Naked Head

Let's start by saying that the title Naked Head sounds sexual. Moving on.

I cut all my hair off.

It's gone.... Granted, it wasn't too long to begin with. It was to my collar bone. Now it's to.... Nothing.

Seriously. It's fucking short.

I don't know if I can handle this. I thought I could, but I can't. I have disappointed myself.

I honestly don't know what I was thinking. I've thought about chopping it off before, but always had the sense to NOT do it. Something came over me yesterday. And then all of a sudden, I was in the salon, watching as the stylist massacred my hair and threw it on the tiled floor.

It was horrific, and violent.

I am just very very happy that hair grows back. Because otherwise, I would look like a manly woman/lesbian forever. Which would suck, considering I'm neither of those things.

Now please excuse me while I cry.

Desperate Facebookers

"I just want someone to cuddle me."

"I just want a guy/girl who treats me right."

"I just want someone who loves me for who I am."

"I play video games, OMG I need a boyfriend who will play with me."

"I'll treat a girl good."

Fucking. Stop.

I cannot tell you how many times I have seen posts like these on Facebook lately, and to those who are posting them, here is a news flash. You look fucking desperate.

Stop.

You want someone to come cuddle you or be your boyfriend? How about you go out and meet someone, instead of hoping and praying that they'll see your status and come running in their shining armor?

Yes, everyone wants certain things, and has standards for what they want in a relationship, but posting that on Facebook is not how you find someone who is going to have the qualities you're looking for. Like I said, it only makes you look desperate.

Speaking from my own personal view, when I was single and saw boys posts things like that, it made them seem desperate and clingy. I want someone who is independent, who is ok being single, but wouldn't mind meeting someone if they did. They aren't advertising the fact that they can't handle being alone. They are living their own life, and they are happy about that, regardless of whether they're single or not.

Those are the guys that caught my attention.

And ladies, I've talked to more than one guy that said the same thing. Stop looking for a relationship, and be happy being independent. That is when you'll find someone.

And you know what? The same goes for all those stupid fucking pictures people post. "I just want a relationship where we're happy" over an ocean background. What? Stop. Posting pictures on fucking Facebook isn't gonna get you there, honey. How about you try going out and meeting people?

I don't mean to be rude, and I know how hard it is to find someone worth while in the times we live in. But I can tell you now it's gonna be a hell of a lot easier if you start looking outside of your group of Facebook friends.

Pepsi of the Gods

Have you ever been struck with fear so horrific that you couldn't move? You just had to stand there, watching your fate unfold before your eyes, while you were helpless to stop it?

That just happened to me. And now, it's story time.

I was sitting at my desk at work, reading a book, answering calls, and just going about my normal day when I was consumed with a thirst so bad, that I had no choice but to get up to go get a drink.

So I did.

I walked across the sea of cubicles and around a scary corner to the break room. We have vending machines with snacks and such, but I had my eyes on a special prize... Pepsi.

I was so thirsty. I patted my pockets, making sure I'd remembered my money. No worries, I had. I took out $1.25, which, in my opinion at the moment, was a perfectly reasonable price, considering the fact I felt like someone had blow-dried my mouth. With a blow dryer. Let's not be dirty.

So I put my money in the machine and pressed the button. B5 was my selection. So the little lever that was holding the drink in place pulled back and.... It didn't move. The entire fucking row of Pepsi just say there, as if to say, "Nah we're cool in our little row here. Move along."

But I couldn't just move along. I had given the machine my money. I had paid for this drink, and dammit I was going to get it.

So I knocked on the glass.

I didn't know what else to do. I don't have the strength to wiggle the entire machine because I'm still crippled from my surgery. So I just sat there, knocking on the glass as if the doors of heaven would just open up, and the Pepsi would come floating down on a cloud.

Obviously, this didn't happen. What the fuck.

At this point I'm desperate. I just want my fucking drink! So I slowly turned around to face the cubicles that some fucktard had decided should be set up in the lunch room. Who does that? Really though, I shouldn't complain, considering the fucktard in charge of this practically saved my life.

