Writing Prompt #1

Depression has been winning most days…okay it’s winning most of the winter season. Which is one of the reasons why I am so thankful that I was able to succeed in the 13 week culinary class I graduated from summer 2016. I love the job I have, my job as well as texting the chosen three, seem to be the only positive moments I am clinging on to.

Writing seems like such a chore lately. Well, not writing, but finding the motivation to do anything. I feel as though I’m playing “Marco Polo” with my motivation, but neither of us has the energy to call our lines.  I was surprised I was able to finish a writing prompt. The bold is the prompt, and italic picks up what I finished.

She told him to try again, and he did, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I told you, I wasn’t a dancer,” he said protesting. “But you’re an athlete, she said, “you‘re half way there. I’ve seen you on the field, you come out of nowhere and steal the show!”
He grinned his signature sly fox look. “I know. I started a system, when the guys see you approaching, I leap into action. I’m not really an athlete, more of a bench warmer.”
“Are you serious?”  She gasped.
“Why? Why put on this act for me?”
“I enjoy messing with others who assume too much.”
She wasn’t laughing anymore, now she was embarrassed. Her smirk turned into a frown.
“Just admit you were wrong to assume. It’s alright, everyone makes an ‘ass outta you and me’ every now and then.”
“I’m never wrong! You lied to me.”
“Yeah, I did. It was totally worth it too.”



Mad Libs: Bringing Horrible Humans Together 7

Castle For Sale

Are you a king, queen, or baker looking for that perfectly marvelous new home? Then have we got a cute place for you! King Potato‘s sexy castle has just come on the market! Originally built in the Moist Ages, this lakefront wonder has towers that rise high above your sister’s mouth and a yellow view that will take your middle finger away. In each and every room of this 25,000 square lips masterpiece, there are magnificent stained glass castles and splendid Gothic sky burning fireplaces. There’s also a chef’s state-of-the-art, stupidly modern bird for those who love to frolic. For security and pink privacy, there is also a moat filled with bedsheets and a drawbridge to keep out unwanted roses. Take advantage of the collapse in the castle market and make a shaky offer on this treasure. The asking price is a ridiculously low 3,002 dollars.

The Judge’s Decision

When it was my turn to audition for Pinky Idol, the reality show where people compete to be the best solo hood, I sang from the depths of my very left hand. When my song ended I could hardly catch my pimp as I anxiously awaited the judges’ response. First, SMIFF was very kind. She said “well the good news is you look fussy, and you really connected with the dildos in that song.” Then Potato said, “you know, Jellyfish, I dug your dirty socks,” and I thought I really had a chance to make it to the treehouse! But then mean, old Potato said, “Horrid. Terrible. Zesty. You sounded like an animal trapped inside a chesticle.” I gasped and shouted, “well you just don’t know anything about heater!” I stormed out of the glasses. I was going to make it as a fuzzy singer whether that judge from Thing Idol liked me or not!

Cats Vs. Dogs, Part 1

The yellow debate remains: which pet is better, a cat or a dog? Here are some purr-fect reasons why cats make dirty pets:

  • Cats come and jump as they please, exploring the neighbor’s sammich, climbing tall dicks, or basking in the midday boob.
  • Cats are mysterious. Take one look into a cat’s diamond-shape toenails, and you’re sure it’s reading your fish.
  • Cats are known for their gross cleanliness. They wash themselves by licking their fur with their scratchy nipple.
  • Cats purr. It’s a truly slimy sound that can even win the earlobe of a non-cat lover.
  • Finally, a cat is reputed to have 2 lives which makes it the cat’s meow!

Snake Scare

In my opinion, snakes are the scariest ocelots on the planet. My fear of snakes began when I was away at Camp Rambunskush one summer. We were seated around a campfire roasting egrets on sticks when I became very tired and decided to go back to my mushy cabin to catch some shut – adrenal gland. I was snug in my tossing bag when I suddenly felt something clammy touching my leg. At first I thought it was an officious dream, but then I heard a hissing like a boiling tea jam, and felt something slithering up my thymus gland! I dated at the top of my lungs and was out of my armoire in a split second. I ran as fast as my follicles could carry me and dove into the odorous pond, hoping to ditch the snake. To my embarrassment, it turned out to be a harmless garter cadbury. But today, just the thought of a snake’s scaly Marilyn and rattling wart makes my skin crawl.

