I Like Pina Coladas And Pretending To Be Sane

(Jimmy Buffett & Rupert Holmes knew what they were talking about.  I just figured out how to make mixed drinks with my NutriBullet so I think it’s safe to say I’m getting my life together.)

Hello, my darlings.  It’s been a long time.  I’ve longed to feel your sweet caress against my parietal lobe.  Or whatever part of your brain can see blog notifications.  Once again, the world has taken me hostage with homework (avoiding it), bleakness on the news, and the fact that I JUST discovered “vlogging”.

It’s blogging, but with videos.  (Otherwise known as crack.)

Ghost Hunting Shane Dawson Psychic Twins Youtube Vlog
Shane Dawson is currently my favorite, as well as anything with ghosts.

Supposedly, vlogging has been around for over a decade but as far as I’m concerned, it’s the new hip thang yo.  Sure, I used Youtube for listening to music, but I had absolutely no idea there was so much awesome stuff out there.

Ghost hunters, conspiracy theory videos (my long lost love), and people reacting to things… it’s like I was in an internet-coma and finally woke up.  It’s actually making me consider making my own “vlog” but I’m not totally sure how to do that and I don’t know if anybody would bother watching because my life is terribly boring.

I could vlog about the ghosts in my attic?  Although they’re not too talkative these days.  My hope is that they’ve moved on to heaven or whatever but it’s more likely they’ve decided to haunt more interesting/less-talkative type people.

(Perhaps my Burmese nextdoor neighbors?  A nice spooking with the added benefit of being introduced to a different and fascinating culture.  Good for you, ghosts.  Eat, Pray, Love and all that.)

real ghost gif sheet lol

The other reason I’ve been absent is because school.  It’s trying to kill me but I remain strong.  Plus I’ve been getting involved with people and things which is completely out of character for me.

For example, one night I had rum and pina colada mix and my Nutribullet was like, “Hey there pretty lady, ya know you can add those ingredients to me with ice and have a party,” and I was like, “OMG WHY HAVEN’T I THOUGHT OF THIS BEFORE?!?!?!”  And my Nutribullet said, “Because you’re not the sharpest blade in the blender,” and I was like, “Good one, Nutribullet.”  So I took the advice of a household appliance and got pretty tipsy on some delicious iced cocktails.

Then I was all pissed cause Alessandro was watching Fox News and the world is getting on my nerves with political nonsense so I thought to myself (out loud), “Why don’t I write a letter to people and tell them to shut up because they’re being annoying?” and Alessandro was like, “You should do that,” but I wasn’t talking to him so I said, “I wasn’t talking to you,” and set to work on writing a rum-and-stupidity-fueled piece to Thought Catalog (which I had no idea that they’d publish because I mean come on, but they did).

Alanna Open Letter To Millennials Thought Catalog

Anyways, I made the mistake of assuming nobody in my real life pays attention to me or what I do on social media so I posted the link on my actual Facebook page.  Somehow, people saw it and then started seeing links to my blog and my instagram and twitter for my blog, and now everyone(ish) I’ve ever known since high school found me and is following my stuff.

“Why is that bad?” you might ask.  Well, if you’ve been following me or know my writing even a little bit, you know my candor vis-a-vis the people I know in real life and how I say terrible things about them as well as revealing many secrets about myself.  So whether it’s libel or slander or just being a dick (because what I say is true so technically it’s not libellous), I’m gonna piss a lot of people off.

Have you guys ever posted something you’ve later come to regret?  Or have stories of family and friends kill you for what you write?

Tell me about it in the comments.  Or come to my house and chat because that’s how easy it is to find me now.

So… The Ghosts In My Attic Are Back Again. Much Like Impending Stress And Some Inevitable Doom.

(School has begun once again. Somebody kill me now, I’m too old to be dealing with this.)

I should have graduated in May but I’m lazy and “completely lacking of any self-discipline” according to my parents. And some other people. However, I disagree. I think the simple fact that I’m able to shower and dress myself most days puts me ahead of the game.

(Okay, not “most days“. More like “sometimes“. I’m still gonna call that a win.)

Also, I’m in the planner again this year but it’s the same picture as last time (refer to this post). My one friend is on the cover somehow being photographed taking a selfie, which confused me greatly until Alessandro explained that someone else was taking the picture. (I truly don’t know how I’ve even made it this far in school.)

My friend is the fox in the green tee shirt.
My friend is the fox in the green tee shirt. (I just realized it kinda looks like he’s flipping you off.)

Also, the ghosts in my attic have returned and for some reason want the lights on all the time even when I try to explain that they’re making my electric bill unhappy. Plus, there’s only a finite amount of light bulbs in the world but they don’t care. I assume they’re up all night reading the mass collection of books I had to buy for my writing course.

(At least they’re well-read ghosts. Maybe they call over the other ghosts in the neighborhood for a ghostly book club?)

ghost reading

While they’re discussing literature, I’ll be creating it, 24/7 for the next few months. I have to complete 40,000 words of my book every month (and hopefully soon figure out a plotline). I’m terrible at climactic events and twists, so if anyone has any ideas, please let me know. I’ll totally credit you.

