My boyfriend and I got into a fight last night
Unlike most of our fights this one was held during the middle of a "punk show." He got pissy and said I hated society. The fact that we were standing amongst a crowd of nonconformists seemed a little too ironic. I don't HATE society. I just hate people.
It happened during a conversation about how I didn't want to be forced to pretend what other people cared about at my job/school. What their interests were. I didn't want to pretend (there's that word again) to be interested in someone's conversation/life. He gave me that 'all you do is complain' look and told me I was in "the wrong field, honey." Well fuck you very much and your snide attitude. Before letting me give him my look of annoyance, he spat "It's called a JOB!" REALLY? I'm supposed to endure hours upon hours of mental suffering and shut up and be happy about it because that's my job? Because that's life? I refuse to settle with that explanation.
And why can't I complain? Because it's annoying? Fuck you, fat people are annoying. Wanting something more, something better for yourself, for your life, it's an instinct. An instinct most people ignore or choose to forget about along this dull and dirty highway we call life.
XXX
Miranda
I don't feel like this one is finished.. But I'm sure I'll forget about it within the next couple of hours. So I've chosen to post it now.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Chip on My Shoulder
Hello old friend
I've picked up a bad habit. I'll write a few paragraphs and fail to finish the whole post, much less publish the damn thing. So as to prove that I HAVE been writing (a little) I will publish them now. (Or copy and paste them.)
"I hope I start my period soon because I am in a BAD. MOOD.
I'm sitting here in a foul state of mind, watching one of the three Will Smith movies currently on the television, drinking a self poured margarita and the first thing I think of (besides how I wished my drink was one shot stronger) is: this is a perfect time to blog.
When your boyfriend is the happiest man you've ever encountered, so happy he has "Love Life" tattooed on his hands, you get to feeling rather guilty for always hating the world. Which in turn makes you feel like an even bigger pile of shit.
We've currently been dating almost two months and for a majority of the time I've been in an extremely good mood. But I am now starting to think that maybe MY good mood is HIS bad mood. It's starting to pose as an obstacle in our relationship. I'm beginning to feel like I'm just too negative a person. And I've always found my pessimism my strong suit. HENCE aformentioned post. Don't get me wrong, I love my man to pieces, I've never been more comfortable in a relationship (I fart infront of him for Christ's sake"
Now, with that one.. I believe I was starting to complain (weird) about the first time my boyfriend got upset at me. For being "POUTY" something he still hasn't gotten used to.
"I almost died. AGAIN
If anyone of you read my previous blog, (which I'm assuming you haven't, nobody did) you would know that this past summer I almost drowned on my first rafting trip. It was more of a.. 'floating down a calm river ON a raft' type of trip.. but that shit had some serious under current, so it's the same thing. Well this time, this time I got hit by a car. I GOT HIT BY A FUCKING CAR.
I had just gotten out of school, returned a RedBox movie (Scott Pilgrim vs. The World) at the grocery store then got on my bike, turned left out of the parking lot and started cruising down the hill. Some bitch at the bottom of the hill pulled a California Roll and.. we collided. The right side of my body and FACE slammed onto the windshield, I bounced off and hit the back of my head on the hood, then flew off the car and landed on the road. Nearly getting ran over by oncoming traffic.
The only thing I remember is thinking 'I hope my ipod is ok' and looking at the scattered pieces that once belonged to my phone and wondering how I was going to call my boyfriend to come pick me up. The woman who hit me came running over, along with a few other bystanders, and wouldn't let me get up or move my neck. My attempted murderer called my boyfriend for me while about 15 cops and firemen strapped me onto a big piece of plastic."
That one's obvious. I got hit by a car. Fine now. I could benefit from a prescription though.
XXX
Miranda
I've picked up a bad habit. I'll write a few paragraphs and fail to finish the whole post, much less publish the damn thing. So as to prove that I HAVE been writing (a little) I will publish them now. (Or copy and paste them.)
"I hope I start my period soon because I am in a BAD. MOOD.
I'm sitting here in a foul state of mind, watching one of the three Will Smith movies currently on the television, drinking a self poured margarita and the first thing I think of (besides how I wished my drink was one shot stronger) is: this is a perfect time to blog.
When your boyfriend is the happiest man you've ever encountered, so happy he has "Love Life" tattooed on his hands, you get to feeling rather guilty for always hating the world. Which in turn makes you feel like an even bigger pile of shit.