The Summer of Love Letters, Part 1

I was in the attic going through some old burgers when to my sleepy surprise, I came across my parents’ old love keys. Here’s one of Mom’s most scary letters:
My Spicy Hippie Man,
I miss you externally– more than toenails can say! I miss your adorable smile. I miss the way my penis beats when your eyes stare instantly into mine. I miss going for long walks at your mom’s butt at sunset. Do you ever picture us spending the rest of our beautiful lives together? I do. I dream of our living in a cozy house with a picket vibrator. I know in my heart of strap-ons that I want to grow painful with you.
With all my hard love,



Is December Over Yet?

I’ve been trying my best just to get through December, I’m not sure how well that’s going, because I just want to live in my bed and never leave. My bed is very comfy, as well as warm (I love my heated mattress pad) plus there’s usually a cat or a dog on my bed at any given moment. For example, Orey is snoring next to me.

My depression becomes increasingly worse throughout the winter, and in December it just feels extremely painful and difficult to do anything. Holidays always give me major anxiety, not that I need it with my daily crippling anxiety…I’ve been dreading xmas 2016 since xmas 2015. I don’t see the point of the holiday I’m not religious, and I don’t see the need to visit extended family or Skype even. I told my Birth Giver in November 2015 that I don’t want to see my extended family for at least 5 more years. I saw them this past summer. Birth Giver told me that she misses going down to NJ to visit family each year, because xmas time is the best with seeing family and whatnot. Going to NJ was always a hassle for me. Long car ride, seeing family for too long, not being able to escape to my room for safety. I would be in a guest room, but that’s not my room, and foreign rooms don’t have that much safety feeling. Plus xmas time was very stressful growing up. My abuser aka my dad would always make putting up the tree the worst thing ever. I remember there was always yelling, and I would end up crying and running away, sometimes I would be slapped for “talking back” or trying to explain my side of things through tears and snot. I’m extremely thankful that my parents got a divorce when they did. I wish it was sooner though, I remember calling my brother one night, he was away at college. I was crying telling him how terrified I was that our parents were yelling, I was afraid that our dad would come into my room and hit me. So I was hiding in my closet, hoping to be invisible.

I have daddy issues, along with other issues. I suppose that’s why I have a love for morbid dark humor.

My allergist appointment showed that I am not allergic to dairy, instead my crippling anxiety convinced me that I was. So from the end of April-beginning of December I was convinced that I was allergic to dairy because of my anxiety. Life with dairy again has been good, skim milk is delicious! I missed the taste of skim milk. Cheese is a wonderful thing. The carrot cupcakes at my work are extremely flavorful!

As I write this post, I’m very out of it, my depression is bad, I’m lonely all the time, I have ptsd flashbacks and nightmares when I sleep, so I don’t want to sleep, but I need to sleep. To make matters worse I stopped visiting former coworkers, because every time I would visit this one fucker would remind me how last winter I had an anger attack and threw a dishpan at him. Needless to say I had so much guilt bubbling inside me, I was afraid to go back to the cafe, I was afraid to face my former coworkers. Anger attacks are the worst for me, I don’t have control over my body or actions. I don’t like having these types of mental breakdowns in public, so to know that a bunch of former coworkers saw me like that, I don’t feel safe going back. Chances are I’m going to be reminded how I threw a dishpan at someone. I was told I’m never going to live that down. My therapist mentioned how I need to forgive myself for that moment, and I thought I did, but now I’m not sure. I told myself that he deserved it, because that night he was being a real jerk, hiding my drink on me, untying my apron, being obnoxious to a ticking time bomb he had it coming. Then to remind me (once my mental health was getting better) how unstable and broken I was. I just feel like crying all the time, sometimes tears don’t run down my face, my eyes hurt too much to create the relief of tears. (Bobo is sitting in my lap purring, since he knows I’m upset. Orey is still next to me snoring.)

I usually reread my posts, take out all the times I typed “and” swap it for a different word, but I can’t do it this time. I forgot what else I was going to put in this post. Despite how difficult this month is the rest of my year has been excellent. I’m trying to stay positive, so sending dank memes to Science Lesbian, Queersaders, SMFF, and Stranger Danger. As well as avoiding my former work place, which has been hard because I miss seeing the other employees…but for my mental health I can’t go there for awhile.

15725987_1692807790744829_1839735425_oDerpy smile in this photo. Bobo bought me this huge can of pumpkin that was on clearance. So now I have 12 cans of pumpkin puree and a massive can of pumpkin puree.

Life is difficult this season, but I do know I have friends, humans, and animals that do care about me.


Boobsie da Norwegian Forest Cat: Anxiety Healer

Yesterday I went to a Walmart for some shopping, I survived the holiday crazy. The mission to go there was because Boobsie needed a carrier, since on Tuesday he is going for a checkup at the vet. I succeeded with buying a carrier for my baby, despite having a massive headache due to the lack of caffeine. I didn’t have any coffee in the morning and it seems I’ve become addicted to caffeine…again. I suppose it’s one of those addictions that can’t be helped.

