I wanna be a statistic!

I often think about the things I would do if I were ever to get rich. The first thought that comes to mind, (of course), is buying a house with a million acres and little mini dog igloos for the thousands of dogs I am going to rescue and have living in my backyard. Besides the obvious, though, there are many, many conveniences that rich people know as "the norm" but you and I see as luxury. I want them all. All of them. Here are just some of those things.

A lingerie drawer. I desperately want a lingerie drawer. Right now I have a plastic basket where I throw my shit. Mismatched socks, raggedy thongs, bras with broken snaps that don't fit me. And it's all thrown in there. Mixed together and waiting anxiously to piss me off the next time I'm in a hurry looking for a fucking sock that doesn't rise ABOVE my ankles. Which, by the way, have no purpose being in the basket. In fact, I don't know how they got there.. because I did not buy them. I want a lingerie drawer. I want to open up the large drawer and see color coordinated lace.

Matching dishes and silverware. What is kiiiind of getting on my nerves lately is the fact that I have maybe six bowls. Two of the bowls are plastic baby bowls with ducks on them. One of them is a very small glass bowl that I can imagine is used to hold blueberries or water for a small dog. Then the polar opposite, the extremely large glass bowl. Too big for cereal, too small for anything else. There are two clear, plastic bowls that are cracked and somehow always greasy. Like, no matter hard you scrub these fuckers, there is just a layer of oil on them for no reason. Oh! And I forgot about the plate-bowls. They look like plates, but if you get reaaaally close, you can see that they are, in all actuality, bowls. They don't get any use because they have the depth of that drunk guy you tried to have a relationship with but couldn't because he never had anything to say. I want at least ten bowls, and I want them to be actual bowls. I want these bowls to match the plates and the silverware and the fucking measuring cups.

Things that are hung up right. Rich people's stuff is always hung up so right. You just know that all the correct hardware was used on that perfect beige wall with no oil heat stains. 90% of the stuff on my walls were hung up with thumb tacks. The other 10% were hung up with some kind of screw, pounded into the wall by a cement Buddha sculpture.

Display towels. You know how rich people always have those towels in their bathroom that are not to be touched? The ones that are rolled into the shape of a swan or some shit? I want those.

A fat kid pantry. First of all, I want a pantry in general. But second of all, I want this pantry to have EVERYTHING in it. Like Fruit Roll-ups. Oreos. Teddy Grahams. Cases of Diet Coke just waiting to be chilled. Cheet-os. Random boxes of like Rice-a-roni and shit. I won't really eat any of this but it just makes for a comfortable environment.

Fall/Winter- Good Feelings.

The sound the heat makes when it turns on. When it gets dark at like six and everyone's lives slow down and you feel excitement in your bones because you have found a new TV show to invest in for the months to come. Coffee shops advertisements over pumpkin spice lattes. The thought of drinking one and how it makes you feel like everything is right in the world. Buying those 99 cent pairs of gloves and the feeling of amazing warmness when you're freezing to death but you have gloves on and your hands are in your pockets at the same time. Sitting inside a heated car in the middle of a snowstorm. Halloween decorations going up in like August. Buying Halloween candy and pretending you're going to put it in cute glass bowls around your house for when "company" comes over, but you know you're just going to eat the shit out of it at 3 o'clock in the morning when the calories don't count. Buying the newest variation of peacoat from Nordstrom. Putting up Christmas decorations and getting concerned because it is making you way too happy and you think that maybe this is going to lead to some kind of hoarding issue in the future. The fat rolls you've acquired that nobody can see. Going Downtown during Christmas time and seeing movies with your boyfriend or really anyone that will have you. Seattle going back to normal- people are grumpy, it's rainy and cold, the beach is empty, and you are totally 100% overjoyed about it.

Fat Sixth Grader Mentality.

You know what's a weird thought? To think that each and every one of us, walking around with our chosen identities and masks to hide our true colors, are all realistically just a bunch of fat sixth grader masturbators on the inside.

That's how I associate myself. A fat sixth grader. I realize maybe that's not the grade everyone may choose, but that was by far my fattest and most loserish year to date, thus defining my self image forever. You see, underneath the red lipstick, platinum blonde hair and plethora of tattoos, I am a girl with excema all over her face, a really bad version of Posh Spice's pixie cut (that didn't work out because things like that don't look good on fat sixth graders), a stomach with three neatly placed fat rolls, and the inner dialogue of a girl who still plays school with her little sisters and probably doesn't know what her own vagina looks like. Not to say I was unhappy. In fact, I was quite content with my appearance. My mom instilled a wonderful sense of self-esteem in me which really saved me from being able to see myself in the mirror for what I actually looked like. Which was a raccoon. My deep-set eyes have always been an extremely endearing quality- if I were a rodent.