We've currently been dating almost two months and for a majority of the time I've been in an extremely good mood. But I am now starting to think that maybe MY good mood is HIS bad mood. It's starting to pose as an obstacle in our relationship. I'm beginning to feel like I'm just too negative a person. And I've always found my pessimism my strong suit. HENCE aformentioned post. Don't get me wrong, I love my man to pieces, I've never been more comfortable in a relationship (I fart infront of him for Christ's sake"
Now, with that one.. I believe I was starting to complain (weird) about the first time my boyfriend got upset at me. For being "POUTY" something he still hasn't gotten used to.
"I almost died. AGAIN
If anyone of you read my previous blog, (which I'm assuming you haven't, nobody did) you would know that this past summer I almost drowned on my first rafting trip. It was more of a.. 'floating down a calm river ON a raft' type of trip.. but that shit had some serious under current, so it's the same thing. Well this time, this time I got hit by a car. I GOT HIT BY A FUCKING CAR.
I had just gotten out of school, returned a RedBox movie (Scott Pilgrim vs. The World) at the grocery store then got on my bike, turned left out of the parking lot and started cruising down the hill. Some bitch at the bottom of the hill pulled a California Roll and.. we collided. The right side of my body and FACE slammed onto the windshield, I bounced off and hit the back of my head on the hood, then flew off the car and landed on the road. Nearly getting ran over by oncoming traffic.
The only thing I remember is thinking 'I hope my ipod is ok' and looking at the scattered pieces that once belonged to my phone and wondering how I was going to call my boyfriend to come pick me up. The woman who hit me came running over, along with a few other bystanders, and wouldn't let me get up or move my neck. My attempted murderer called my boyfriend for me while about 15 cops and firemen strapped me onto a big piece of plastic."
That one's obvious. I got hit by a car. Fine now. I could benefit from a prescription though.
XXX
Miranda
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
CaliFORNICATEing
Haha look what I wrote a couple weeks ago..
.....................................
Long gone are the days of my inane need to dwell on the past, only to be replaced by an abundance of curiosity for the future.
A wise woman once accused me of choosing to be miserable. Saying I enjoyed being morose, dejected, despondent. Always hopeless. To despise myself and hate all those around me. Well grandmother, it seems you do have insight into the gloom that is me. I admit that I do have a tendency to see The Cup as completely empty, isn't it easier to be alone? Disappointment weighs on me so heavily that I try to avoid human interaction as much as possible..
In retrospect, my tendency toward alienation was and is the sole cause of my self deprecation. All I've ever known has been self loathing and apathy, so now that I'm finally happy, I keep finding myself questioning my actions.
"Is this real?"
Don't underestimate my eternal hate for a majority of the human race, I've still got some spite in me yet.
..............................................
Hahaha I clearly never got around to finishing it, but the intention to keep on with my writing is still there. WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?! Sounds like I was starting to get all 'deep' and shit. Didn't I used to be funny? (Depending on who you ask.) I miss writing about the people I meet that make me miserable. I miss writing about all the unbelievable situations I situate myself into.
Looking back at previous posts has really made me miss writing (complaining), whether my writing is worth reading or not, I don't care anymore.. it's a hobby I enjoy and I plan on starting back up again on a regular basis. First I have to convince my boyfriend to let me keep my legs closed for at least an hour while we're home.
XXX
Miranda
.....................................
Long gone are the days of my inane need to dwell on the past, only to be replaced by an abundance of curiosity for the future.
A wise woman once accused me of choosing to be miserable. Saying I enjoyed being morose, dejected, despondent. Always hopeless. To despise myself and hate all those around me. Well grandmother, it seems you do have insight into the gloom that is me. I admit that I do have a tendency to see The Cup as completely empty, isn't it easier to be alone? Disappointment weighs on me so heavily that I try to avoid human interaction as much as possible..
In retrospect, my tendency toward alienation was and is the sole cause of my self deprecation. All I've ever known has been self loathing and apathy, so now that I'm finally happy, I keep finding myself questioning my actions.
"Is this real?"
Don't underestimate my eternal hate for a majority of the human race, I've still got some spite in me yet.
..............................................
Hahaha I clearly never got around to finishing it, but the intention to keep on with my writing is still there. WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?! Sounds like I was starting to get all 'deep' and shit. Didn't I used to be funny? (Depending on who you ask.) I miss writing about the people I meet that make me miserable. I miss writing about all the unbelievable situations I situate myself into.