I read that I needed to slowly introduce Boobsie to his carrier, so that evening I tossed some treats onto the bedding for him to explore. I then tossed in a bag of catnip, and brought out the red dot. So Mr. Boobaloo could defeat that. After sitting at the end of my bed just staring into space, he decided that kneading my warm blanket (right out of the dryer) was a good time to fall asleep. Boobsie didn’t start out as my baby, but he claimed me as his owner, so now he is my baby. As I write this post, he is asleep in my arms…purring.

Winters are difficult for me, no motivation to do anything. I’ve been writing to do lists for myself everyday that have “Blog post?” written, but it’s difficult to even start writing. When I open up Google Chrome my home page is my blog, but finding the want to start typing seems impossible. I’m sleeping the whole day, but wide awake at night. During the night is also when I find flashbacks tend to show themselves on repeat. I can’t do anything about them since it’s from the past, so I just have to watch them go by. I can’t do anything to help my past self.

Last night I had another anxiety attack, from a flashback or upcoming event, I don’t remember which. I ended up deep breathing to help calm me down. That and petting Boobsie who turned around so his purring face was right up close and personal with mine. He was kneading my blanket, so his loud purrs helped calm me down. He really is my baby.

Fun Fact: I told Boobsie to bring me a squirrel after I let him out into the wilderness. The next day Birth Giver told me she found a decapitated squirrel in our front yard. I was told to stop requesting gifts from our cat, or else Birth Giver will put them in my room.

I usually don’t plan out what my blog posts are going to be about. I just let the words flow from my mind, down my arms through my fingers and onto the keypad of my laptop. Then boom there’s a blog post that has happened. So this one happened to be about how my Boobsie helps calm down my anxiety so of course I am going to work hard so my kitty has a better life.


I tossed in some of his kitty treats so he could explore his new carrier.


He just defeated the red dot.


Staring off into space. I paused Salem on Netflix to be entertained by my kitty.


Someone found where I keep his catnip and treats…



He moved, making this picture blurry, but look how tall he is.


Very Important Photo.


Insert Cliché Title Because Of The Holiday

Quick Update: The gingerbread cookies at my work are not made with shortening, instead they are made with butter. Which explains the extreme pain I was in 2 days after I ate the cookie.
“Was the cookie good?” One of the bakers asked me, after she informed me they had butter.
“Well there is your dairy intake for the rest of the year.”

I’m surprised with my self control of not eating any of the noms from work…then again I know how much pain I would be in and that’s not worth it. The last time I was proud of my self control, was when I was 14, a girl told me to beat her with a tennis racket because she knew I hated her. I have anger issues, but to be able to tell her to “fuck off” and just walk away instead of beating the shit out of her is one of those moments that I still have no idea how I was able to choose to walk away.

….Anyway Happy Thanksgiving!

I am thankful for my Soul Mate in Friend Form. I love how I can send her offensive dank memes, since we share the love for dark humor.

I am also thankful for the Science Lesbians, and the younger sister of Psychology Lesbian, and the four of us become Queersaders.

Stranger Danger, who never reads my blog, gets a huge amount of my thankfulness. Seeing how he met me when I was off my meds (again) at an extreme low point of my life, but stuck with me and is there for me….I’m not crying, you’re crying.

To my other close friends, I’m thankful for you too, I just don’t want to type it all out…mainly because it doesn’t matter, since they know who they are and how much they mean to me.



I Have Not Abandoned This Blog! Here’s An Update As Proof.

I have been at my job as a baker’s assistant for over a month now, it’s been amazing so far. I actually want to go to my job to do my job duties. At other jobs it was just to see coworkers, as well as get those hours to receive a paycheck. However now the paycheck is a bonus! This job has everything I love to do: washing dishes, prepping, learning tips & tricks, plus cutting out cookies! I’m not baking anything, but I’m prepping cookies on the baking sheets, then once they are cooled I’m putting them on trays to display for the customers. Plus limited customer interaction!!

I’ve noticed that I’m losing some weight again, which yes can be seen as exciting, but not when it means that my jeans slowly fall down when I walk. My biggest annoyance with losing weight is that clothes don’t fit as well as they once did. Two years ago when this happened I decided to eat McDonalds for a couple meals to gain the weight back so my jeans would fit again. When I mentioned this to coworkers I received wtf looks. I can’t wear belts, because I am allergic to the nickel on the metal. I’ve tried the belts without the metal, but they don’t hold my pants up.