So I called over to the cubicles. "Has anyone gotten their drink stuck in the machine before?"

Immediately, 3 of the guys that work there pop their heads up, and walk over.

Once they got there, they evaluated the situation. There was a chance that, after shaking the machine, it would release a different drink, or, god forbid, push the Pepsi back into the machine, where it would be lost forever. Please no...

I took my chances, and told them to shake it.

Slowly, they tipped the machine, and then aggressively they shook it. I watched, anxious, as they attempted to save my from a life of dehydration.

The Pepsi dropped.

I may or may not have screamed, because I was so excited.

As I walked away, I heard one of them say, "the soda machine bows to me."

I couldn't agree more.

Here Comes Adulthood

The air is heating up. Everyone is turning on the A/C and pulling their shorts out from the bottom of the Pants Pile. Do you know what this means?

Graduation season.



I'm still young enough that I have friends, and the siblings of friends, who are graduating from high school this year. Everyone is so excited, posting things on Facebook like "OMG only 7 days until freedom!" Who can blame them? Who doesn't remember counting down the days until you were free of high school? We were all so excited, anticipating the best for our lives, thinking we would go somewhere and do something important. But to those of you who are graduating, do not let these emotions fool you.

We were so cute..





This blog is a warning.

DO NOT GRADUATE HIGH SCHOOL.

You think it's going to be all fun and games. Some of you will go off to college, some of you will be getting your first job. While everyone offers you well wishes and congratulations, I only say that I am sorry.

Adulthood fucking sucks.



Now, I'm sure it's not so bad for those of you who will stay at home for as long as you can, but eventually, it will catch up to you.

You go from eating moms chicken every night, to wondering how many dimes you'll have to scrounge up to buy a box of Ramen from your local Wal-Mart.



You think the drama ends? Think again. It only gets worse. It changes. It goes from hating the girl who 'stole' your boyfriend, to hating the girl who stole your job. Instead of deciding on which boy to say 'Yes' to for the prom, you're stuck deciding which dating site to use where you're just so positive that no one you know will be on there. Until all the nerdy guys you went to school with start chatting you up and asking you to drinks, and you start to wonder if you're really that desperate.

You stalk the Facebook pages of all your former classmates, and wonder how they did so well for themselves, while you're stuck in a black hole of despair, loneliness and poverty.

You gain weight. Yes, my friends, your metabolism really does slow down. Your diet of Ramen doesn't help, nor does the fact that you're too fucking poor to afford a gym pass. What happened to those size 2 jeans, and where did this ass come from?

Eventually, things look up. After an exhausting semester (or eight) of college, you find out that, once again, you're graduating. This, my friends, is when the fun starts.

Unfortunately it takes a while to get there. You get stuck. You're too poor for a semester, so you have to delay your schooling, unless you can get that scholorship that 7000 other students applied for. This, my friends, is where I am at.

It has been 2 years since I graduated, and I have yet to step foot on the campus of college. Do not delay you're schooling, you will figure it out. Otherwise, you will end up like me, stalking the pages of former classmates, who are now graduating college, getting married and having babies.

Fuck.

In the meantime, I highly suggest garlic salt in your Ramen. Spices things up a bit.

H as in Homosexual

I have a good job.

I make good money, and I am guaranteed 40 hour weeks.

I have full benefits.

But the customers I have to deal with on a daily basis drive me bat-shit insane to the point that I have considered quitting while having a fit of rage. Of course I don't, because I'm not fucking stupid, and I have bills to pay and that, despite the customers, I love my job. Anyways.

For your reading pleasure, I'm going to tell you about the things that annoy me the most.