Looking back at previous posts has really made me miss writing (complaining), whether my writing is worth reading or not, I don't care anymore.. it's a hobby I enjoy and I plan on starting back up again on a regular basis. First I have to convince my boyfriend to let me keep my legs closed for at least an hour while we're home.
XXX
Miranda
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Especial
Here's the deal dummies
The only time I ever seem to write anything worth reading is when I'm extremely butt hurt (hurt, not sore) about either boys or booze. Neither of which I'm currently having any problems with. For the first time in over a year. I make out with my boyfriend, watch horror movies and drink margaritas by the beach every night. I've nothing to complain about. I just can't help but notice that a few of my friends seem to have an issue with my surprise encounter with pure bliss.
"You can't write worth shit anymore." "Write something humorous and sadonic NOW." "You need to write more." "You're losing it... You lost it.."
WRITE! WRITE! WOOOMP WOOOMP.
What the fuck ever dudes. Maybe if my best friend wasn't constantly texting me, saying how bad I suck,.. that it's only all down hill from here.. well maybe THEN I'd actually WANT to write again. (Kelly James Mullinix, this one's for you.)
Which would you like to hear about first? Would you like for me to talk about the fact that the fucking loser I fucked a few months back wants to hang out again now that I'm dating someone? (Nice try buddy, I'm far from over it. Why is it we only want what we can't have?) Or shall we discuss the 87 year old feet that I'm forced to give pedicures to only a bi weekly basis? The later shall we? The state of California thinks that you should know how to give a fucking mani pedi if you want to cut hair for a living. They also want you to know how to give facials and wax the mustache off of 42 year old single women. (And sometimes their chin.) Give me a hairy back or wannabe 70s porn star vagina to wax anyday. PLEASE give me a vagina to wax. Taint, balls, whatevssss. Waxing anything would be better than giving a pedicure to the feet of an 80 year old.
Sure the conversations you have while giving pedicures and manicures are extremely entertaining, but they don't make up for the fact that I permenantly smell like an old woman's feet. Even after I've showered twice. Do you know that smell? The smell of death? It's vomit inducing.
On a side note, my son is going through momma withdrawals. I've been home about three times in the past two weeks, and even then it's only been for a limited time (to switch out clothes from my overnight bag) so my cat has decided to shit everywhere. Yes, my grandmother picks it up.. but all she does is throw it in the toilet. And doesn't flush. So lucky me, I get to come home to a toilet full of cat shit. Can you make sense of the fact that she doesn't flush after she tosses poop in my toilet? I can't!
I hope I don't make it past 63. Geriatrics. FUUUUCK.
XXXO
Miranda
The only time I ever seem to write anything worth reading is when I'm extremely butt hurt (hurt, not sore) about either boys or booze. Neither of which I'm currently having any problems with. For the first time in over a year. I make out with my boyfriend, watch horror movies and drink margaritas by the beach every night. I've nothing to complain about. I just can't help but notice that a few of my friends seem to have an issue with my surprise encounter with pure bliss.
"You can't write worth shit anymore." "Write something humorous and sadonic NOW." "You need to write more." "You're losing it... You lost it.."
WRITE! WRITE! WOOOMP WOOOMP.
What the fuck ever dudes. Maybe if my best friend wasn't constantly texting me, saying how bad I suck,.. that it's only all down hill from here.. well maybe THEN I'd actually WANT to write again. (Kelly James Mullinix, this one's for you.)
Which would you like to hear about first? Would you like for me to talk about the fact that the fucking loser I fucked a few months back wants to hang out again now that I'm dating someone? (Nice try buddy, I'm far from over it. Why is it we only want what we can't have?) Or shall we discuss the 87 year old feet that I'm forced to give pedicures to only a bi weekly basis? The later shall we? The state of California thinks that you should know how to give a fucking mani pedi if you want to cut hair for a living. They also want you to know how to give facials and wax the mustache off of 42 year old single women. (And sometimes their chin.) Give me a hairy back or wannabe 70s porn star vagina to wax anyday. PLEASE give me a vagina to wax. Taint, balls, whatevssss. Waxing anything would be better than giving a pedicure to the feet of an 80 year old.
Sure the conversations you have while giving pedicures and manicures are extremely entertaining, but they don't make up for the fact that I permenantly smell like an old woman's feet. Even after I've showered twice. Do you know that smell? The smell of death? It's vomit inducing.
On a side note, my son is going through momma withdrawals. I've been home about three times in the past two weeks, and even then it's only been for a limited time (to switch out clothes from my overnight bag) so my cat has decided to shit everywhere. Yes, my grandmother picks it up.. but all she does is throw it in the toilet. And doesn't flush. So lucky me, I get to come home to a toilet full of cat shit. Can you make sense of the fact that she doesn't flush after she tosses poop in my toilet? I can't!
