i have a confession to make. it probably won't come as a surprise to anyone, but here it is: i am lazy. like, disgustingly, amazingly lazy. i probably won't get out of my pajamas until 2 pm today and that is pretty early for me on a day off. was i always like this? well, kind of. but the older i get the more spectacular my lack of motivation gets. for example, it took me 3 weeks to get my new sticker for my license plates and this was after i got a ticket for having an expired sticker. really? you ask. but what if you got another expensive ticket you can't afford? yes, well, what about it?

i've been thinking about this a lot the past few days. my roommate and i spent the weekend visiting one of our friends from school and i was struck by how productive these ladies are. they are morning people, for one, which is something that may confuse me for the rest of my life, but they also don't spend all of their spare time  not showering and looking at the internet. and they have waaaay less free time than i do. and i figured it out. maybe. after college, like most people i know, life did  not really progress in the way that i envisioned it and the longer i've been out, the further it has gotten from what i expected and hoped for. each job has gotten worse and i've steadily made less and less money and felt more and more unmoored. there are few errands to run, no responsibilities to be had, save for paying bills and not starving to death, and yet i can't bring myself to commit to anything. i can't even count how many times i've told the non-bf that i'm going to start doing something, or do something i love again, or how many times i tell myself that i have got to get the fuck out of my house because the couch is getting destroyed by my constant presence. and yet.

i might do something for a week or so, but then my inherent bum assness takes over and i am back to the couch and the comforting arms of the internet. and you know what? fuck that. because another thing i do in my abundant not doing real things time is compare myself to other people, the ones who are doing cool shit and having a life and success or what have you. and why are they doing those things? because they actually do the things they say they want to do. unlike me, who can't finish making a scarf and who hasn't written in ages. terrible.

i would say that this ends now and that i'm going to make changes and blah blah blah, but that is just too much commitment.

heeeey guyssssss

helloooooo everyone! i am making my triumphant return to the interwebs this week. i finally got a shiny new computer (thanks, mom! i am a broke  mess!) and now i can once again regale you with some shamble-rambles. 


new chapters about vampire lady and things that make me angry, coming soonly. wheeeeee!!!


<---lovely ladies in their natural state/how my new computer makes me feel.

ok, so my computer may or may not be broken, which is why i haven't posted anything in AGES. i'm attempting to make friends with the little guy today, so fingers crossed, please and thank you, dears.

yes. yes. yes.

know what is strangely satisfying? organizing your socks. it feels good, right?

today on my personhood spree i did just that and now i am flush with self-righteousness. kind of. also grossness. some of these socks i have had since grade school. not even kidding. i found a pair (ok, two pairs. of the same socks.) that date back to my seventh birthday grade. did i get rid of them? absolutely not. socks and i do not part ways easily, as evidenced by the second discovery of my sock project. so, when i find that i am missing a sock, i keep the remaining one around, hoping that the other one will turn up. that doesn't happen sometimes, but i will keep that stray sock forever. i seriously found some lonely socks that i've been holding onto since high school. i have moved these socks to school, back home, to my old apartment, and then to my current one. they weren't even nice socks. just gross white socks i've probably had since i was twelve. because i am disgusting. whatever. i did get rid of some of the loose socks though, so, you know that's good. oh, what? what do i mean "some?" well i totally kept like 6 mate-less socks and i don't even care. i am good at my life and you are jealous. 

i have THREE drawers of pajamas, what now?

also this

someone was seriously listening to music while using a public restroom. in a library. i realize that sometimes it is your jam-a-lam, but that gives me stage fright.

you're doing it WRONG!

so, to preface this, i wrote this post at work (in my SWEET ASS french journal with my SWEET ASS pen. seriously, envy me.
+=my jam.)
and seriously, after i finished, every single customer added a new dimension. they might be able to read my thoughts, which is unsettling, to say the least, but useful. 


moving on.


here is something near and dear to my heart: proper line ettiquite. turns out that a lot of people just can't work it out. they either a) shout things at me while i am clearly attending to someone else, or b), take "line" to be interpretive. it is not.


i love when people are not even close to being next in line and then waltz on up, hoping that they can just pay and leave. listen, i realize that it can be annoying to wait forever because the three people in front of you are getting some complicated things and you just want a pepsi. but as it turns out, i don't know how much the soda is with the tax and i'm in the middle of steaming milk here. stop. go to the gas station if you need your mountain dew that badly. sometimes these people try to form new lines. sometimes i ignore them. are you in front of the register? if not, you don't get served. sighing and tapping your fingers only makes me go slower (although that is always true. oh, you need your change RIGHT NOW? hold on a mo', i forgot how to count.)


now then, a line is exactly what it sounds like. picture one in your head. if what you are seeing is this ______, then good job, i am happy to give you things. buy fyi, a line is not a scrum. if you huddle all in a mass no one knows what is going on. one after another, not side by side. get it together because only you care who got there first. its coffee, not ellis island, so chill. 


 vs. 


really, the worst part of it is that there has only been one time where there were more than like, 4 people in line. it is not a busy place, which is what makes it even more confusing. i've seen this happen with only two people in line, such as...


UPDATE: (this is what i mean, people) just a little bit after writing the above, some dude came up and managed to stand both next to and in front of a girl who was in the middle of ordering. rude. but, and this is the interesting part (i guess), he wasn't some impatient kid trying to buy candy, he was at least 65. and generally, the people who form the register scrums or try to start new lines are old. this really makes me wonder if lines didn't come to the states until the 60's. 


i then observed another trend, where the next person in line stands at least five feet away from the person in front of them and waaaaay off to the side. in line? looking at the menu? milling around just to bother me? THERE ARE NO RULES HERE! 


do other people see these things in life?

um?

so, something in my room smells like bread. not like toast, so it is probably not a stroke, but an actual loaf of bread. have i been drunkenly munching on bread at night? am i actually liz lemon and i sleep eat? not that i know of and probably. no thanks bread-bed.

omg also, fucking this. sadly it isn't the whole book in all of its glory, but this will give you a wee taste. then you will go out and buy a copy for yourself and send one to me as a thank you and i will keep the extras in my bag and pass them out to people in bars to make friends like i did with old lady halloween candy last year. this is a capital idea, no?