1. When someone calls without the correct informations, and then says "I knew I was going to need that, but I didn't grab it." Then, they put me on hold and make me wait for them, instead of just having all the things they're going to need to fucking start with. Really?
2. Getting mad at me for having the wrong phone number in the system.
3. When people call, and I answer the phone and am on hold immediately. I'm sorry, but if you can't even wait until I answer to put me on hold, then we are done here.
4. When they call, and are having a conversation with someone else instead of giving you their full attention. What the fuck? If you don't want to talk to me then DON'T FUCKING CALL. Your other conversation can wait until we are done here.
5. The other day, I had some guy yell at me because I didn't know his phone number. He insisted that it was the same as everyone else on file for his company, when, in reality, everyone had a different fucking phone number. He then called me a liar and hung up.
6. When they act like I'm stupid. For example, I ask what their name is, and they say something like, "John Smith. It's kind of hard, so let me spell that. J as in Jaguar. O as in Octopus. H as in Homosexual. N as in Necrophilia." Um. I'm pretty sure I know how to spell "John."
7. I start with "HP this is Shaye" when I answer the phone. I am obviously a girl, with a very high-pitched voice. Yet people insist on calling me 'sir', saying "Oh how funny I have a son named Shaye" or calling me Chase or Shayne. Stop it. I am a fucking lady.
8. Someone will call in a request, and call back 15 minutes later demanding to know why our technician isn't there yet. Because you aren't a fucking princess, and you aren't the only customer. So shut the fuck up and be patient.

Please, I beg of you, do not do these when you call into any kind of customer service representative. Or anyone, for that matter. Don't be a fucking asshole. Ok? Please. I am begging you.

Also, when I was spelling out the name John, homosexual and necrophilia were the first words I thought of with those letters. No, I am not a pervert. Today has just been a weird day. Don't judge me.

Baby Maker

Readers, I have been dying to write about this since Friday, but it's been a very emotional weekend for me. There were so many emotions and thoughts going through my head that I thought it best I wait until I could (sort of) sort them out.

Now, get ready, because this news is going to blow your fucking mind.

A while ago, I posted a blog about my infertility. I've been told from the time I was fifteen that I would never be able to get pregnant and have kids. It made sense. I have PCOS. Instead of releasing an egg, my ovary forms a cyst, which grows and grows, until it finally ruptures and bleeds out. It's a very painful process, and one which caused me to not be able to have kids.

When I was told this, I was devastated, and the older I got, the more it hurt. Everyone was getting pregnant and having kids, and they had no idea how grateful they should be for the opportunity. I was jealous and envious and angry. Why not me?

About a month ago, I wound up in the E.R. with yet another cyst, only this one was bleeding internally, and growing very rapidly. So, of course, when I went to see my OB/GYN, he scheduled me for surgery, which was a little over two weeks ago. He removed the cyst, and some endometriosis, and took some biopsies. The results were in on Friday.

I went into my follow-up now knowing what to expect. I was nervous and excited and scared. The doctor comes in. First off, the biopsies showed no cancer cells. Woo! Also, considering the amount of cysts I've had in the last 5 years, there was, of course, a lot of scar tissue on my ovary. However, the doctor removed the cyst wall, which will cause my ovary to start behaving as it should.

Which means no cysts.

Which means that I potentially could become pregnant.

I cannot tell you the amount of tears I shed over this news. Happy tears, and confused tears. I am still having a hard time grasping the news. There are, of course, stipulations. It will be harder for me to get pregnant than other people, and I have a smaller age gap. He told me that I probably shouldn't plan on going to college before having kids.

This has been... difficult. I am 20 years old, and as much as I want-and need- to have children, I just don't know if I'm ready. I'm not even old enough to go to a bar yet. But the other half of me is saying go for it. You're mature, you have a decent job, and, if I were to become pregnant, Andrew and I would make things work. But what about Andrew? He can't be forced into fatherhood.

There are so many decisions to be made now, and timelines to be discussed. But guess what?

I'm gonna be a mom. Not right now. But I will. And I am so fucking excited for everything that the future holds.

Welcome to Our Home, Bitch

For a few months, Andrew and I have lived together. I want to discuss moving in with your boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse, because this is something that no one can every truly be prepared for. It is also the greatest experience a couple can have.

There are no secrets. If you want a relationship to work, you have to be honest about everything, especially if you're going to live together. Do not lie to them about your financial status or any other aspect of your life. Even if you don't live with them, they will eventually find out.