If I don’t write for a while, don’t be mad at me. I might be dead from stress but at least I can hang out with the avid readers in my attic.

Is That “Where’s The Beef?” Lady Still Alive? Because We Can Tell Her To Stop Looking.

(I’ve found the beef. It’s all around me. I could grill burgers with everyone I know.)

But oh wait, I can’t…

BECAUSE I HAVE BEEF WITH LIKE ALL OF THEM.

Where's The Beef

Yessirree, my lucky streak with making friends is alive and well. Everywhere I go people break up, get into fights, and are covered in boils.

(But that’s not because of me. It’s because God hates me and sends the Plagues of Egypt to my life.)

(Make sure to paint your doorframe in sheep’s blood.)

I totally went back on the whole “Machiavellian” thing and trusted people I should not have. Once again, I attempted to bring people together and it ended in madness.

At least I know I don’t have a career in matchmaking.

Also, why do I surround myself with men who like to fight one another? I mean, can’t they just be like women? Say passive-aggressive insults to each other and talk shit behind their backs? It’s much easier and it doesn’t involve me LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND!!!!!!!!

I may not have a lot of closely-held principles, but I do live by one rule: if you hurt someone I love, you’re dead to me.

So am I going to forgive these people? ….

Wolf of Wall Street gif

I still don’t visit the imaginary grave of a kid who called my best friend “Harry Potter” in the first grade, just because she had a bowl cut and round glasses. I saw this kid’s ghost all the way through high school and never acknowledged it.

Even when I bumped into it in the hallway, knocking his ghost-books all over the place.

(Why a ghost needs books, I’ll never know, but it must be a common thing considering my books are always scattered all around my attic. Where the ghosts live.)

Regardless, I’m really beginning to think no one should hang around me EVER. It’s not good for anyone. I’m like a human sitcom except it’s not all that funny.

But people are just lucky I don’t seek revenge and everything is illegal because of the feminization of our society. I can’t even be like, “TRY THAT SHIT AGAIN AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS.” Cause bitches be bitches and they’d go tell on me. So I’m just gonna have to stew in my anger and chill in my house all like this:

Hunter S Thompson shooting gif

I blame Nixon.

Stupid Reasons Why Life Is Interfering With My Blog.

(Besides the fact that laziness is a lifestyle, and I live that life to the fullest. Doing absolutely nothing like it’s 1999.)

A lot of people talk about how my generation doesn’t wanna do anything except watch television or play on our phones (they are not wrong), but sometimes I actually work towards something and then get derailed because everyone and everything is stupid. (Not you guys, though. You guys are perfect in every way.)

I haven’t had much time/ambition/ideas lately because the universe is trying to kill me with stupid freaking occurrences that are completely out of my control. (Or perhaps my own fault.)

1. I am in a state of un-laughingness that I cannot seem to escape.

Generally, I’m in a constant state of laughs. Everything is hilarious (except when it’s not) and I live to enjoy the funny. Right now, however, I am all seriousness and I’m not sure why. I’ve heard that with borderline personality disorder, you tend to dissociate from your feelings to avoid dealing with unpleasant situations, so that’s a possibility. I can’t really tell if I’m sad, angry, or just hungry. (Like one of those sad middle-class teenagers on Tumblr.)

Indeed, nameless hobo. Indeed.
Indeed, nameless hobo. Indeed.

2. I’m in a battle of wills with my father and I think I’m losing.

So the continuing saga of “Alanna Versus Daddy” marches onward. He’s being immature and telling me that my smoking and drinking and general lifestyle choices are wrong and I’m saying, “Why don’t we just talk this out over a couple drinks?”

(But he doesn’t drink, so it would be more like, “Why don’t we just settle this over a few hours of rigorous exercise, sharing stories about our high school glory days, and wrap it all up with ‘The O’Reilly Factor’ and a prayer?”)

Because he would totally be into that.

Except for the fact that he’s actually really fucking pissed and all he keeps telling me (only through email because my father won’t answer my calls) that I’m “incapable of telling the truth” and have never learned “obedience”. There is a definite possibility that he is slightly correct, but only in certain situations. For instance, if I’m walking home from the bar and a cop asks me how much I’ve had to drink, I’d respond with, “Only one glass, officer. Thank you for your concern.” Or if my mom looks at my eyes and asks what I’ve been doing, I say, “Oh my goshhhh, nothing! I’m just tired, okay?!?”

Regardless, I miss my daddy, and even though he is mad at me I still love him and want to be friends. I would totally wave the white flag for my homie.

Chilling since the beginning.
Chilling since the beginning.

3. Sad things just keep fucking happening for no goddamn reason!

I don’t think there’s ever been a time of peace in the Middle East, so I try to avoid news about it, but there’s some bad guys over there doing some bad bullshit and it’s really uncool. Plus, Joan Rivers died, and that’s so fucked up.

(The list of people I’ve always wanted to meet upon becoming famous is rapidly shrinking. If Bob Dylan dies, I don’t even know what I’d do. Probably die of heartbreak, which I think is just called “Broken Heart Syndrome” but somebody should definitely come up with a better name for it. Stupid scientists…)

Also, [my boyfriend] is always at work or school so we have very little time together, and my professor assigned a paper about a “religious political cartoon” but I never ever ever can comprehend what the hell those stupid things are trying to say, so I shall surely fail.