What I love about this is that every single one of us has these feelings. We are all just putting out into the world what we think people will approve of. Whether or not it is intentional, we are doing everything in our power not to be the kid we were in elementary school. This gives me a warm and happy feeling inside. It makes me feel that I like people more. You see, keeping in mind that we're all just walking around with fat sixth grader mentalities can really help one get ahead in life. It makes the world seem less scary. It makes people seem less intimidating.

Next time you see a hot chick or dude that you feel is way out of your league, consider this. Unless years of praise after their drastic turn for the better has inflated their self-worth to the point of no return, chances are this hot chick or hot dude identifies themselves as a lowly loser- just like you do! So don't let intimidation get the best of you. We're all a bunch of freaks on the inside.

How to get a semi-attractive girl to have sex with you, or even just hang out with you and make you look good so someone else will have sex with you.

Now, before I go into this, let me make one thing clear. Girls like to have sex too. Often, it's all they want from a man. Whoever thought up this whole "girls getting used and getting their poor hearts trampled on" thing was a fucking idiot. Or probably a middle-aged woman who sits around the house all day watching Ann Hathaway movies and complaining about her vagina pains.

Women like to hump too. It's only natural. But since we are the more vulnerable of the species, if often seems that women are the ones getting fucked over by horny dudes who are just trying to put their wee-wee in something. In reality, a lot of women out there want the same things men want. The stupid women are the ones who allow themselves to "get used" by men and then complain about it for days. Nobody forced you to drink ten Bamboozles, seduce the guy at the bar and have consensual sex with him. Why are you now, the next day after you regret your decision, whining and bitching that this guy "totally used you"? Shut UP! While I understand there are always other circumstances, I am speaking on behalf of the women who simply just want to get laid, and can't seem to find a man that doesn't make her feel like she's simply just getting laid.

So I write this, not only for men to get a clue, but for the women that they are preying upon. Those women probably want to have sex with you, but the minute you fuck it up, say the wrong thing or wear the wrong shoes, your chance is OVER. If you don't want it to be, you should probably listen to everything I say.


First things first, you must find a middle ground between that fat boy complex you have inside your head, and that other complex which somehow allows you to believe that walking up to a woman will make her want to have sex with you. You're not that fucking hot, and if you were, you probably wouldn't need to read this.

On the contrary, no girl wants to fuck a man that wouldn't fuck himself. So figure out how to not consider yourself ugly, stupid and boring. The minute you say something like, "Yeah.. hot girls don't like me" or "Wow... someone like you would really want to go out with ME?" Yeah, that's the minute we realize you have ZERO confidence. And it grosses us out. I cannot stress it enough.. no matter HOW ugly you are, you CAN get a woman. If you are not getting any, you are simply sabotaging it for yourself.

So get that shit straight. Once you do that, find someone. And don't just go for anyone that has a vagina. Women can tell when you're not picky, which is also gross, because it leads us to believe that ALL you care about is getting dome by anyone who will have you. SICK. Find a girl that you think is hot, that you may have a chance with, and chat it up with her. If she is taken or uninterested, do not move on to one of her friends. Find a new group.

Okay, so, it's pretty self-explanatory what to do once this girl is seemingly interested in you. Obviously, don't fuck it up. You're going to want to invite her out on a casual date, not too casual and not too fancy. Something fun and not weird or obviously based around you getting laid. Something normal.

Once she agrees, because she probably will since you will not be acting like a douche-bag, leave it at that. Finish up your hangout session, agree to pick her up and said time and date, and leave for the night.


So, date night has come. I must stress that you need to show up at her house EXACTLY on time. If you are even the slightest bit early, you look eager. And it's also annoying as fuck because we are not done getting ready yet. We will be getting ready until the exact moment we are supposed to leave. You must also not show up late. Five minutes late TOPS.

Now, you are on the date. The girl has entered your vehicle, and of course you have the heat blasting and you are not playing douchey music. You are doing anything and everything to keep the conversation flowing. You reach your destination, let's just say you two are meeting at a bar/venue, which is usually the norm these days.

I realize that you have both chosen a place which is centered around booze and bad decisions, but you must not do what is expected of you. You are allowed to have three drinks at the most. The moment you start pounding the booze is the moment we realize you are totally an alcoholic. No girl wants to fuck a guy who she's probably going to have to be merely "tolerating" in less than an hour.