Privacy can be a hard thing to maintain when you move into a small place, especially if you have a roommate. You almost never get alone time, so prepare for that. If you need your space, set some boundaries! Otherwise you're going to go fucking crazy. Also, boys, girls poop. And if you want to keep thinking that they don't, then you should probably never ever live with one. Ever. Because we DO poop. Probably just as much as you do.

Ladies, do not ever yell at a man for leaving the seat up. He doesn't yell at you for leaving it down, so yelling at him for leaving it up is fucking hypocritical and a bitch move. You are perfectly capable of putting it down yourself, so stop being a bitch and do something for yourself for once, you spoiled little bitch. Moving on.

Everyone seems to think that moving in together makes a couples sex life go wayyyy up. In one sense, it does, because you're given many more opportunities to do the deed than you were before. But don't expect miracles. If you didn't have a good sexual relationship before, moving in together is not going to help your problem. Talk it out and figure out what's wrong.

Fighting with each other constantly over petty things, such as "You hung the towel wrong!" is going to destroy your relationship. If you cannot handle small changed in your living space, you shouldn't live with someone. You should live alone until you stop being an OCD bitch and learn that everyone has different standards of cleanliness. Talk about your expectations and work something out. If something bugs you, tell them, don't yell at them. And if you can't do that, then say goodbye to your relationship.

Understand that if one of you is sick, it is the other persons responsibility to take care of them, as well as the house work, until they are better. I had surgery a little less than two weeks ago, and I cannot tell you how fucking grateful I am to be living with someone who understood that, and didn't mutter a single complaint. You have to understand that it is your responsibility to take care of them, in sickness and in health. This applies whether you are married or not! If you are committed, you are committed one-hundred percent.

If one of you has pets or children, establish some guidelines. Andrew and I decided that we would split the pet deposit, but I cover the pet rent every month. Tito is my dog, yes, but Andrew and I are a team, and he feels that Tito is just as much his dog as mine, and I agree. We have made a life together, and compromise has gotten us a long ways in our journey, as well as communication and patience.

Don't think that everything will go perfect from the start, because it won't. Be patient, and know that there will be many serious and minor things that you have to work through together. If you love them, then it will be worth it in the end. Good luck.

After Operation and the New Kitty

Holy fuck. It has been too long, readers. I am so sorry.

First off, surgery went well!! I am feeling so much better than I have in weeks... And I don't even have my stitches out yet.

Getting back to my normal lifestyle has been hard. Walking through Walmart is exhausting, my stomach is so swollen I still cannot button my pants, and I may or may not still be fucked up on pain meds. But I am still doing better now than I was before surgery. Woopity fucking doo.

Since the last time I posted, the cat came home. Holy shit. This has been a hard transition.

The devil lives inside of TomPaco.

Now, this is a cat who may or may not be a boy. We thought he was a boy, but upon careful observation... Well.... He has a vagina. Fuck. Whatever. Its name is still TomPaco.

He growls like a dog.

He will climb up your leg using his claws, whether you have pants on or not.

He likes water.

He also likes the crawl on your chest, and back up until his butthole is touching your face. Ew.

He's kinda cute, and him and Tito get along really well, which wasn't the case at first. Luckily they transitioned well, and did it fast. First they were biting and clawing each other , and now they cuddle and play.

So, he may be the devil, but I think we'll keep him.

My Mom

I know it's been a long time since a blog has been posted. I have been really sick and am having surgery tomorrow. I know, what a bummer. But hopefully they will get everything figured out and I will be all healthy and beautiful again. So, due to my illness, I have been on pain meds. A lot of them. And holy shit. Remember that blog I wrote, "I am High"? Ya. That's me 100% of the time. Thus why there has been no blogging for me. My apologies.

Yesterday when I got off work, my mom took me to my doctor and then out to get a hamburger and a rainbow to make me feel better. (For those of you who don't know what a rainbow is, it's a slush puppy with vanilla ice cream. Best thing ever.) As I was spending the day with her, I came to the realization more and more that this is my mom.

