokers. I should ask Janet if she knows of any sites that list non-smoking bars around STL. I need to go out soon.

Oh ooh – I did go out the other day; Bill invited me to an encore of that This American Life live show that I wanted to see. Hooray! Watching Ira Glass do his thing was pretty amazing; I didn’t expect it to feel so much like art. Mike Birbiglia and Starlee Kine were hilarious as always, Dan Savage was (emotionally) touching, and Joss Wheadon was Joss Whedon!!!! Squee!!!

Afterwords Bill and I hung out and that was pretty fun; it was nice to talk to someone whose life is evolving in the same direction as mine. I’ve gotten to this point where I completely forgot what it’s like to have something in common with people. Bill is a cool guy. Good times.


Things are fun in my windowsill:

there have been astonishing developments in Plantasia:

and Round 2 of the Pepper Plant incubator is successful. Let’s see if I can re-pot these guys without a mass suicide Jonestown hoedown. (Round 1 was… unfortunate.)

At least my original Pepper Plant is kicking ass. I really want to give away some seedlings; I like how all my friends own various generations of Katie and Joe’s Pepper Plant.


I’ve been dog-sitting Charlie for almost a week and he hasn’t left my lap this entire time. I have like 20 stupid videos of him that you will probably be subjected to eventually (like such as ). I’m starting to understand how people get to that point where they dress dogs in clothes and push them around in baby strollers or whatever. I love Charlie the exact same way my Grandma loves me. Just kisses and meatytreats and staying up past his bedtime and daily trips to the park. I even let him chase a duck! I am going to cry so hard when Dan takes him away tonight.*


AAND… DSPS light therapy. We’ll see. This is a whole new frontier for me; I may have to slowly detox off of the sleeping pills. But I’m excited. I’ve realized that I probably slept perfectly in London because that WAS my exact sleep clock – 6 hours ahead of yours. What a magic solution. Can I go back?

Does anyone know where I can buy a sleep mask? I have to become one of those people now. I want something ridiculous. OOH!!! Maybe I can make a new sewing project for Totally Stitchin!!! Courtney, would you like to help me make a sleepy mask? That would be so fun!!

Good times, they are a-brewin’. I’ve got more things cooking but I’m saving them for later.

*Seriously, losing Charlie AND Lost on the same day is like the meanest combination of doo doo that the unIverse could fling at me.

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Oh My My, Oh Hell Yes, I’ve Got A Case Of DSPS

A while ago, Ra was hanging out with this guy who totally creeped me out. I used to call her and lecture her about why she needed to stay away from him. Point #215: this guy has been to Iraq five times. I wanted to tell her that he probably has raging Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD.

But what came out, in a horrified “mom-voice” shriek with a dash of Missouri twang, was “Raaaa! He could have PSDS!!” Say it out loud. You will probably giggle as much as she did. It just sounds silly. Well…

I finally sucked it up and went to an actual Sleep Institute today, and guess what: I don’t have insomnia. I actually have something called Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. Yes, DSPS. It means my circadian rhythm (body clock) runs about five hours later than yours – like living with permanent jet lag. There are things I can do to keep it in check, but I have to be really disciplined about bedtimes, light therapy, melatonin, etc.

Apparently, the majority of DSPS cases are initially misdiagnosed as chronic or onset insomnia. I actually studied DSPS in college and was fairly informed about all sleep disorders, but I had always assumed that DSPS was a temporary condition, or just a fancy nickname for jet lag itself. I didn’t believe the doctor at first but the DSPS Wikipedia page seriously reads like my diary. And while the diagnosis sucks, you’ve already heard me complain about trying virtually every insomnia treatment. At least now I know why none of them worked and I can go to bed a little more hopeful.

Ra is in town for the first time in years. This is the girl I honed all my bad habits with. She has a son now. Maybe between her baby and my new self-discipline, we can stay out of trouble this week. Either way, it’s bound to get interesting. I can’t wait to tell her I have DSPS.


Filed under Sleep Disorderly Conduct

My Mom Can Out-Labor Your Mom

People ask and worry about my dad a lot, but most people don’t think about the fact that whatever he can no longer do, my mom has to do it for him. She has to see for him. Walk for him. Empty his bladder, or at least his catheter bag. His kidneys? Blood sugar? She’s had that job for years. She has to fix his food. Feed him. Sometimes actually physically place nutrients into his stomach through a tube. She has to get medicine and ointments for his wounds and heal him. Hell, even when he wants to relax? Shift a little to the side? She has to do that, too.