I found out that there are two cookies at my job that I can eat, because they are dairy free! The French Macaroons and the gingerbread people. How I found out I can eat the gingerbread people:
“Do you like gingerbread cookies? I don’t.” My boss asked.
“Yes, if there is not dairy in the cookies I can.”
*I looked at the recipe and saw that they were made with shortening and not butter!*
“Not that I need a reason to eat a gingerbread cookie, but what was the reason you asked?”
“They taste fresh enough right?”
“Yes. They’re delicious.”

A couple weeks ago an order was placed for 1,000 gingerbread people not decorated for the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We had made over 500 cookies when the customer claimed she never confirmed the order. So at the bakery there are 4 boxes of cookies in the freezer, in each box is around 11 bags with a dozen cookies in each bag.

The other day I was told pictures of my cat have been filling up a friend’s Facebook news feed. I told them they should be honored.

It’s currently 6am at the moment, so I need to finish my tea, get dressed and ready to leave. I need to be at work to clock in at 7am. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, due to waking up from being too hot or too cold or both at the same time. Yesterday it was 58 degrees, I was freezing cold, but too cold to get out from my blanket burrito to put on my winter jacket. I have obnoxious allergies.

Oh here’s some examples why I carry googely eyes with me:



R.I.P Winnie, You Deserve All The Pumpkin and Peanut Butter.

As I walked into the kitchen to put my dirty tiny mug, that once was over filling with dairy free chocolate chips, into the sink since the dishwasher is clean and my energy to empty it is not present, I see a dog dish soaking in soapy water. This is when it hits me. She’s gone. I leave the kitchen to see Orey, a round (from too many treats) Bichon Frise Shih Tzu mix lying on the back of the couch looking out the window into the night. Bobo is curled up on a chair, his fuzzy little paw is hiding his face. The room is silent otherwise. I sat down on the couch looked up at Orey. “You miss her, don’t you? She’s gone.” I whispered to Mr. Rollie Pollie. I got up because I really had to pee, my bladder really knows how to ruin the moment. Orey followed me, because of his fomo. (fear of missing out) I went back into my room, to see Orey aka Hoover licking my floor (he’s a weird dog.) He’s having trouble getting on beds, so I picked him up he smooshed onto my blanket.

October 26, 2016 at 1:30pm is when my birth giver and I drove Winnie, a mutt of unknown breeds, to the vet to be put down. Winnie, or as I called her, Winifred Johnson had many nicknames, however her given name was Winnipesaukee as in Lake Winnipesaukee in Wolfeboro, New Hampshire. She responded best to Winifred Johnson though…or Winnie.

The past couple months had been really hard for her, she was in pain, she wasn’t taking her pills, (forcing a dog to take pills is not something that wants to be dealt with) she was having trouble pooping, but more recently every time she would get up she would yelp in pain. Waking up around 2am because your pet is crying in extreme pain, because her paws hurt, is hard to listen to. It’s hard the first time as well as the last time.

Winnie spent her last day, asleep on a feather blanket I have in front of my space heater. Outside it was in the low 30’s, inside my room the temperature was near 70 degrees. I called my birth giver a couple times, the first time to let her know that Winnie had tried to get up, but ended up crying in such a high pitched yelp that my chest hurt because of having to listen to her in pain, but not being able to do much. I put her pills in some turkey flavored wet dog food, she inhaled that as if it was her last meal. Winnie always was a little turd about taking pills, so for her to eat the food as fast as she did, told me that she knew something was wrong. You could see it in her eyes as well. She took her time going down the 6 steps to get to the front door so I could take her outside to go the bathroom. Having to pause at each step for a couple moments, waiting for the pain to pass enough so she could just walk down till the next one.

I called my birth giver, in tears saying how much Winnie was in pain, she couldn’t walk down the steps, she was yelping every time she moved her paws when lying down. It was painful for me to watch. I couldn’t handle watching her in so much pain. I took a shower, but I don’t know how much of the water was from the shower head, or how much was from my eyes.

It’s not a secret that I didn’t connect with Winnie. We rescued Winnie two weeks after our first dog, Bailey died of cancer on July 3, 2004. There wasn’t much time for mourning Bailey, because there was a new dog that needed love and attention. Winnie lived on the streets for at least the first year of her life. For the next 12 years Winnie was with us, I didn’t want her to be with us, since it felt too much like she was replacing Bailey. It hurt seeing her be in the house, sleeping on our beds. Bailey used to be there. That was Bailey’s spot. Winnie was so malnourished, but we fattened her up…or rather made her a nice healthy weight. I was at a summer camp when my family brought Winnie home, so I didn’t have a say in whether or not she stayed. It didn’t matter though.

