The womb It's Cavernous.

If people forget my birthday. The only person who I’d blame for forgetting my birthday is my mom, but that is because it marks the anniversary of me being released from her womb. But seriously I don’t care if people forget. I really don’t view it as a reflection of how much anyone likes me. I mean, I don’t mind when people remember. Getting a call from someone unexpected to wish me a happy birthday is always nice. But I don’t need seven million people saying “happy birthday” to me all the goddamned day long to actually have a joyous birthday. This year on March 30^th people I usually never speak to said “happy birthday” to me. And I was like: “Really? When I say happy birthday to someone I genuinely want them to have a happy birthday.” Like if it’s my best friend’s birthday, I really care about his or her joy and happiness and saying ‘happy birthday’ to them comes with a promise that I will do everything in my power to make his or her birthday happy. But like, I’m not a liar and I won’t say it to someone whose birthday happiness means nothing to me. This year, I took my birthday off of Facebook because I didn’t want it all over the internet. I wanted it to go by unnoticed like a thief in the night. Whenever someone would say happy birthday too vociferously in a public setting I would want to be like: “Shut up! Shhhh!” But instead I would just smile uncomfortably and hope for no one to notice. But everyone kept posting all over my fucking wall like: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOOBOO!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! OMG LUV U!!! XOXOXOXO!” As much as I love attention, I secretly wanted to pulverize every post concerning my birthday but like that would make me such an anti-social prick.


It’s just sometimes social conventions are so incredibly stupid to me. Like why do we feel the need to say “hi” and “bye” when we arrive and leave? If I walk up to a group of my friends, assuming that they haven’t lost any senses since the last time I saw them, there is no logical reason I should have to say “hi” and greet everyone instead of just immediately entering the conversation. I would much prefer to just discreetly attach myself to a group of people without the whole ceremony of being like: “HELLO EVERYONE. I’M JUST ANNOUNCING THAT I HAVE ARRIVED, IN CASE YOUR EYEBALLS DIDN’T DETECT MY SIX AND A HALF FEET OF EXISTENCE.” The same goes for saying goodbye. Oftentimes in social gatherings I will decide that it is time for me to leave and have to complete the tedious task of saying all of my goodbyes, like I was going on a fucking death-mission to Guatemala or some shit. I like to lop them all into one, saying a blanket “bye guys” and then making away. But to be honest, even that is too much of a pain in the ass for me sometimes. During my time in Montreal, I have perfected the art of bailing without saying a word. I just leave. And people know that I’m not dead and that I still like them so in the end it doesn’t really matter whether or not I’m like: “Oh my godddddd I looveeee youuuuuuuuuu weeee neeeeeedd ttooooo hannnggg oooutttt sooon!!!! This is so hard for me! OMG MORE LOVE THAN JESUS!!! BYEEE!!!!”

But there are plenty of weird customs that I abide by (presents on Jesus’ birthday, for example) so as much as I like to question and criticize them, it would make me the biggest hypocrite ever to breach any without breaching absolutely all of them.

wickedwiles:

• has anybody written on my wall?
• no. i guess that makes sense it’s 3:01 am.
• .
• .
• 3:04 pm.
• how bout now?

i dont know what i’m expecting it’s not like anyone writes on my wall during normal daytime hours either.

YES.

Did someone say “I’m fucked?” Oh wait! That was me!

I’m playing hard to get, but it’s hard ‘cos I’m getting hard as it gets and I want to play.

I think Drake’s music is absolutely terrible except for the song November 18th. Like seriously so terrible. When his music comes on I’m like: “Please no… please somebody turn this off. Please when can this song end so I can stop pretending that I wouldn’t rather die than be listening to this right now?” And he’s not cute… his beard grows too far up his face. I really don’t understand why he’s famous… his music is whiny. 