I hope I don't make it past 63. Geriatrics. FUUUUCK.
XXXO
Miranda
Monday, November 1, 2010
SWF
I kissed a boy and I liked it.
I suppose in this case you'd call him a MAN though. (Yes, the man that is older than my mother.) But he's immature so that makes him more like 35. I haven't been posting lately because of him. I just can't get enough! We have a routine. I go to school then I head over to work, and once I'm off, he gets me off. That doesn't really leave anytime for me to lurk around my blogging spot in hopes of seeing 'That Guy.' Who I'm completely over by the way. I pretty much just realized how big of a tool he was and something just clicked. (HE WAS A COMPLETE WASTE OF TIME)
My new beau and I have been hanging out everyday for the past week. Which is going to make moving back to Portland somewhat difficult. I finally found a guy that didn't get back together with his ex WIFE the day after we sealed the deal and who also refuses to let me pay for anything. Tall, pale, extremely creepy and old. I may have just scored me a keeper. Oddly enough the same thing happened to me in Portland before I moved to Pismo. A month before I moved I started hanging out with this guy Richard. He turned out to be amazing but I had already notified my job and apartment building of my plans to depart so I wasn't able to stay.
I was really hoping this wouldn't happen again. Everything seems to be falling into place for both my options. I'm finally enjoying school, I've made a few more friends and I think I might be kind of dating someone.. but my girlfriend also just sent me some money to help me move back and I just got a call from someone who said I can live in his condo for free while he lives in Texas for the next year. I really hate making decisions. I just want someone to force me to do something.
What do I do when the pros and cons of staying weigh each other out?
However, I'm thinking my biggest problem is not being able to write for shit! If you made it this far I applaud you. My writing is the pits and for this I apologize. I just need to get my groove back. Where's Stella? I've got some questions to ask that woman.
XXXO
Miranda
I suppose in this case you'd call him a MAN though. (Yes, the man that is older than my mother.) But he's immature so that makes him more like 35. I haven't been posting lately because of him. I just can't get enough! We have a routine. I go to school then I head over to work, and once I'm off, he gets me off. That doesn't really leave anytime for me to lurk around my blogging spot in hopes of seeing 'That Guy.' Who I'm completely over by the way. I pretty much just realized how big of a tool he was and something just clicked. (HE WAS A COMPLETE WASTE OF TIME)
My new beau and I have been hanging out everyday for the past week. Which is going to make moving back to Portland somewhat difficult. I finally found a guy that didn't get back together with his ex WIFE the day after we sealed the deal and who also refuses to let me pay for anything. Tall, pale, extremely creepy and old. I may have just scored me a keeper. Oddly enough the same thing happened to me in Portland before I moved to Pismo. A month before I moved I started hanging out with this guy Richard. He turned out to be amazing but I had already notified my job and apartment building of my plans to depart so I wasn't able to stay.
I was really hoping this wouldn't happen again. Everything seems to be falling into place for both my options. I'm finally enjoying school, I've made a few more friends and I think I might be kind of dating someone.. but my girlfriend also just sent me some money to help me move back and I just got a call from someone who said I can live in his condo for free while he lives in Texas for the next year. I really hate making decisions. I just want someone to force me to do something.
What do I do when the pros and cons of staying weigh each other out?
However, I'm thinking my biggest problem is not being able to write for shit! If you made it this far I applaud you. My writing is the pits and for this I apologize. I just need to get my groove back. Where's Stella? I've got some questions to ask that woman.
XXXO
Miranda
ALSO:
I would like for you to look closely at the picture I'm about to post..
You see that body? That's what I've been having sex with. Minus Brad Pitt's face. I think you all should be jealous now. (I suppose that's one area in which I was able to maintain my infamous 'groove.')
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Homeward Bound
My financial aid definately isn't going to get approved.
Not for 6 months at least. Yesterday I talked to those lame financial aid people and since I'm poor and let my loan go into 'default' my credit is balls and until I make 6 months of consecutive payments on my loan, I won't get approved. I'm not surprised in the least. This is what back up plans are for. Mine being drop out of beauty school.
