Dumpster Girl

Yesterday I took my trash out at the same time as the acoustic guitar player who lives in my apartment building. He covers John Mayer every day around noon if you guys want to stop by and tell him to shut up through his window.

It was my dream that he’d be enamored with me and return to his apartment, lyricizing about a beautiful woman with bedhead, ripped leggings, and lots of empty carbohydrate boxes. I imagine he’d title it, “Who knew Cheez-its could do a body so good?” and make it kinda blues-y.

Well, the next best thing happened. Someone else wrote a song about seeing me at the dumpster and posted it in the youtubez.

Do yourselves a favor and NEVER google image search "Dumpster Girl" with the safe search off. Still vomiting.

My Hair Has a Mind of Its Own When I'm Sleeping

Every time I wake up I look like a more masculine version of Nikki Six.

I’m going to name this particular hairstyle The “Isn’t-Gonna-Stop-Me-From-Going-Directly-To-The-Weed-Store-Anyway.”

Weekend at Bernie's: The Reality show

Two old British ladies brought a dead guy to the airport in an attempt to smuggle him back to Germany without paying all those pesky dead body transport fees. They put him in a wheelchair and slapped sunglasses, a fake moustache, and a Hawaiian shirt on him. (I’m just guessing about the moustache and Hawaiian shirt.) They managed to fool a taxi driver on the ride there, but airport security found it odd when he was unresponsive during his anal exam. (Again, I’m guessing.)

What did they think would happen if they got him onto the plane? I mean, I avoid eye contact and small talk on planes like anyone else who hates humanity, but god damn if I wouldn’t notice if the dude next to me was dead. At some point I’d see how peaceful he looked and probably try to bum an Ambien.

I like to think these bitches watched Weekend at Bernie’s and Weekend at Bernie’s II (what was the premise for the 2nd one again?) to prepare. And in my mind, right before they took him to the airport, they all went water skiing.

Creepy Facebook Message #1

I’m half-offended this weirdo thinks it’s “strange” that he finds me attractive.

I’ve decided to start taking screen shots of the creepy facebook messages I get from stangers. So keep them coming.

For the record, I didn’t hit the reply button because I’m not a real badass. I just play one on the internet.

Right Foot Forward

For those of you following the shitstorm taking place in my life, you should know it hailed diarrhea on me yesterday. I’d been eyeing this pair of Palladium boots for months and finally committed to my first purchase on Amazon in a moment of weakness.

A day later a mysterious $464 Long Island Railroad charge appeared on my debit card, making them the most expensive pair of boots I’ve ever owned. Thanks, shady Amazon seller. After I cancel my debit card, I hope your train crashes.

Regardless, I’ve been looking forward to the boots, as if they were going to solve all my problems. The package arrived yesterday, and I happily signed the etch-a-sketch my UPS guy carried with him. I couldn’t get into the box fast enough! It felt like Christmas, except instead of my parents buying me boots, the government did. (Did I mention I’m unemployed?)

I dumped the peanuts from the box all over my kitchen floor and laid eyes on my new favorite boots. The first thing I noticed was that one looked a little bigger than the other – no matter, so are breasts and they still manage to fit into a bra, right? That’s when I detected the more significant problem. They were both for left feet. Two left-footed boots, two different sizes, one girl standing in her kitchen speechless.

I went through every stage of grief in the hours that followed. At first, there was denial. I stared at them for 10 minutes like I was trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube. Was I high(er than I thought)? I looked away and looked back, looked away, looked back, expecting to see a right boot if I strained my eyes enough.

Then came the guilt. I remembered several of my past regrettable e-bay purchases, all of which took place because I didn’t read the descriptions quite close enough. (I spent $50 on a tester bottle of perfume once – but the image size was HUGE!) Perhaps I’d failed to see an asterisk next to the boots? I returned to the website thinking I might find, “*Both boots are lefts” at the bottom of the page. Then I remembered that no one in the world has two left feet*.

Next came anger. I thought, “Fuck you, Amazon! I’m wearing them tonight anyway.” I put them on and resembled something of an accidental clown. I laughed at myself and managed to move onto that acceptance and hope stage of grief. What a bunch of overrated bullshit that stage is. So I went back to the anger stage, logged onto Amazon, and ordered another pair of fuckin’ boots.







*Even terrible dancers have a right foot.

Chicks Having Orgasms (I'll believe it when I feel it)

I'm in this video comprised of ladies' orgasms. I think it would be more realistic if half of us just didn't cum at all, but it'd probably make for a pretty boring video.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I can’t decide whether I want to shove dollars down his pants or co-host The Grind with him.

I wonder what terrible tattoo the shamrock armband is hiding.

I wish I could’ve been there when he got the bad news on his “Days of Our Lives” audition and needed rent money this bad.

Kids, always remember, when you give up on your dreams, you’re not alone. There are plenty of Halloween costume models who thought they were going to make it one day too. (At this point, I’d consider “making it” getting to model a cop outfit.)