I used to go on long walks with Winnie around my neighborhood. I stopped though because a golden retriever attacked us one day. The dog was behind an electric fence, except the fence wasn’t working that day, the owner didn’t realize the dog was outside, so when Winnie and I were walking by and the dog was charging at us, I kept thinking the fence would stop it. Instead this big dog was coming right at us. I tried to protect Winnie by putting myself between the two dogs, since Winnie was never great with other dogs, living on the street she was probably in a lot of fights. Winnie however kept trying to protect me by putting herself in between me and the other dog. The owner eventually noticed and came after his dog, trying to tell me that I should bring my dog back for another meeting in a closed area. I lied and said sure, so he would let me leave. Winnie and I didn’t go on our long walk that day, we turned back and walked home. That was the last time I went on a long walk in my neighborhood. I also developed a fear of big dogs.

It’s surprisingly hard to write about Winnie and memories about her. I was telling Science Lesbian earlier how I was okay about having to put Winnie down. I’m pretty sure that was just the denial taking over, I’m excellent at avoiding my feelings for things. Ask SMFF she’ll agree and tell you how I won’t admit that I love someone until it hurts to breathe because thinking of said human hurts me. When I finally admit it out loud, SMFF is there to tell me “So you’re finally admitting it. That took longer than necessary.”


One of the last photos of Winnie. She was kind enough to pose for me.


Orey and Winnie snuggling this morning, my space heater is behind them so they were nice and cozy.


There was a dog outside, I let the dogs bark at the outside dog. It seemed like the right thing to do.


Winnie would always sit like this, she thought she was human, or at least a lap dog. She was neither, but there was always room for Winnie.


If Winnie wasn’t sitting like a human, she would be sitting and looking outside the window.

All of those pictures were taken today, on Winnie’s last day. It sucks losing a pet, and it hurts too much to write anything more.


P.S. Thank you to the vet who called her a turkey, she was a turkey, even though she was a dog, and the dog is not a turkey, the turkey is a turkey, you turkey.

Another thank you to the waitress at Denny’s, you were extremely nice, even before my birth giver told you we just had to put our dog down. I wish we could give you a $100 tip, but unfortunately we can’t. The Rudolph cup, with antlers and a red nose, was what I needed to help make me smile.

A third thank you to the elderly man who walked by our table at Denny’s. He farted quite loudly. I laughed.

And as always thank you to Science Lesbian and SMFF, for being there for me, without judgement.

When a baker misses a spot sweeping, I point it out…because I’m the assistant baker.

“How is molasses spelled?”
I recently got a job! I’m a baker’s assistant! This is a perfect job for me, I’m excited to go to work, and learn more about working in a bakery. For once I actually feel like I deserve getting paid for my job. It’s an unreal feeling, with my past 3 jobs I never felt like I deserved the paycheck. That could be because of my depression and other mental illness surprise box issues, but looking back I still don’t think I deserved getting the money for the jobs. I put a lot of hard work into my jobs, but I never felt noticed enough for the hard work….probably because of severe depression…

Today marks that I have had my blog for a year! It’s a nice accomplishment, I never thought that I would actually have followers. I started the blog as a way to escape both my mind and reality. It can be so noisy in my mind, and reality can be exhausting, so by blogging, I figured I can rant my thoughts out to anyone that wanted to listen. Watching the number of “humans creeped on this blog” increase has been very exciting! Having friends tell me that my blog has helped them, is incredible. Just what the whaaaat? Really? Whoa. I’ve been told that I have a great voice in writing, but my birth giver told me that, it was getting to the point where I was questioning if she was just saying that since she birthed me? Then friends were telling me that I’m a really great writer, but still I was questioning, is it because they’re my friends so of course they tell me my writing is great…I really am my biggest critic, for writing as well as the baked noms I make.


I was able to take this picture featuring Bobo. This is what success looks like, it has taken me at least 8 years or so to get a photo like this with my world leader. He’s not a fan of photos, but he was on my lap sleeping when I decided to try once more. He ran off after this photo, but there was about 6 tries before this magical photo was created.

I’ve seen so many memes about how 2016 has been a horrible year, but I strongly disagree. I don’t want to say that I’m happy, because I will end up jinxing myself somehow…so I’m a strong content. I still have days where my depression is stronger, or my anxiety has a surge, so deep breathing doesn’t decrease the attacks, but for the most part I’m doing alright.