I'm seriously going to drop out of beauty school. (SERIOUSLY.) At first I thought 'oh, haha what if I end up dropping out of beauty school? How funny would that be?!' HAAAA. Not so much. I wanted to prove some shit and be all.. yeah I can do it, I'm strong. NOT. I am the weakest person I know. If I'm in a difficult position I run, if not, I create an obstacle in which I can't overcome, just so I can run away from it. (Input anyone?)
I'm sure that staying here and making it through school would be the 'best thing' for me, but it's not what's going to make me happy. Granted, I currently have no idea what's going to make me feel content in the long run. I don't even know what's going to make me feel happy tomorrow.. but now I DO know that if I ever discover what's going to satisfy me in life, I want to be in Portland when I find it all out. Forever I've tried to deny my roots, but I AM a Portland girl.
I dread the day that I'm forced to confront my grandmother about this whole situation. I almost want to pack up in the dead of the night and leave when she's on one of her daily runs to the bead store. Maybe I'll leave a note reading "It was easier for me this way."
I want to move home no later than November 13th. It is a rather soon date, but I'd love to be back before Thanksgiving. My little sister is coming home one last time before she ships out to The Middle East and I want to be there so we can bond.. hopefully get a corny 'sister' tattoo. October/November weather is also my absolute favorite. Apple cider in the wee hours of the morning, your breath visible in the brisk AM air and the sidewalks plastered with fallen leaves of all colors. Peacoats, scarves and Starbucks, MMM. (An incredibly Portland thing of me to confess.) Are people saying that now? (A "Portland thing"...?)
I will go back to beauty school once my financial aid is approved. I finally found something that I would be satisfied doing as a career. Something I actually like participating in. I'm not going to give that up. Not now. I just have to make more sacrifices. I'm completely willing. Just not in this town.
I WANT IT ALL! I NEED IT ALL!
XXXO
Miranda
Not for 6 months at least. Yesterday I talked to those lame financial aid people and since I'm poor and let my loan go into 'default' my credit is balls and until I make 6 months of consecutive payments on my loan, I won't get approved. I'm not surprised in the least. This is what back up plans are for. Mine being drop out of beauty school.
I'm seriously going to drop out of beauty school. (SERIOUSLY.) At first I thought 'oh, haha what if I end up dropping out of beauty school? How funny would that be?!' HAAAA. Not so much. I wanted to prove some shit and be all.. yeah I can do it, I'm strong. NOT. I am the weakest person I know. If I'm in a difficult position I run, if not, I create an obstacle in which I can't overcome, just so I can run away from it. (Input anyone?)
I'm sure that staying here and making it through school would be the 'best thing' for me, but it's not what's going to make me happy. Granted, I currently have no idea what's going to make me feel content in the long run. I don't even know what's going to make me feel happy tomorrow.. but now I DO know that if I ever discover what's going to satisfy me in life, I want to be in Portland when I find it all out. Forever I've tried to deny my roots, but I AM a Portland girl.
I dread the day that I'm forced to confront my grandmother about this whole situation. I almost want to pack up in the dead of the night and leave when she's on one of her daily runs to the bead store. Maybe I'll leave a note reading "It was easier for me this way."
I want to move home no later than November 13th. It is a rather soon date, but I'd love to be back before Thanksgiving. My little sister is coming home one last time before she ships out to The Middle East and I want to be there so we can bond.. hopefully get a corny 'sister' tattoo. October/November weather is also my absolute favorite. Apple cider in the wee hours of the morning, your breath visible in the brisk AM air and the sidewalks plastered with fallen leaves of all colors. Peacoats, scarves and Starbucks, MMM. (An incredibly Portland thing of me to confess.) Are people saying that now? (A "Portland thing"...?)
I will go back to beauty school once my financial aid is approved. I finally found something that I would be satisfied doing as a career. Something I actually like participating in. I'm not going to give that up. Not now. I just have to make more sacrifices. I'm completely willing. Just not in this town.
I WANT IT ALL! I NEED IT ALL!
XXXO
Miranda
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Misery Business
My magic 8 ball was right. Outlook not so good.
In the past week I've talked to the admissions advisor from the school I was looking to transfer to and she informed me that the cost would be $20,000. Not $7,500 like I had originally thought. TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS. For beauty school. I didn't have a positive outlook on this whole situation to begin with. Now I fear I've lost all hope. If my financial aid application even IS approved it still wouldn't cover the entire cost of tuition. I already owe $12,000 on a loan for my first attempt at community college at the age of eighteen, I hiiiighly doubt I would be granted another.