She is allowed to drink as much as she wants, but you are not going to condone her drinking more than she should. If she sees that you're not getting shit-faced, she probably won't want to either. Now, here comes the important part. No matter how tipsy or drunk she gets, you DO NOT invite her over to your place after. DO NOT hint, in any way, that you took her on this date because you wanted to get laid. There is a HUGE chance that she wants to have sex with you, if all is going well, but listen. And listen good. SHE MUST THINK THAT THE SEX IS HER IDEA. Yes, you heard me. She MUST think that any type of sexual encounter that happens between the two of you was HER idea and HER idea alone. Why? Because she doesn't want to feel like a piece of meat.

This is what a woman is thinking: "Wow. He is fucking HOT. Oh man. I wanna do him. I could do him. I'm really considering it actually. Maybe I will invite him over. But... it may be too soon tonight. I don't wanna come off as a whore. But DEFINITELY next time. But... if it does happen tonight, that would be okay too. But I'm going to see how it goes. Things are going well so far. What if I just invite him over, and it doesn't have to be anything. Then maybe.. maybe things will get hot and we'll start making out. And maybe just leave it at that... or maybe do more. Hmmm. That could be fun."

The minute that you RUDELY interrupt our train of thought by saying, "So... ya wanna come over to my place?" That's the moment our dreams are crushed. That's the moment we realize that nothing magical is going to happen, there will be no more excitement, no more build-up, no more "what if's". Nothin'. That is the moment that you become "that guy". And "that guy" only gets laid by dumb, ugly girls.

So, if she never invites you over on this date, don't poop your pants over it. Because guess what. The moment you say, "Alright lady.. this has been fun, howbout I give you a ride home and we can plan something for next weekend?" That is THE moment. Inside, this girl is thinking "OH YES. THIS GUY IS FUCKING HOT, NOT DESPERATE, AND HAS CLASS. YES YES YES YES YES." If you didn't get laid tonight, you're definitely getting laid next time.

You must not be eager. Your eagerness is completely fucking transparent to us. If you want to get laid but you can't wait till a second date or hangout to do it, you are way too fucking eager. Get a damn hooker.

Not all women are as stupid as they are often made out to be. The smart ones, we know what's up. We know the ins and outs of all your games. We know what you want the minute you lay your feasting eyes on us. And guess what? We want that too. The reason you may not be getting it is completely and utterly YOUR fault. So before you try your normal tactics, think again. You can have WHATEVER you want. It's all how you go about it.

Emotional Eater.

Below I have a list of human emotions, and the relationship each has with food.


-Anxiety over upcoming events->The feeling of stress->Food of every kind enters the mouth at every second of the day.

-Getting dumped->The feeling of stress/heartache->Only coffee, cigarettes, alcohol and/or your preference of drugs will be consumed for the next 3-6 weeks. Absolutely no food except the bare minimum needed to stay alive will be consumed.

-The use of adderall/cocaine/ecstasy/every drug besides marijuana->Temporary feelings of life being perfect->One will most likely be disgusted by the thought of food of any kind. When consumed, food will mimic the feeling of eating sand. After said drug has worn off, one will experience a feeling of unbearable hunger and will proceed to consume anything/everything available.

-The honeymoon stage->The feeling of being in love->Food will only be eaten when the other party eats, so that they don't think you're weird. Inside, though, the nervous-excited-poopy feeling is happening constantly making it impossible to find any interest in food whatsoever.

-Being in a serious relationship->Feelings of unconditional love/boredom/everyday stress->Regular-large amounts of food will be consumed. Mostly a lot of snacking. Late at night preferably.

-Pregnancy->Feelings of annoyance/stress/outbursts of love and happiness/exhaustion/fits of emotion/crying fits/lack of sex drive/too much sex drive/feeling fat/a baby growing inside you->One will consume extremely large meals, then get really full, really quickly. Only to discover, thirty minutes later that they are starving once again.

-Seeing yourself on video->Feelings of self-hatred/extreme vanity/self-loathing/disgust/anxiety/anger/rage->Everything and anything will be eaten that day, as it is going to be the last day you ever eat again.

-Coming down from any drug->Feelings of extreme exhaustion/possible sudden death/total depression/paranoia/sadness/anger/a loss of interest for pretty much everything even puppies->Large glasses of milk, big bowls of fruit, and anything that your mom may have once cooked you for breakfast will be consumed, as to make you feel like you are still the child you once were, and if not that, at least a normal, functioning human being.