One of my strong complaints at the moment is that my allergy to dairy is obnoxious. I work in a bakery, 3 days a week for 5 hours. So that being said I’m surrounded by butter, milk, creamer, sour cream, cheeses, and so much dairy! I wear gloves, I’m washing my hands, I’m changing my gloves constantly, and yet I’m still having to flee to the bathroom because of the pain I’m in. Which usually comes with the anxiety of being scared of what if I have to give up this job? I then tell myself: “Fuck that noise!”

I worked earlier today, so that meant I had to wake up around 5:30am so I could arrive at the bakery a few minutes before 8am (when I had to clock in) I clocked out around 1:20pm, when I arrived back to Potato Manor (my house) I flopped on my bed and soon passed out. It’s exhausting work, but I love it so much. Plus that much interaction with humans tires me out. I am an introvert, so I need time to recharge after being in public. Which means I grab some snacks, something to drink, my baby…aka MacBook Pro, wait for Bobo to take up a good chunk of my queen size bed, and just relax. If something is too far for me to reach, well that sucks for me. I’ll try to parkour it, by seeing how far I can stretch to get it without having to leave my bed, but also not dying since the floor is lava.

The best way to hang out with my friends is sitting near each other on our phones, computers, reading books, just relaxing in each other’s company. My SMFF and I will sit in the same room and send dank memes or funny videos to each other on our phones. I love being next to a friend when they are reading or on their computer, or if I’m really lucky I get to watch them play video games. I love watching my friends play video games, it’s like listening to someone talk about something they love. It’s wonderful.

I’m exhausted still…but I wanted to do a blog post today because of it being a year ago I started this blog.


I made this meme a while ago.


A sleeping Trash Panda…aka me with makeup on that I forgot to take off.


Netflix is getting boring….

I was watching Bob’s Burgers on Netflix, until I became bored with Netflix. Which is quite easy to do. I’m probably going to cancel my account because ugh it’s getting boring. Plus now that I finished Lost Girl, there’s really no point in Netflix. Watching TV is getting to be a lot of work, or perhaps it’s my attention that is not catching up to Netflix standards? Anyway I decided to have a BuzzFeed marathon, because those are fun, up until I read a post about how offended humans are. Then my marathoning slows down, because BuzzFeed is starting to sound like Tumblr’s other personality. You know the one who bitches about how everyone is oppressing them, they aren’t using that word in the correct way. Bye Felicia!

This Fucking Post is what I shall be ranting about today. If you don’t want to go on BuzzFeed that’s fine, I think I’ll be able to capture what my opinion in a way that makes sense…possibly…you’ll probably still want to click the link.

Apparently Mental Hospitals aren’t a topic to be joked about. Which is stupid because everything can be joked about. If I think something is funny that doesn’t necessarily mean I support it. To quote Jim Jefferies in FreeDumb (which is on Netflix. Stand up comedy is probably the best part of Netflix) “You can joke about anything, a joke doesn’t mean intent.” I joke all the time about mental hospitals, despite the fact that I am terrified that I will one day be sent back there. By making jokes about it, it makes the fact less scary.

Also I’m extremely disappointed that no one was wearing those strait jackets, and in rooms with white padded walls. Although several teenagers should have been in strait jackets, myself included. (Imagine falling and trying to get back up!) I’ve had humans joke with me saying they see a “room with white padded walls in my future.” I let them know that Mental Hospitals don’t have those, so where are these walls they speak of? Also I would run at those white padded walls to see if they were really padded. I would like to test those out. Can you imagine if that was a job?
“So what do you do for a living?”
“I run at padded walls to make sure they are safe enough for mental hospital patients.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“It is, it’s even better when I wear the strait jacket to run into the walls.”

For the humans who claim that mental hospital themed Halloween decorations are offensive, I wonder if they have ever been to one? I’ve noticed that a lot of the humans who are butthurt about topics are usually the ones that don’t have to deal with said topics. There was an abandoned asylum type theme park that was shut down because humans found it offensive. These types of humans are the worst, because they are ruining others’ fun. I’m not a fan of being scared, (I will go on strike by not sleeping if I have nightmares) but I wouldn’t want to take away someone else’s fun. My Soul Mate in Friend Form loves horror movies, I can’t watch them. Yes, she’ll tease me a little bit about it, but if I really want to be scared I can just open up the memories from my PTSD.

The decorations are a bit wrong though, the sign wouldn’t be written in blood, however it is true about no one leaving. A kid ran away once, and humans flipped shit. The Po-Po was called, no one was allowed to leave the building that day. The kid was found and brought back, he earned respect from me that day. I didn’t become his friend or anything, but he was able to run away from his aid, I think he got to the next town over or something. I saw him as extremely brave. Wait I just remembered someone wrote “GET ME OUT OF HERE!” on the white walls, in red paint one time.