To keep you in the loop, my biological mother and I had a falling out recently. She has been abandoned by all of her family, including her other three children. I stuck by her side for years, because I was the only one who had faith that she would turn her life around and start acting like an adult. For a while there, she did. Until the other day, when she took it upon herself to drive to Washington, take my grandma out of her care facility and run. And then she had the audacity to tell me off for being a backstabbing daughter.

Needless to say, we are no longer in contact with each other.

This took a hit on me. Why the fuck would she tell me off, when I was the one that stood by her all these years? I felt like, at the age of 20 years old, my mother had told me that I was no longer wanted, and that she was putting me up for adoption. It took a few days to come to terms with the fact that the reason was this: She is not my mom.

Luckily, I have a mom. She is married to my dad, and has been since I was three years old. As I've been going through all of these issues with my health, she has been there, holding my hand, talking to the doctors, and driving me to my appointments.

We have had our ups and downs, and there were times when we didn't even talk to each other for months on end. We disagree on things, and we fight, but every mother/daughter relationship is like that.

I am so glad that I have her in my life right now, helping me to fight through my emotional and physical battles that I've been facing. She has held my hand and walked with me through all of this. Her and my dad were by the side of my hospital bed when I was taken to the E.R. and she has not hesitated to leave work, so that she could be with me at every doctor appointment.

She is my mom. And I love her.

Sometimes I Write

While your family's growing
Mine's shrinking away
Shriveling to nothing
Isn't that what they say?
The seasons are changing
The colors are gone
We're eating our heartbreak
We're feasting on blood
The words in our mouths
Are filling the room
Death in inevitable
Our souls extinct soon
We're using our love
As weapons in battle
Family is forever?
I always knew you a liar
We're leaving each other
We say our goodbyes
I can feel the hate
Emanating from your eyes
You know what they say
Isn't love is blind?
But you see my faults
Your love is a lie

To the Titan

Dear Titan,

Today, I pulled into work from my lunch, and there you were. A beautiful red Titan truck, parked like an asshole. Both of your tires were over the yellow line, and you had not a care in the world.

At first, I was so angry. There were so many bitter thoughts running through my head. Why would such a beautiful creature act in such an ugly manner? Why?

I thought, maybe it's not your fault. Maybe you were raised in a way as to show no consideration for anyone, in any situation ever, especially when there is limited parking and, when someone takes up 2 spaces like you did, someone else has to park in fucking Africa and walk 700 miles to get to work. Good job, Titan.

Maybe you were raised right, and you're an asshole by choice. Did you wake up this morning, and think to yourself, 'Today I want to make someone park in Africa'? Did you? That's not a very nice thing to do, my Titan. You should be ashamed.

Now, as I sat in my Hyundai, stewing in my anger, I thought to myself, 'You know. Cars don't really NEED an entire parking space.' So slowly, steadily, I eased myself into the fraction of a space that you had provided.

But don't you worry. I made sure that there was enough room for me to comfortably ease myself out of the car. You, on the otherhand, might have some troubles. You see, I made sure that I left your truck without scratches. I did not, however, make sure that there was enough room to get your door open.

You're welcome, Titan.

Also, you can go fuck yourself.

Sincerely, Shaye and her Hyundai.

Karma

Fuck. Karma. Can I just say that right now? I just had the worst thing happen to me.

So Andrew and I play a game called 'Your Team.' You pick ugly people, and put them on the other persons team. It's pretty much like pointing to someone and saying 'you have to have sex with them.'

So anyways.

I'm really fucking good at this game. I have an entire album on Facebook dedicated to Andrew's team. Here is one.

So, normally I'll come across them on Pinterest, but sometimes, I'll do a google search. Today, I wanted to do a google search.

I typed 'Obese slutty' thinking it would come up with fat girls dressed in slutty outfits, looking disgusting.

Nope.

First picture that pops up is a fat girl vagina.

Mind you, I am at fucking work when this happens.

And then my Internet Explorer freezes up. (Don't judge me, I have to use Internet Explorer at work.)

So here I am, with a fat girls vagina FROZEN on my computer screen.

Fuck. My. Life.

So I turned off the monitor. It was the only thing I could do. When I turned it back on, Internet Explorer had shut down. Thank God.