-Boredom->Feelings of boredom->Food is pretty much the only thing around worthy of counting on.

-Recent weight loss->Feelings of total elation/true and real happiness/all is right in the world/nothing can bring you down/the sun is shining everywhere/everyone wants to be you/gratefulness just to be living->Eating food becomes enjoyable, since one has zero desire to go overboard.

-Hearing your ex has moved on->Feelings of hatred/rage/hellish doom/anxiety ridden panic attacks/utter depression/annoyance/urge to kill->Any food that was once consumed will immediately and forcefully be spewed out of one's mouth through the act of making oneself vomit.

-Being single for a long period of time->Feelings of boredom/loneliness/horniness->The act of yo-yo dieting will occur, pretty much every day.

That one day.

We sat on the warm, crisp grass, planting ourselves right in the middle of the big park we had been driving all day to find. It was the most perfect park in the world, and it was lucky that we were stopping by. Guitars in hand, sunglasses on, hardly any clothes, we were a sight to be seen. The day was bright, the sun was hot, the surroundings unfamiliar. We swore that day that we were moving here, no matter what we had to do, we were moving here.

A feeling of contentment permeated our grins for those few hours. We knew no one. No one could touch us. We owned the town. This park was our park and we were singing in it. A perfect buzz had floated to our brains, the kind of day-drinking that makes you wonder why you never day-drink. Beneath the exterior of our over-dramatic antics our hearts were sad, and we were lonely. But not today. Not on this day. On this day no one could tell us a thing.

Days like this, they came sparingly. Between the endless Seattle nights, over-indulging on whiskey and cigarettes and falling on sidewalks getting skinned knees, and creating fake interests in men who bored us, days like this were treasured. The heartache of past loves and the feeling of monotony and boredom and pain all fell to the wayside on this day, and all we had was sun. And a best friend. And a good buzz. And a feeling that everything was right in the world, a feeling of unimaginable hope, if only for a few hours. You never realize it at the time, that you will remember this day forever.

A Story.

Can't go back now. The decision has been made in one swift, effortless move. I am starting to feel sweaty and excited. The kind of excitement you feel when you're spooning with a guy you like and are thinking about sex, or when your drug dealer answers his phone. The kind of excitement that makes you poop.

I look at him and I know it is only a matter of time, now. We lay around and do normal things. Go outside and smoke a cigarette. Walk inside and go on the computer. Look at things. Make pointless conversation. The kind you make when you're waiting for something to happen. You'll never remember what it was about.

I am not sure what to expect, so I continue on with my normalcy. When it stops being normal, I'll know.

In what felt like half a second, everything changed. It's as if it had crawled slowly down my spine and burst at once, combusting inside my little body, not knowing where to go or what to do, only that it was there.

I looked over at him and I knew he was starting to feel it, too. I sensed a panic in him, almost. Our sentences to each other felt brief, almost robotic. "You feel it?" "Um, I dunno." "I feel it." Conversation felt extremely weird, wrong. Distorted. My eyes roll back.

I am no longer in control of my extremities. I lay on my back and I feel like a cat in heat. When I breathe, the sound of each breath is magnified inside my head. I hear myself sighing loudly in and out, and I wonder if I am the only one that can hear it. I am not inside my head now, I am inside someone else's. I rub my body all over the sheets. I start to feel a little overwhelmed, almost scared. What is this that's going on? Will this pass? It felt to be too much.

My entire being is warm. Blood has rushed to every part of me, warm blood. Tingly blood. Happy blood. My eyes shutter as if I'm blinking them uncontrollably but I'm not. I open a piece of gum and put it in my mouth. It is shockingly sweet, and it doesn't feel right. It is as if my saliva is breaking it down, and it is disintigrating into nothing but a tiny strand as thin as a hair. I chew it hard, mouth opening and closing dramatically with every chew. My brain is spinning and I have no recollection as to what is going on or what he is doing or feeling, I am purely living for each single moment. I twiddle the gum wrapper between my fingers and it becomes smaller and smaller, until it disappears completely.

I stand and feel as if my head was once a bowling ball glued to that bed and now I am light as a feather. Every feeling I have ever felt in my life rushes up to my head at this very moment. I literally dance across the carpet, twirling around like a ballerina in long, graceful strides. This is quite the feeling. A grin overcomes my face, I am laughing. I am pursing my lips. I am grabbing my tits and running around the room. The cat is not a cat. The carpet is now my grass and I am in a meadow filled with flowers.