(Also, shut up. Everybody’s got an opinion, and frankly, I don’t care about them. Except you guys’ opinions. Because you matter and aren’t assholes.)
Pretty much everybody in my life are being dicks recently and I’ve been daydreaming about buying them all plane tickets to some remote island with a badass 5-star resort (all-expenses-paid-type-deal) but then tell the pilot to drop them all off and leave them there and then they find out there’s no resort or actual phones or internet or boats and they just have to all be together with their dickishness.
Then, after a suitable amount of time to suffer my wrath and my irony, they would be allowed to come back and never criticize me again because of my epic superpowers and leader-of-the-world-ness which I plan to gain via Faustian bargain.
This plan is foolproof.
So who would you send to Penis Island and why? Also, should this be a real place? (I think it is actually.) Let me know in the comments about the dicks in your life. Love y’all :)
(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.)
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.)
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).
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.
(Jk. I showered in the interim. But only because the back of my head turned into a giant dreadlock and my cat fell in the toilet. It’s been a tough month.)
This isn’t really a cohesive post because I’ve been sick and I have to go back to school next week and I want to jump off a cliff. I’ve been hiding in bed with Rufus (my giant stuffed dog), Nyquil, and large bags of chips. It’s also come to my attention that I’ve gained weight because apparently when you turn 23 you can’t sit around eating bullshit and drinking entire cases of beer anymore.
Not to mention that evvverrryyything is falling apart. Over Christmas, Diane Kitten decided to celebrate the holidays by eating tinsel and scoot around the apartment dragging a long shiny string from her butt with a little turd ball on the end, and I couldn’t even snap a picture because everything was happening so fast and my body was in a laughter-seizure.
Then for the New Year (and because she only drinks water that poses adventure), she was sitting on the bathroom sink watching me pee (it’s weird, I know, shut up) and when I got up, SHE JUMPED INTO THE GODDAMN TOILET. I screamed and she screamed and it was totally madness (not at all Sparta), but luckily Alessandro ran in and saved the day by fishing her out and covering all of us in my urine.
In light of all this crazy, I barely did any work on my novel, washed none of my clothes, didn’t clean my house at all (except for the bathroom), and wasted my entire break in bed/playing Grand Theft Auto V. Also, my body is turning on me because for the very first time in my life I threw up after drinking.
So now I have to lose weight, stop drinking, do my laundry, and find a new therapist. (The one I see at school for free is great, but she’s really nice and I tend to lie to her so she doesn’t see how nuts I am. How are you supposed to tell a sweet little Christian lady your opinions on the best methods of torture/execution or details of the dirty dream you had about your cousin?)
You can read all about it in my book. If I ever actually finish.
Anyways, so I don’t bum you guys out too hard, I’ll end with a conversation between me and myself which Alessandro so rudely interrupted…
ME: They say, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”, but why the Hell not? Are they self-conscious about their teeth or bad breath or something? And if so, somebody give them a mint and some Crest White Strips. Or is it because they’ll bite you and then they wouldn’t technically be a “gift horse” but rather a “punishment horse”?
ME: Or is the expression, “Don’t PUNCH a gift horse in the mouth”? Because at least that would make sense. Nobody likes being punched in the mouth, including gift horses. Also, what even is a “gift horse”? I have to look this up…
ME:[Making a verbal reminder on my cell phone] “Lookup ‘gift horse’. And the expression about it.” I’m picturing a horse with a fancy hat that rides into towns in the Wild West, bringing gifts to all the good pioneer people, like a sort of equine Santa Claus. Unless you punched him in the mouth. In which case he comes to your house and takes a giant horse-dump in your stockings. Instead of coal.
ALESSANDRO:[Poking his head into the bedroom with a look of great confusion] Who the HELL are you talking to??! Are you alright?!?
ME: I’m reminding myself to lookup the origin of why you shouldn’t punch a gift horse in the mouth.
ALESSANDRO: It’s, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
ME: Why not though?
ALESSANDRO: Because a horse’s teeth indicate how healthy it is, so if someone gives you a horse it’s considered rude to look at its mouth since you’re assuming they gave you a weak or sickly horse.
ME: Well then the saying should really be, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth until after the person who gave you the gift horse leaves and then you can be all kind of judgemental about their crappy non-gift horse.”