I almost died.

Luckily, most of my coworkers were already out of the office for the day, and no one saw the oversized porn on my desktop.

And, luckily for Andrew, I gave up my search for fatties to add to his team today.

In case you're wondering, my face is still a very bright shade of red.

Share This Blog or You Will Die

I recently wrote a post about my addiction to Facebook. As you know, I'm on there 24/7, reading, stalking, posting, and judging. There are some things that bug the fuck out of me, and they need to be talked about.

First, why the fuck is there an 'it's complicated' relationship status? If you aren't in a relationship, you're single. There is no 'it's complicated.' It's fucking bull shit. And if you aren't sure whether or not you're together, you aren't together. Simple as that. If you're having problems in your relationship, don't fucking advertise it by saying 'it's complicated.' That's a bunch of childish bullshit and it needs to stop.

If you're having a fight with your boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband/friend/child/parent, don't fucking post it on Facebook! The only thing you are doing is asking for attention, and for people to take your side, and that is a dick move. Grow up, and tackle your problems with them, not the public.

Share this in 10 seconds on 10 status' or something bad will happen to you in 2 days. No it fucking won't. And if you believe it will, then you need to grow up and realize that it's just a fucking picture! Jesus.

If you post a status about something that's upsetting you, and someone asks 'what's wrong?' and you reply, 'I'll message you,' I'm going to delete you. If it's a private matter that you don't want people to know about, then don't fucking post ANYTHING about it!

"Like this if u love ur mom.' 'Like this if I'm pretty.' 'Like this if you hate cancer.' Fucking. Stop. We all know you love you're mom, and that you're an attention seeking whore who hates cancer. These pictures are cluttering up my newsfeed, and wasting everyone's time. You don't have to like a picture to tell your mom you love her. How about instead, you call her and tell her you fucking love her!

Stop posting pictures of your tits, ladies. You look like a slut.

Oh, and that goes for duckface, as well. It doesn't make your lips look more voluptuous, it just makes you look ugly and slutty and no one wants to see that.

Everyone has their bad days, including me. Sometimes I let people know. But not all the fucking time. Stop being so god damned negative all the fucking time. Nobody is going to come to your rescue. How about, instead of making everyone think you're a desperate sad loser, you show people that there are good things in your life. I promise, you will get way more friends doing that, than you will telling us all how sad and lonely you are. Nobody cares.

Now. Share this blog or in 10 days, I'm going to kill you in the middle of the night with the knife I used to butter my toast this morning.

25 and Obese

The other day I went and swam some laps. I had looked in the mirror, and realized that all of my muscle had melted into fat, and I was on the downward hill to obesity. My six pack had turned into a pillow, and my thighs of steel had changed to thunder thighs. If I didn't change something, I was going to be obese by the age of twenty-five.

Now, changing my exercise and diet was not as easy as I had hoped. I had a routine. Wake up, shower, eat, get ready, eat, go to work, eat all day long, go home, eat, and go to bed. There was obviously no room for exercise of any kind in my day. I was going to have to rearrange some things.

I got up at 4:45, and was at the pool at 5 in the morning. I swam some laps, and was finished in time for my normal routine to start. But then I realized something. If I really wanted to change my body, I was going to have to change my eating habits, too.

Fuck.

I don't like salad. I don't like anything green, or healthy. I like candy. I have an entire drawer in my filing cabinet at work devoted to candy. I can't just waste it all!

So I started advertising it. I told my coworkers about my candy stash, and told them to have at it.


I wish this was possible.



Unfortunately, I work with a bunch of healthy fuckers who haven't even toughed it. Are you fucking joking? If someone told me there was a drawer of candy that needed eaten, I'd have it gone in five minutes. Nope, not these guys. They want apples and salads and 'a healthy lifestyle.' Bull shit. So do I , and that's why I'm getting rid of my candy. Can't you help me out a little bit?

So, while my candy sat there, untouched, I came up with a plan. If I eat it all now, there will be none left later! Hallelujah, praise the lord. I am the smartest person on the fucking planet.