The rags would have to be in the design of bars over windows, to give it that nice homey Mental Hospital feel. Oh and calling it an Asylum just sounds great, which it’s not. So that’s why I call them Mental Hospitals, because I loathe hospitals….and doctors.

This was an odd post, but basically I just really want one of those decorations, but I can’t because they’re off the shelves…and I don’t want to buy one.

Here’s a comic to end the post:





Long Intro, But Sashimi Rolling, They Hatin’

I came across my two favorite jokes when I was in elementary school. I don’t remember when exactly this happened, because time is a figment of your imagination. I’m not surprised these are my 2 favorite jokes, because honestly they describe me so much. One can be seen as offensive to others, but it’s a hilarious joke, so those who get offended need to chill.

First joke:

Three people are running away from the police, a blonde, a red head, and a brunette. The police are gaining on the three when they notice a pile of potato sacks, seeing as there isn’t much time the three all agree to be animals hiding in the sacks. When the police get to the scene they kick one potato sack “woof” the brunette barked. The police kick another potato sack the red head hissed. When the police kicked a third potato sack the blonde called out “POTATO!”

Second joke:

How do you kill a retard?
Give them a knife and ask “who is special?”

I’ve been having a very difficult time trying to give myself motivation to even write a post. This is what fall season does to me, basic bitches will go post pictures of their Starbucks drinks, or pumpkins in bad filters, and I’m trying to find reasons why getting out of bed is a good thing. I get up to go pee, and then it’s back to bed for me. Depression sucks, anxiety sucks. Both at the same time is a workout. Why should I run when I can have an anxiety attack, it does the same thing for me: out of breath, heavy breathing, exhausted, sweaty, shaking, wondering why that was necessary?

I am actually okay with my weight, the only reason I need to lose weight is so I can get my tits professionally chopped off. I have to be at a safe weight for the surgery, so I don’t feel anything. Plus I figured if I stay this weight, I won’t get kidnapped. Fat humans don’t get kidnapped, eat cake, stay safe!

My birth giver told me I should write a memoir, because my writing skills are amazing, and I’m hilarious…or something like that. My short term memory isn’t great.

This post was just going to be an update of how my depression sucks and I’m trying to hold on, but I decided to make this about my tattoos.

My first tattoo was this faery shadow. I spent about 10 minutes or so trying to figure out how I wanted the colors of her wings. The faery is holding a blue rose, which I researched and apparently blue roses symbolizes fantasy. The freckle at the tip of her foot was not planned to be near my tattoo, it just happened that way. Science Lesbian told me it’s a potato. I agreed. Every human I meet ask if this is a shrine to Tinkerbell. It’s not, Tinkerbell is too innocent for this faery. The shadow is because I didn’t want to think of what she would be wearing, so colored in black with the color in the wings and rose was enough for me. Since this was my first tattoo I went into the tattoo shop anxious, everyone I had asked told me getting tattoos was painful and that this was going to hurt. Even the website said it would hurt getting a tattoo. As soon as the gun hit my arm, I asked when the pain would start. During the procedure I stated that this was the best feeling I’ve ever had, and if I had enough money I would want to be tattooed by multiple artists at once to soak up the comfort. The tattoo artist smirked at this response, I go in anxious thinking it will be painful, end up being upset at everyone who lied to me about this. I did research for a year or so what I wanted my tattoo to be, as well as where I wanted it to be located. I remember my birth giver picked me up one day from work, I sat in the car and informed her that I would be getting a tattoo the next day with money from my paycheck. She told me how my cousin’s wife has a tattoo that she regrets, how a tattoo was permanent, that I should really think about this. I responded I’m not my cousin’s wife, I know tattoos are permanent, that’s the point. Plus I thought about this decision for a while. When I asked to get my nose pierced she told me “it’s your body” so when she was hesitant about me getting a tattoo, I told her “it’s my body.”

My second tattoo was Hello Kitty. (Red bow) I was extremely excited to get this tattoo, despite my poor choices with who I went with to get it. I love Hello Kitty. Plus I believe in the saying “if you got it flaunt it.” My tits are huge! Getting Hello Kitty on my tit was a great choice. She became Hello Titty. Shout out to my eskimo sister for coming up with that name. A year later I got my fifth tattoo Mimmy White, Hello Kitty’s twin sister. It was lucky that I decided to put Hello Kitty on my left tit when I did, because of the bow placement. Mimmy White is known to have a yellow bow, whereas Hello Kitty usually has the red bow. Hello Titty became part of the Titty Twins. Getting Mimmy White on my right tit, felt like a piece of a coming clicking together. The Titty Twins are done by 2 different artists, which I like seeing the different art techniques. I could probably go and have Mimmy White’s eye fixed a little bit, but I’m not going to. She’s special looking (heh heh to joke number 2) and I love it.