It may seem like a lot of work, and it is (on top of maintaining a yard and a house, and working full time) but she’s worked that hard for years.

A few months ago, when she was (awesomely and uncharacteristically) trash-talking someone we knew decades ago, she let it slip that she didn’t pity this woman for complaining to be poor (on a 60K salary) because at the time, my mother was holding our family together on $19,000 a year.

I’ll repeat – she supported two bratty kids, a newly-blind husband who could no longer drive, and a gorgeous house in one of the wealthier zip codes – on a “salary” I haven’t seen since early college. And my Grandma has marveled many times that my mother never asked her for a penny. Not even once.

I’m adopted. So is my brother. That means my mother has never gone through the labor that most of your mothers – or maybe even you – have experienced. But I’ll be damned if she hasn’t worked harder than all of us combined.

I had to walk in her shoes for one week and take care of my dad while she was in the hospital, and by the time it was over I collapsed from exhaustion, in tears. She does all that work every day. She does it and stays beautiful. She is super-human. And every single day, I thank God that she’s my mom.

(P.S. Thank you again for everyone who helped with my concert last year, because it felt so great to help her for once.)

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As If I Were A Shoelace

Every now and then a song sneaks up on me and kicks me in the ass (or rather, the ass of my heart):

I haven’t thought about that situation in a while, without even trying. It was becoming a non-issue despite the propinquity and I liked that. To be honest, I wasn’t prepared to be in this mood again at all. I wish he could hear this. It’s really hard to avoid songs that make me feel like this when they are so beautiful.

Since we’re on the topic of gorgeous memory-provoking Swedish music with eerily-correct lyrics, here’s one more:

So pretty. Seriously, what is up with me and Swedish music? Every time I dig something on Pig Radio, it’s from Sweden.

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Filed under Love Stinks, Pop Goes The Culture

Well, I Was Underwhelmed

Conversationing, revisited:

Jeff: Fritos make your breath gross.

Stephie: Ha

Stephie: I just ate a ding dong for the first time in years

Stephie: and it was pretty disappointing

Jeff: I just ate a ding dong for the first time in years and it was pretty disappointing – is my new favorite sentence you’ve ever said.

Stephie: LOL

Jeff: I want that on a plaque.

Stephie: Let’s have Debbie embroider it on a pillow.*

Jeff: OMG

Jeff: yes

Jeff: im calling her now

Stephie: hee

Jeff: she’s a go

Jeff: bring a pillow in monday

Stephie: Nice

Jeff: This quote is going to make you famous.

*Normally this sentence would be infringing on clam territory, but we are surrounded by people who actually have this in their job description.

Also if Pat had waited an extra week before dumping me, he would’ve been the proud owner of a pillow embellished with his favorite quote ever, “Pizza? Now that’s what I call a taco!” Sucks to be him!

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All In The Family

Back when “Poker Face” by Laga Gaga started getting major, may-jah airplay, I said this:

Justsoyouknow, I actually do have an inner gay man on roller skates and I love him dearly. When I tweeted this, I had completely forgotten about the hottest Weir on skates, Johnny. And while my inner gay man on rollerskates is from the 70’s and definitely not as fierce, watching Johnny Weir on ice is pretty close to what I’m doing in my head whenever I hear that song:

I know calling this video fierce is pretty “duh” and unoriginal at this point, but… it is. Period. In fact I would go so far to say this is the new second-fiercest video on the Internet, behind only this:

Not since Sam and Lindsay on Freaks and Geeks have I been so proud of my heritage. I might have to hyphenate my name if I get married because of this hotness.

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Filed under Pop Goes The Culture

SHOOOSH! – A Different DeLuise Tribute

So as you’ve probably heard by now, Dom DeLuise died. I loved watching him as a kid, but I will spare you from any tributes. I mean, what can I say about Dom that this video of him popping and locking with the Jackson 5 doesn’t already?

Did you notice his shoes? My god. Anyway… I would like to pay tribute to a DeLuise, but not Dom. And no, not his son Peter, though Peter is famous and quite lovable.

I would like to pay tribute to Dom’s middle son… Peter’s brother and co-star… and (I swear) my favorite actor (seriously) Michael DeLuise.

I love this guy.