So, I've been eating candy to the point of projectile vomiting for the past week. Unfortunately, I am not even halfway done with it. Slowly but surely, the candy will soon disappear, and I can move on to a healthier life.

Did I tell you that I also stopped going swimming?

Does anyone know a good plus sixed store? I'm gonna be needing it soon.

LIfe is a Beautiful Struggle

First off, I just want to say that my thoughts go out to those in Boston today. Stay strong, you will get through this.

Now. Today, I am going to write about me.

The other day, someone told me that they were jealous of my life. They said I always seem so happy. I have a perfect boyfrind (yes, I do) and I'm so mature and grown up. She wishes SHE lived on her own like me, and was doing so well.

I am going to clear this up for you.

For those of you who think I am doing well, I will tell you that, for the most part, I am. But everyone has something hiding behind closed doors.

I have not lived at home for over 2 years. I had moved out at the beginning of the 2nd semester of my senior year, and this has hindered me so greatly. I almost didn't graduate high school because I was working 2 jobs, and working almost 40 hours a week at each one. That equals an 80 hour work week, and full time school. This is not possible to do, without failing in at least one aspect. I am so so grateful to have pulled through and graduated.

I am not financially stable, as you may think. I am not as bad off as many, but for me, even a small debt weighs on my mind greatly. I have doctor bills, insurance, a car payment, utilities and rent. This doesn't include gas for my car, or food, or any 'fun' things.

I am 20 years old and have yet to go to college. This is something that I am not proud of, and think about so much. I want so badly to get into school and start working towards my future in the medical field. But as I explained above, I am not in the financial position to do so.

I will not lie to you. I love my life. I am so proud of how far I have come, and all of the obstacles I went thtrough on the way. I learned so much, and have gotten so strong because of them. I have an amazing boyfriend-who is probably the only perfect thing about me-and, despite all of the things above, I can say that I am happy where I am. Yes, there are setbacks in my life, and things that I wish were different. But who knows what kind of a person I would be if I didn't have to struggle with something, and work for the things that I have.

I have had my struggles, just as everyone does. So before you compare your life to someone else, you need to realize that they have their struggles, too. Just because they don't advertise them, or they are different from yours, does not mean that they aren't struggling as well.

I am lucky to have such wonderful people in my life to help me through these things. I am lucky to be where I am, and despite everything that's gone wrong in my life, there are many more things that have gone right. And for that, I am thankful.

This Girl

Today I saw this girl.

She was disgusting.

And I can't stop thinking about her.

Let's start with her make-up. She had at least 1/2 bottle of liquid foundation on, covered with powder, which was layered with blush. As if the amoung of make-up was not bad enough, she had not blended it onto her neck. So there was a very distinct line where it ended, and her actual face began. She had fake eyelashes, drawn on eyebrows, red lip stick, and black eye shadow.

You think that's bad?

She had fake-baked so much that she looked like a leather saddle. I am not even sure if her skin was loose enough to bend her fucking elbows.

She was wearing a mini-skirt and hooker heels, and her hair was so ratted that I'm not even sure how it was possible. Oh, and it was dyed black. Not like, normal black. But the kiind of black that has that blue tint.

Now this is what I don't understand. How in the fuck does she think that looks good? How? And what is she going to do when she starts dating someone, and they see her without her make-up and run for the hills because she looks completely different? And who would be attracted to that in the first place??

Ladies who do this, please stop. I don't understand why everyone feels they have to be so plastered with make-up and gunk all the time. That's not attractive, it's gross. NO guy wants someone who is completely fake! They want to see you. Not your make-up.

I know, I know. I'm not a guy. How do I know this? Becuase every fucking guy I've dated has complimented me on the fact that I don't wear a shit ton of make-up. And every single one has told me how gross it is when a girl is wearing so much make-up that it comes off if you give her face the slightest of touches.

Now. Step away from the lip stick, and feel beautiful with your own skin. Make-up is for enhancing, not covering.

And hey. You're beautiful.

Puppy Hungry

As you all know, we are getting a kitten. Here's a picture.