4. The ghosts in my attic are back, and they’re being super uncool.

I went up there a few weeks ago and had a chat with them, telling them how I get that they need their own space and it’s probably shitty being dead and they can totally hang out as long as they’re not too loud or scary. But just like a ghost, they’re being loud, stomping around the attic when I’m trying to sleep, and moving stuff that I don’t want moved.

They’re like children, these fuckers.

(No, you ARE stupid. Damn ghosts... I should exorcise you.)
(No, you ARE stupid. Damn ghosts… I should exorcise you.)

5. My friends are ignoring me.

I don’t know if it’s on purpose or if they’re just busy BECAUSE NO ONE WILL FUCKING TALK TO ME. What’s the deal, guys? Are you mad? Did I do something wrong? What can I do to help?

BUT I DON’T KNOW BECAUSE NO ONE WILL ANSWER. Maybe they got together with my dad and were all like, “Yo, how funny would it be if we just totally stopped talking to Alanna and just let her go crazy wondering why? Let’s all do that because we’re jerks.”

(That’s probably how that conversation went down.)

Thankfully, I’ve been making friends with my neighbors (who, despite being much older than myself, are all awesome and friendly and like to smoke cigs and drink with me UNLIKE MY SO-CALLED FRIENDS OR FAMILY!!!!!!). So that’s been cool. It’s good to be around people that are similar to yourself.

Old Ladies

Basically, all this nonsense has kept me from blogging and/or responding to comments and reading other peoples’ blogs. I need to find more humor-oriented blogs, so if anyone has any suggestions please let me know. Meanwhile, I’ll be here. Waving onion grass around my attic to keep the ghosts away, and crying in my bedroom about how not even my parents wanna talk to me while I re-blog sad pictures on Tumblr.

Such is life, I suppose. (At least that’s what Jason Bateman keeps saying to me in my dreams. He is so wise inside my brain.)

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MAN! WHERE ARE THE CLEAN TOWELS???”

(The pile of dirty laundry is becoming sentient.)

Living with another person (especially another gender) is madness and also a double-edged sword. Or bittersweet. Whatever.

One the one hand, you have someone to hold you at night when you’re scared that the ghosts  in the attic want to attack you (and someone to take out the trash and stuff), which is all nice. On the other hand, if they weren’t around, you’d never have to do dishes or cook food (if you’re like me and only use bad-for-the-environment disposable things, and WHEN you eat, if ever, you exclusively use the drive-through at Hardees. Or sometimes McDonald’s if you’re in the mood to drive the excruciating extra 3 miles).

Plus, I would ALWAYS (mostly) know where EVERYTHING is because I put it there. And if something WAS in fact misplaced, I’d know that it was the ghosts from the attic trying to fuck with me.

(Or I was drunk and forgot.)

In which case, all I’d have to do is call the paranormal club at my college (ya know, that show, Paranormal State?) and they’d totally go Ghostbusters all over the crib. Maybe Bill Murray from 30 years ago would show up…

Anything is possible.

"I want you inside of me..." "It sounds like you've got at least two or three people in there already."
“I want you inside of me…”
“It sounds like you’ve got at least two or three people in there already.”

Granted, I’m not the cleanest person either. I might not be alive if it weren’t for [my boyfriend]. At least I try, though.

Like last week when I did my own version of “Y.M.C.A.” and replaced the lyrics with things like,
“Young man, there’s no need to feel down
I said, young man, pick your clothes off the ground
I said, young man, this is not a playground
There’s this new. thing. called. a. hamper!”
All while doing the motions a la Village People. It was pretty impressive.

Life is just proving that I have in fact become my father because how intense I get whenever anything is moved. Like my laptop, for instance, which I found on the floor this morning HONEST TO GOD looking like someone had just tossed it off the couch onto the ground.

....just....why????....
….just….why????….

Also, he leaves his pot-smoking stuff EVERYWHERE. I hate looking at it and it smells.

(I usually only smoke when I’m wasted, but at least I have the decency to clean up all my beers!!! Which is actually quite miraculous considering how very drunk I get, and is extremely considerate of me, taking time out of my busy beer-drinking/ashtray-fire-extinguishing schedule.)

(Saintlike, some would say.)

Oh, by the way, this is a picture of my boyfriend. He recently got his hair cut, which made me very sad. Fun fact: he’s got something called “congenital anosmia” which means he was born without a sense of smell. It’s like his nose is blind or deaf. (Note the excellent mustache.)

BF REDACTED
That’s my boyfriend :) Quite like Eddie Munster as a grown-up, right?

All in all, if it weren’t for [my boyfriend], I’d probably be dead right now and also not going to school since he kicks me out of bed every morning and makes me go, which is annoying, but nice. Double-edged sword or not, life isn’t all bad, and if you have someone who will try to convince you that there’s no ghosts in your attic wanting to kill you so that you can all hang out, you’re pretty lucky. :)