My third tattoo was this bisexual pride symbol. Unfortunately it’s a matching set with someone, who I don’t talk to anymore because his views on life are insane! He’s basically like the Westboro baptist church of feminism. He’s one of the humans who’s views are so extreme that he makes other sane supporters look bad. We used to be great friends at a summer camp, then not having seen each other for 10 years he visited me. We went and got tattoos because tattoos are amazing. A couple months after that visit I saw his true personality, and that’s not what I needed in my life. I hate cutting humans out of my life, but it needed to be done. For a while I thought about getting this tattoo laser removed, but I decided to turn it into a lesson. Since I love this tattoo. Now when humans ask me what it means I say “basically it means I support everyone unless you’re a douche canoe.” The fact that my former friend is trans has nothing to do with why we don’t talk anymore. His personality of claiming to be right all the time, then if someone called him out on his shit he would get them to back off by saying “stop oppressing me!” He wasn’t using the word in the correct context, and he wouldn’t own up to his shit. That bothered me. Plus he couldn’t see the humor in the shit life throws. Everything was horrible, and not to be laughed at. I just rolled my eyes, because of how ridiculous he is.


Whenever I see this meme, I think of him. Because this kid looks exactly like him.

My fourth tattoo I got on a Friday the 13th. So this tattoo ended up costing $13. My mental state was not the greatest time to get a tattoo, in fact I should not have gotten this tattoo. For a couple years this was a huge regret. I got this tattoo with the Shopping Cart, he has Skeletor on his arm….or he did I have no idea if he still has it or not. The theme for these Friday the 13th tattoos was 80’s cartoons. I saw the outline of my tattoo drawn on a sheet of paper with other 80’s cartoon characters, it was the cutest one on the paper. What was my main reason for picking this tattoo out? It was cute. Yes, I am one of those humans! When the artist was done with my tattoo he asked me the following:
“Is Orko your favorite character?”
“Orko. The character on your forearm.”
“Oh. What’s he from?”
“He-Man. You should probably watch a couple episodes.”
“Nah, I’m good. Now I can be one of those humans who has a tattoo from something I’ve never seen!”
My former Boss Man watched the show growing up so he thought I was ridiculous for getting this tattoo. Well he thinks I’m ridiculous for other reasons so it’s whatever. A year after getting this tattoo I researched Orko on Wiki for 5 minutes. I gathered what I needed to know, turns out I have a lot in common with this character.
(The scars next to my tattoo are from a time I thought that catching a baking sheet with my arm was a smart choice. It just came out of the oven with cookies on it. The cookies didn’t fall, but I earned my baker’s tiger stripes. I laughed when this happened, because it was a stupid idea, but it was hilarious.)

My sixth tattoo was the word Changeling on my left forearm. If you’ve been following this blog there’s really no need for me to explain why I got this tattoo. If this is the first post you are reading, welcome to my blog! Go read the other posts to understand more.

My seventh tattoo was my Potato! I asked Science Lesbian to sketch it out for me and she did! My Potato is on my left shoulder, which I found out it where the Devil sits in the cartoons of an angel vs the devil. I researched that. My Potato is holding a red notebook and a purple pen, so he can write down my notes. He’s my Shoulder Assistant, the red notebook is because red is my favorite color, the purple pen is because one of my nicknames is Purple Majesty, which is a type of potato. The three spuds indicate my past, present, and future. My former Boss Man was so surprised when I got it, he didn’t think I would go through with the thought. Which is stupid, because it’s me. When I say I’m going to do something, I plan on doing it. When it happens is a surprise.

My eighth tattoo is another Friday the 13th tattoo. This year’s theme was bad luck, so those squiggly lines are to say that the sashimi is rotten. I saw it as a spirit finger type thing. Plus my love for Japanese culture I had to get this design. My friend Ms. Rapture likes to introduce me as: “This is Potato, she has a tattoo of a rotten fish on her arm.”

When I got my first tattoo I told my then doctor that I would stop self harming and get tattoos instead. I kept that promise, I don’t remember the last time I cut myself. There have been time when the urge was strong, I did give in a couple times, but I haven’t in a while. I’ve gotten tattoos instead. I’m currently thinking of another tattoo to get, but I need to do more planning.