It's a cute little thing, but it's not a dog. And I am a dog person.

Now, the more I think about this little fact, the more I want another dog.

The desire to have another dog is slowly killing me from the inside out. I can taste it, and feel it, and I can just imagine a little puppy stumbling across the ground while Tito chases it.

I can't handle it. I need a puppy.

I want to raise it from puppy until it gets too old to get up the stairs.

I want puppy breath in my face in the morning.

Tito needs a brother or sister. Rigth now.

My dreams are haunted with visions of puppies.

As if all of this isn't bad enough, my friends just got a puppy, and brought it over to our house to play. And I fell in love. She was soft and sleepy and cuddly and the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen.

I want a puppy. And I need one. And I don't care what Andrew and Lindsey say, I will get one.

I Want...

Everyone has a 'bucket list.' But I fucking hate the term 'bucket list' and instead, I have a 'things I want to do with my life' list.

I want to share this with you. Yes, I know that some of these are unrealistic and maybe even impossible. But you know what? Fuck that. I do what I want. And these are the things I want to do.

1. Own a business. (This is a goal that Andrew and I share, which makes it twice as likely.)
2. Skydiving
3. Own a puppy for its whole life
4. Visit at least 5 foreign countries (Australia and Africa are both the most important.)
5. Grow out my hair
6. Donate my hair
7. Dye my hair blonde, just to see what it looks like
8. Skinny Dipping with my love
9. Go to a karaoke bar, and actually sing karaoke (no matter how bad it is)
10. Get married
11. Adopt my children
12. Move to another country
13. Go to college
14. Buy a brand-new car
15. Have at least one blog post go viral
16. Learn to cut hair
17. Teach Tito a trick (which has thus far proven impossible)
18. Learn to love something I hate
19. Get my six-pack back (in progress)
20. Swim with an elephant
21. Go scuba diving in the coral reef
22. Tip my waiter/waitress over $100
23. Be debt free-even if it's only for 5 minutes
24. Become successful
25. Go at least one year without eating out
26. To fall in love with the same person, every day for the rest of my life. I love you Andrew. Thank you for helping me start this one.

These were listed in no particular order, and these are not all of my goals. They are just some of the ones that I can list off of the top of my head, and the ones that are the most important to me.

I really feel like having goals-big or small-is a very important thing as a person. It gives us something to strive and live for. And these are the things I live for.

My Friend Was Attacked by an Elvis Impersonator

When I was in high school, I was a competitive swimmer. I joined my freshman year, when I was still in junior high. My friend Lindsey also joined, and we became best swimming friends. And real life friends. General best friends all around.

Every day, we would get out of class early. (Practice started at 2:30, and school ended at 3... It wasn't possible to go to class and partake in high school sports... Never mind the fact that our couch said we could come late due to school. No one has to know that little secret.) We would meet at our school commons, and walk to the pool, which was only a couple of blocks away.

Now, our city swimming pool is located at the edge of the city park, which has a pond, which a fuck ton of ducks have built their home in (as well as various hobos). Most of the ducks were friendly. They wouldn't shy away from you as you walked past, but instead would check you out, trying to see if you were carrying a stale loaf of bread to munch on. When they established you weren't, they would go on their way.

Like I said. This was for most of the ducks. Except one. The Elvis duck.

His name fits him. He was fat, and mean, and his feathers stuck up on his head in a way that made him look like he was impersonating Elvis.  He had beady little eyes that glared into your soul, searching for bread without even looking at your hands.

This duck was the epitome of evil...  One day, as we were walking, this duck went bat-shit-fucking crazy. Out of nowhere, it attacked. Fortunately for me, I was not the target. Lindsey was.

She saw it coming. She immediately started running, and screaming her lungs off. This duck was out for blood, and she knew it. She dropped her bags and ran, while I stood behind, laughing my ass off. Here we are, minding our own business, when out of nowhere, Lindsey gets attacked by Elvis.

I grabbed her bags, and met up with her, where she had managed to shake him off. We looked over our shoulders, and we saw him. He was there.

Watching.

Always watching.