Posted in Life

Mental Illness Up For Grabs

Can I just give someone my depression? Or rather all of my mental illness issues? I don’t want them anymore….well I never wanted them to begin with. What middle schooler decides ‘know what would be great to add to everything new and confusing I’m dealing with? Mental illness! Sign me up for that shit!’ If there is a small human who actually says that, please introduce them to me, so I can inject all my years of mental illness issues into that small shell of a robot….I would like to have a robotic arm in exchange. Can you imagine all the wicked cool Inspector Gadget things I could do?! Inspector Gadget was so much better than Sabrina the Teenage Witch…perhaps this is why I support robots so much? I mean robots are going to take over the world one day, I rather be on their good side. So random lady who paid with her phone on apple pay at panera bread, then complained at me for saying “robots will take over one day, are you ready?” you are probably going to be the first to be on the robots’ bad side.

That was a great way to start off this post. Perfect example how my mind works. Be upset with one thing, remember something great, followed by a memory that pissed me off…then smirk to myself in an empty room, because I’m ridiculous sometimes.

Onward to the main reason for writing this post.

I was talking to my therapist about how I believe one of the reasons I was in an abusive relationship to the point of getting pimp’d out, sexually molested, blaming myself then next day, having a panic attack in public, then getting matching tattoos with said guy who pimp’d me out… has to do with the people I surrounded myself with. I was close friends with 2 humans who weren’t the best humans to be around with all the time. I’ve mentioned them a couple times in past posts. The Testicle mainly is who was a horrible friend to me, if you can even call her a friend. She would say some of the nastiest things to me, but follow it up with “I say this because I care about you.” Her “friendship” got to the point where I would ask coworkers to insult me, because the words I was saying to myself over and over again, weren’t strong enough because I grew so used to them. Most of my coworkers would actually compliment me, but at the time I wouldn’t accept it, now thankfully I am grateful to those humans.

2015 was a tough year for me, I don’t remember any of it. I kind of remember bits and pieces, but not enough for me to say what happened each month. I’ll remember something, but it didn’t happen that year, it might have happened at the end of 2014, or the being of 2016. I never understood how humans can go black out drunk all the time, I blacked out for a year due to mental illness, looking back it’s one of the scariest events that happened to me.

When I dropped out of college in 2012, I deleted so many friends off my Facebook, because I was extremely ashamed of myself, I couldn’t graduate college, I was letting so many humans down. I felt useless, scared, and judged. Good thing I had The Testicle to be there for me continuing to make me feel worse by adding to the list of negatives. She told me I could only have cheese once a week. It got to the point where she was telling me what I should and shouldn’t eat. So I ditched our friendship and never looked back. I chose cheese over her and it was one of the best things I’ve done for myself. It’s probably up there with dropping out of college. I’m glad I dropped out of college when I did, because I was miserable when I wasn’t with my friends, in anime club, or following the albino squirrel on campus taking pictures, thus being late for one of my classes. It was probably math class… albino squirrels > math classes.

I’ve recently started adding back former classmates from high school, those who I was close to then. In the hopes that maybe we’ll become close again? I realize it might not happen, but I figured I would try anyway.

I want to apologize to the humans I’m recently adding back into my life, I’m sorry for the way I acted in high school and middle school. I had just been diagnosed with depression and anxiety. If it’s something you can just forgive and forget about, I’m slightly jealous, I wish I had that super power, instead I constantly remember events that happened in elementary school through high school. I can’t do anything to help my past self, so of course that gives me a whoosh of depression.

To the humans who stuck up for me I thank you every day, even if it was something little, that they didn’t think meant anything. In elementary school I was being bullied for my weight, because of course I was. I remember one of the popular girls told me to stick my hands out, she told the bully to stick his hands out. “Shut up Charlie. Keely’s fingers are thinner than yours!” Charlie ended up mumbling something and walking away, the other girl did too, but I was so shocked that she would do that for me. She earned so much respect from me that day, and honestly I still give her so much respect. I looked up to her in the sense of her bravery and confidence, because height wise, I was the tallest in the class.

Another example was during a fire drill, my anxiety was skyrocketing, since fire drills did that to me all the time, I would be anxious to go to the bathroom because what would I do during a fire drill? Where would I go? I also didn’t want to miss anything in class, because there was never a good time to ask to go to the bathroom.
All the classes were lined up on the turf field when I hear the phrase “penis” be thrown out into the wind. The penis game was starting. Another human yelled “penis” soon a group of boys were seeing who could scream the phrase “penis” the loudest. Ryan Rahmati won that round. So thank you Ryan for making my anxiety decrease during that fire drill. I’ll never get to thank him in person for that. I missed my chance for that. I did tell his mom, which made her laugh so I’m glad I was able to pass that memory to her for when she needed a laugh. Ryan was one of the good guys, he never bullied me, which obviously earned him so much respect. My body was instantly numb when Birth Giver informed me of Ryan’s passing, I wasn’t fully present at work, I couldn’t walk over the 2 houses to his memorial at his parents’ house. I was able to give his family some coffee cake and espresso brownies that I had made, I walked those over a couple days after. My anxiety makes being in large crowds difficult, thankfully his mom understood. I wished it was Charlie who died instead, whenever I saw Ryan in passing on the bus, he looked so happy, I was proud for him. Rest in Peace Ryan Rahmati.


Posted in Life

The Creeper’s Handbook aka This isn’t a Phase, Karen!

Everyone keeps asking, “why do you call yourself Potato?” There are lots of reasons, each new human I meet gets a different answer. My favorite reasons are: 1) I have too many chromosomes 2) I feel connected to Potato memes on Google. 3) Potatoes are awesome.