Also I don’t care for cats or cat videos. Or cute kitty cat memes. I wouldn’t mind a 99% scaling back of all the fucking cat footage on the internet. Everytime I see a cat video / picture I’m like: OH WOW CATS DO SILLY THINGS?!!!?!?!? NO FUCKING WAY!11!!! THE NOVELTY COULD NEVER POSSIBLY WEAR OFF!!1!!!1!

And like I also think it’s so. weird. that it’s trendy to like cats these days. Like who the fuck came up with that? Imagine trying to explain that to someone in the Middle Ages. You’d be like: “Well, Phineas, in the future it’s going to be considered extremely fun to crowd around a 5 x 3 inch screen with all your friends and watch videos of cats playing with string or some insipid shit like that.” And then Phineas would be like: “Umm… five of my family members just dropped dead of the black plague while you were telling me about a video of someone’s house pet. Maybe you should consider getting your lame-o priorities straight.”

Liking Harry Potter (vociferously) is NOT. CUTE. No one is like: “OMG THAT PERSON IS SO FUCKING FUN AND QUIRKY BECAUSE SHE LIKES HARRY POTTER!” They’re like: “Dude… watch out for that weird Harry Potter girl. Definitely don’t touch her hands because I’ve heard she spends lunch in a tree picking her boogers.” Oh and same goes for hating Justin Bieber and Twilight. It is so insanely easy to totally avoid both of those things. It’s not funny to hate them because there is no reason to hate them. Okay, they’re both kinda lame, totally granted. But it’s like A MILLION times more lame to waste your time and passion hating them for being lame. Why waste time hating Justin Bieber when you could hate Drake for literally being the worst thing ever? And frankly neither Justin Bieber nor Twilight is particularly bad. Edward is cute and “Baby” was infectiously catchy, plus Bieber has really uncommonly great hair.

I wanna say like 85% of my tumblr dashboard is garbage that’s offensive to my eyes. Step up your game, guys… Reblog better. 

In the new era of 9gag and tumblr and memes and ragetoons, April Fool’s Day should really be renamed The Troll Roll.

The guy sitting in front of me at the library just burped really loud and then totally pretended like nothing even happened. Bitch don’t try ‘n’ front like I dinnt juss smell yo lunch over hurr. Oh my god and I swear he just picked a crust from behind his ear and popped it like a Tostino’s pizza roll. Poor guy has no idea that he is being quietly observed and documented… I won’t name names but… turquoise teeshirt ;) [By the way, is it pronounced turquoise as in turk-oys or as in turr-kwaaz? I would look up the phonetic transcription on Wikipedia but you’ll find out soon enough why I’m unable to read it.]

Also a girl just passed me wearing shoes with teddy bears hanging off the front.

Is this really what my apparent “day-long study marathon” has become? Pedestrian contemplation and people watching? 

The answer is yes because this stack of Jews in Poland readings is daunting and it’s far enough into the semester that I’m kiiiiiinda starting not to care. I know right well that I should care (A LOT) because my F in linguistics last semester left an oozing blemish on my transcripts and that I’m working for redemption rather than good grades, but it’s hard to work for redemption when your failure was so silent.

In other words, if my failure last semester had been boisterous (had had immediate effects) I would’ve surely worked really hard this semester to do immediate and tangible damage control. But since the effects of my F are delayed (I won’t really know the girth of the damage done until I apply to grad school) my damage control is suppose’d (I’m assuming that no schools will have me unless I follow an F with four gleaming A’s.) But it’s really hard to give a fuck about hypothetical consequences when you’re doing the most boring work in the world to avoid them. But let’s be real, it’s never fun to do something when it’s mandatory. If all I had to do to negate this F was eat melted cheese and slide my penis into things, I’d still whine (and cheese!) about it. 

Anyways… now that I’ve pissed away a half-hour of precious study time on tumblr it’s time to grab the bull by its balls (or, as the Jews of Eastern Europe would say, grab the bik by its beytse) and get to work. You’re likely to hear more from me in the next fifteen to twenty minutes seconds.