You might remember him from Encino Man (“Shoosh!”) or Wayne’s World (“Do I frighten you? Do you want me to?”). Hell, you might even remember him from seaQuest DSV, where he had gills and swam underwater and hung out with Jonathan Brandis (RIP). His reel is a total trip to watch:

However, I first fell in love with Michael on his premiere episode of 21 Jump Street as Officer Joey Penhall, real-life and onscreen brother of Officer Douglas “Doug” Penhall. It was an episode titled “Brothers”. And in this episode Joey does something that, in my opinion, is the sexiest thing a character can do on a television show:

He went undercover and joined a religious cult. SWOON!

This is the cult:

I don’t think you guys understand how much I love episodes of any TV show (even Matlock) where people join a cult. After that, I was done for. Totally hooked. I promise there was a month or two in the 90’s where my goal was to marry him. I mean, I liked watching him on seaQuest more than Brandis. And Brandis was king!

Michael DeLuise is sexy and hilarious, and to this day he manages to appear out of nowhere in my favorite shows, like Lost. I will never be the type of girl who makes a tribute video of him and his brother set to “Look Through My Eyes” by Phil Collins (or leave a comment about how the video makes me cry OH MY GOD WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE), but dammit if he doesn’t deserve a blog entry. I love you Michael DeLuise.

Rather than wrapping up with something sad about Dom, I’ll wrap this up with some Jonathan Brandis for Erin:

I swear to god, this is the only Jonathan Brandis video on the Internet that isn’t a terrifying German tribute or him dumping DJ on Full House. You have no idea what I went through to find this. Hope you enjoy. Happy Birthday Erin!


Filed under Totally Crushin

The Science of Stephie

I’ve officially tried everything for my insomnia – pills, vitamins, herbs, a new mattress, auricular therepy, actual therapy, sleep hygiene, sleepy tea, staying up all night to reset my clock, waking up extra-early to run, sleep regression therapy, amino acids, cold medicine, etc…

… and nothing works. Absolutely nothing works. I have spent $500 of Visa’s money on stuff that doesn’t work this month alone. (Please don’t suggest things in the comment section – although I don’t know how to sleep, I am technically an expert at the topic and I am too tired to explain why none of your ideas will work for me.)

It’s seriously a miracle that I can compose a complete sentence with the amount of sleep I’ve gotten this week. I truly fear for my life when I have to drive a car. I can’t even talk to people. I can’t think. I can’t function. I’m on auto-pilot and it takes all my energy to not cry.

The only thing that works is chasing an Ativan or Ambien (or if it’s a bad day, both) with a few beers. So I guess my liver is fucked and I am too. It was nice knowing you (meaning, I don’t know when I will have the energy to hang out again. It probably won’t kill me til I’m fourty, or whenever things start getting good).


Filed under Sleep Disorderly Conduct

The Perfect Specimen

This thing doesn’t even look real. It looks like an anime monkey or some kind of doll. I am completely mesmerized…

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Filed under Videos

If I Sent A Secret …

… to Post Secret, it would probably be this:

However, I am too sleepy to go get stamps. Maybe next week. Don’t tell anyone it’s mine.

Insomnia makes me cancel plans at least once a week, sometimes more. I’ve used most of my sick days to recover from sleepless (non-partying) nights, and if I have trouble with a project it’s because I am too tired to think. I’ve treated my parents like shit over the years because I’m always cranky and exhausted. One time it took me four days to fall asleep and Pammy and Rachael woke me up and I threw shoes at their head. I have bags under my eyes that look like I’ve been punched and they will probably be there forever. I have a wrinkle or two. I crave carbs and sugar because I am tired and therefore it makes me fat on top of everything else. It used to make me anxious. It makes sad things sadder, and hard things harder. It makes me feel crazy and sometimes act that way too. It makes driving unsafe. It makes me want to sit at home alone, even though I’m guaranteed to be alone later while everyone else is asleep. I am halfway to sharing the same prescription list as Heath Ledger. It made me lose the love of my life. It took away opportunity after opportunity, and in my attempts to kill it, I’ve probably only killed parts of my liver. I just want it to go away. I want to be able to dream again.

I’ll try to write something happy tomorrow (today? It’s early/late), assuming I have the energy.

Anyways if I’ve ever ditched you or yelled at you or pissed you off because I was tired, I’m sorry.

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Filed under Sleep Disorderly Conduct