I haven't completely given up, however. Not until I receive their final answer.. but even if I don't get approved for the grant.. I'm still going to move back. Yes nerds, I am on the brink of becoming a beauty school dropout. I can't stay here! I fear for my health. My mentality is already shot, but I've still got some remaining physical aspect to worry about here. I've still got a badunk a DUNK that I need to maintain. My sex muscles are mush! Help a (freaky, dtf, down with whatever) sista (or is it sister?) out. Anyone? ...anyone?..
Yesterday the mail man did deliver a package to my house which was actually addressed to me for once! (Insert obvious sexual reference here..) My friend Jaxun surprised me and sent a package full of Crystal's Louisiana Hot Sauce, (MY FAVORITE THING EVER!!!!) along with a wonderful letter which, I'll admit, made me cry. For some reason I took my Portland friends for granted. I didn't even think I had any friends while I lived there. Well I finally realized that I did, and thankfully I still do. I guess it just took a lot of misery to make me realize how good I actually had it, and how much I'd give to have it all back.
Not to be outdone by Jaxun, my best friend Allie sent me a package a month ago FULL of my favorite things. A shark towel, Essie nail polish, hand sanitizer, an Anthropologie candle, a bag
full of glitter skulls, shark chopsticks, spider stickers, a monogram necklace,... funny enough, my special box of goodies arrived on HER birthday. Love you Alyse!
My homewrecking days are also over.. (almost.) I went on a 'date' with a new guy! It's only natural that he's 42 (older than my mother) and his daughter is 2 years younger than me. To the DAY. I randomely ask him out (weird) he obliged and we went and played pool, drank some beer and then smoked a doobie under a lifeguard tower on the beach. For a first date.. pretty rad. Considering my only other option is a guy that I only ever remember having sex with thanks to drunken flashbacks, and who also has a girlfriend and just did a 'drive by' to see if I was at the bar.. I'd say this new baby daddy is top o the liiine.
Once these six beers wear off I'm sure I'll continue feeling sorry for myself. More than I currently do anyway.
I'd love some company.
XXXO
Miranda
In the past week I've talked to the admissions advisor from the school I was looking to transfer to and she informed me that the cost would be $20,000. Not $7,500 like I had originally thought. TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS. For beauty school. I didn't have a positive outlook on this whole situation to begin with. Now I fear I've lost all hope. If my financial aid application even IS approved it still wouldn't cover the entire cost of tuition. I already owe $12,000 on a loan for my first attempt at community college at the age of eighteen, I hiiiighly doubt I would be granted another.
I haven't completely given up, however. Not until I receive their final answer.. but even if I don't get approved for the grant.. I'm still going to move back. Yes nerds, I am on the brink of becoming a beauty school dropout. I can't stay here! I fear for my health. My mentality is already shot, but I've still got some remaining physical aspect to worry about here. I've still got a badunk a DUNK that I need to maintain. My sex muscles are mush! Help a (freaky, dtf, down with whatever) sista (or is it sister?) out. Anyone? ...anyone?..
Yesterday the mail man did deliver a package to my house which was actually addressed to me for once! (Insert obvious sexual reference here..) My friend Jaxun surprised me and sent a package full of Crystal's Louisiana Hot Sauce, (MY FAVORITE THING EVER!!!!) along with a wonderful letter which, I'll admit, made me cry. For some reason I took my Portland friends for granted. I didn't even think I had any friends while I lived there. Well I finally realized that I did, and thankfully I still do. I guess it just took a lot of misery to make me realize how good I actually had it, and how much I'd give to have it all back.
Not to be outdone by Jaxun, my best friend Allie sent me a package a month ago FULL of my favorite things. A shark towel, Essie nail polish, hand sanitizer, an Anthropologie candle, a bag
full of glitter skulls, shark chopsticks, spider stickers, a monogram necklace,... funny enough, my special box of goodies arrived on HER birthday. Love you Alyse!
My homewrecking days are also over.. (almost.) I went on a 'date' with a new guy! It's only natural that he's 42 (older than my mother) and his daughter is 2 years younger than me. To the DAY. I randomely ask him out (weird) he obliged and we went and played pool, drank some beer and then smoked a doobie under a lifeguard tower on the beach. For a first date.. pretty rad. Considering my only other option is a guy that I only ever remember having sex with thanks to drunken flashbacks, and who also has a girlfriend and just did a 'drive by' to see if I was at the bar.. I'd say this new baby daddy is top o the liiine.
Once these six beers wear off I'm sure I'll continue feeling sorry for myself. More than I currently do anyway.
I'd love some company.
XXXO
Miranda
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