ALESSANDRO: …Uhhh…. I guess so…
Exactly. Get with it, colloquialisms. Nobody wants to end up with a broken horse. (Actually… yes you do. Oh well. You guys know what I mean.)
(Yeah, that’s right. I’m being honest. Gross, but honest. Because the truth will set you free. Free from hygiene and other human beings, perhaps. Yet sometimes we must get ugly to create something beautiful.)
I gotta say, though, chilling in my own filth isn’t too bad. It gives me an excuse not to run errands or hang out with my friends and Alessandro hasn’t bothered me for sex while I’m trying to write. Also, I don’t even smell. You’re probably thinking, “Yeah right, Alanna. You probably stink like shit but can’t smell yourself because you’re gross and noseblind.” But then again….. Idgaf.
The reason I haven’t showered (in case you were wondering) is that I’ve been busy with very important things like banging my head against available walls until words come out, reading a part of my novel in front of other human beings (!), and attempting (unsuccessfully) to take videos of cats having sex outside at night.
(“Kitty Porn”, perhaps. But the videos are just of blackness and me drunk and laughing in the background which is probably for the best.)
In other news, I had to actually read the words that I wrote out loud and IN FRONT OF ACTUAL PEOPLE. I opened for Jon Sealy, author of The Whiskey Baron, at my college last month. In a huge auditorium with about 30 billion people. (Or like 30. I’m not Rain Man, with all the counting and stuff. I was just trying not to throw up.)
I don’t have many pictures, but here’s one I can share with you. It’s a screenshot from a video my mom took with her phone that neither of us can figure out how to move onto a computer or even Facebook.
My piece was incredibly dark and personal because I didn’t know the protocol for reading in public and had no idea so many people would be there (including other students who got front row seats to my crazy). In the video, you can hear my mom gasping when I swear or say terrible things about self-harm or alcoholism, which is funny but also quite upsetting, and my voice is ridiculous.
They need to develop the technology to make you sound like Patrick Stewart ASAP. (Meanwhile, NASA is having Scott Kelly take instagram pics of space. Priorities, people…)
(I am currently experiencing terrible writer’s block though, so to make this post possible, I had to phone a friend. Like “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” but instead of money and prizes, everyone gets to read. Just as good, right?)
Lately I’ve had to read a bunch of depressing stuff about mental illness and suicidal teenagers, so my joking game is pretty weak. However, I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by a group of Humor Jedi masters, and the LOL’s are strong within them. I turned to my friend Colin for help on this FBF post after we recently had an extremely in-depth and meaningful discussion about my town putting in a new Chick-Fil-A.
Despite their openly anti-gay stance, he still eats there as much as possible because fast food trumps ideology any day. And even though they’re not open on Sunday’s, every day at Chick-Fil-A is the sabbath (according to Colin).
Some have criticized his unfaltering love of the establishment, but there will always be haters and also, YOLO.
So there you have it, folks. My half-assed Funny Blog Friday post, all thanks to my brother from another mother. Shout out to him and the rest of the FBF crew! <3
(Seriously, go read their posts, they actually put work into them.)
(‘Cause my life is blowing up. Much like [insert innapropriate reference here]. There’s really no joking about bombs. Unless they include Jäger. Which supposedly means “hunter” in German. Ergo, comedy + bombs = NEIN!!)
(Also, comedy + Germany = nahh. No offense, Germany. You just have yet to make people laugh.)
Anyways, I saw a tiny alligator today. That’s not my news but I feel like it should be mentioned.
But my news is totally non-gator-related. It’s actually pretty awesome and possibly unreal. Perhaps even irrational. (Maybe if an alligator bites me, I’ll wake up and realize it was all a dream like how last night I dreamt LeSean McCoy pooped on my shoes. Which is a story for another time.)
My big news is that I’m working with one of my professors to write a novel.
So that’s why I probably won’t be writing much on here in the next few months. My book is gonna be about some serious stuff like mental illness and institutionalization and the like, but no worries folks; I’m only here to make you laugh. But in secret, I do have another side. It’s dark and crazy and a little bit sick. Maybe you’ll like it, though. So wish me luck and hope I get published.
If I make it as a writer, everybody’s getting a boat.
So, ya know… send good vibes. You might just get a boat.
(And who doesn’t love a nice boat?)
No one, that’s who.
Here’s a great song from one of the best Rolling Stones’ albums ever. Enjoy.