First Kiss
6th grade was awful. I’d rather have a never-ending yeast infection, than relive the emotional intensity of early junior high. But to be fair, it wasn’t all bad because the year ended with my first boyfriend.
Read More6th grade was awful. I’d rather have a never-ending yeast infection, than relive the emotional intensity of early junior high. But to be fair, it wasn’t all bad because the year ended with my first boyfriend.
Read MoreThe stand-up comedy scene is a dark world filled with miserable human beings that hate themselves. So naturally I’m drawn to it like a lost cub who just found her herd. Except, the herd are a bunch of dicks who want nothing to do with the cub other than fuck it. Let’s get out of this cub metaphor, because having sex with a baby cub is quite disturbing.
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I’m pretty laid back… and possibly lazy. Sometimes I blame my laziness on being from the South. There’s something about the humidity and the deep roots of racism that weigh on people there. I’ve also had a dead-beat dad that wasn’t a good role model. I’ve never had a mother so there wasn’t anyone to tell me to do chores. I could go and on, but in honor of this blog, I won’t.
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6th grade didn’t started off that well. On the first day of school my best friend, Amy, wanted to try out the brand new zip line that our school had built over the summer, and I most certainly did not. It was a metal zip line that was probably only 15 feet long and 7 feet high. In order to “zip,” you had to grab the handle and jump off a platform that then would propel you swiftly to the other side. I was afraid of heights, even little ones. I hated anything fast that I couldn’t control. But most discernibly, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold my own weight. My upper body strength was pretty grim. What can I say? I wasn’t the energetic sporty type. In fact, during free time, I was more of the hide out in the shrubs while daydreaming of a different life type. Amy, on the other hand, was athletic and exceedingly social with boys. I would describe Amy as a slutty tomboy if that makes any sense. She wore jean shorts, never dresses, and she must have gotten her period over the summer because she had a rack-attack going on. She confidently was aware of it too. I on the other hand, while I had received my period over the summer as well, was still wearing a white training bra. I had definitely gotten hairier and smellier though. I, too, was aware of my bodily changes but they had made me quite insecure. I wished I had Amy’s confidence or cup size.
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A thing or two about me is that, I love anything with tomatoes and…I grew up without a mother. Even though I know you’re really intrigued about my love for tomatoes. (All tomatoes? Like in everything? Tomatoes as a topping on a pizza? But it already has marina which is tomato based. What about ketchup? Do you count that? It’s mainly just sugar). But this piece isn’t about tomatoes. (And yes, I group ketchup in as my love for tomatoes obviously). < Sigh > It’s about the latter.
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First of all, can we change the word “blog?” There’s something humiliating about that word. I’m embarrassed to admit I have a blog. I confess to people about this like I have an STD. Not that there is anything wrong with having an STD. I read that Jennifer Garner has herpes. Anyway, this blog isn’t about herpes or Jennifer Garner unless Jennifer Garner gives me herpes. Then yeah, of course, I will be dedicating my blog to that. But that hasn’t happened…yet.
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