I was talking to Ginja last month about how I wrote a college final essay titled “The Creeper’s Handbook” I asked him for his email so I could send it to him to read, but he’s all “I’m very private, no one knows my email. Blah blah blah.” Psh typical. I was going to print it out for him to read, but then I had a better idea: I’ll put it on my blog.

I’m very awkward with crippling anxiety, still waiting for this phase to be over, but apparently this is my life meow. So why not add to the social awkward by putting an awkward essay on the internet.

Things to remember while reading:

  • Final Essay for a College class
  • My major was Creative Writing
  • I read some of this aloud to my class of 10 students
  • This is the only essay that I saved from my time in college.

December 7, 2011
WRT 250
Final Essay Portfolio
The Creeper’s Handbook

I’m sitting in my room with my two best friends, when suddenly my stomach rumbles, I look at the time, 8:30pm the dining hall has been closed for an hour, so the only options to go get something to eat are the Lodge or Hannaford’s, but since we don’t want to go drive to Hannaford’s at this time, we walk over to the Lodge and grab a sampler for the three of us to munch on. As we are walking over we can see that the moon is bright and full tonight. The weather isn’t that bad either, some snow on the ground, but most of it is melting, which I am so thankful for, since I don’t like the snow one bit. Or the cold that comes with it. Once we get inside of the Lodge we go order our food and pick out our drinks then go and sit down in the middle of the room, on those green comfy chairs. One of my friends mention that you are here tonight, I don’t see you right away, even though you are in my line of vision, sitting directly across from me. After a moment or two of me looking everywhere, I find you. I’m not going to wave at you because we’re not close at all, I’m more of the girl who just likes looking at you because you’re what I consider “eye candy.” I mention to my friends that I really want your picture, but I don’t think you will let me, so I’m going to take out my camera phone and take a picture that way, without you knowing about it. I look over to my left at one of my friends who is laughing at what I am doing, my friend on my right has her face in her hands, and we’re not being obvious at all. I pull out my phone with the camera in it and point out loudly that there is this text message that I just have to show my friends. I start pressing buttons, turning my phone on to vibrate, so that it won’t make that noise that says, “look here!” when I press the OK button to take the picture, and start setting the camera up. I start zooming in and I just about got the side of your face when you turn your head and I press the button, at the same time. My friends and I start cracking up laughing so hard, I look at my phone and I see your eyes staring right at me, it’s a good picture if I do say so myself. I don’t usually get such a great picture on the first try of the night, but I guess when you’ve been in the business as long as I have (about a year) you get better and better. I’m probably not going to keep this picture for more than a month, but the memory will be with me forever. I’m a full time student, but part time creeper.

The term creeper is slang for an eerie or weird person. There are a bunch of different definitions for the word creeper on Urban Dictionary, one of them being “a person who does weird things, such as staring at you for hours through a window. Usually a close friend or relative. You know right away if this person is a creeper or does creeper things, it’s not hard to spot a creeper.” Another definition of the word creeper is, “someone who views your profile multiple times without saying anything.” The second one is more of a definition for an online creeper, whereas the first definition is for a real life creeper. I guess I could put myself into both of those categories because when it comes to creeping on the Internet, I can honestly admit that if I’m on Facebook and you have your settings so that people can view your pictures, I will be one of those creepers that will look through all your pictures. As for some of the things that I do in real life creeping all I do is take pictures of random people that I find attractive. I don’t use a really high tech camera like some people would do; no I use my phone with a built in camera.

The term stalker has also has a lot of different meanings, Urban Dictionary has one definition being: a person obsessed with another to the point of insanity. Following one everywhere, calling constantly, not following restraining orders, collecting their hair in shower drains. Then another definition from Urban Dictionary is: real stalkers seek out beautiful, interesting, and often famous members of the attractive gender. I am not a stalker, and there is a difference between the two terms. Creeper is what I consider a very toned down version of Stalker, more like a kid friendly edition. Stalkers on the other hand are the people you want to watch out for. I’m not a stalker because stalking would be taking the creeping to the top and actually following the person everywhere, taking pictures of the person all the time, and giving them attention that they don’t want. For me creeping is just some fun game I like to do when I’m bored and I want to entertain myself. Sure I take pictures, but it’s not with over the top, when I do take these pictures it’s always with my phone with the built in camera. I also don’t have a shrine dedicated to these people that I take pictures of. That is just weird, even for me. I’m not the paparazzi or anything like that; I’m just a student with a little extra time on her hands.

I can guarantee that the word creeper is in every middle school student through college students’ vocabulary, and most of them use it in an everyday sentence. The group The Lonely Island probably has something to do with that, with one of their hit songs The Creep. The song is basically talking about how to creep on people and when to do it. One stanza of the song describes how to look like a creep: Well we got a new dance, so get up on your feet/It’s real easy to do and it’s called the creep/Let your hands flop round like a marionette/Pop your knees up and down shaking your neck/Now pull your waistband up like you expecting a flood/And stick your hair down flat like it was covered in mud/Trim up your pencil mustache and pop them peepers/Put this in your speakers, you a certified creeper. The very last line of the song is, “don’t forget to smile.” For me I personally like this song, because I find it hilarious, and I know that all of The Lonely Island’s songs are joke songs, they make fun of people and things, creepers are one of those things to make fun of. The band Radiohead also has a song about being a creeper, their song is called Creep and the chorus of the song is this: But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo. /What the hell am I doing here? /I don’t belong here. Although these songs are both about creepers, they are both also very different. Creep by Radiohead was released in 1992, and then nineteen years later The Creep by The Lonely Island was released.

The first time I ever creeped on someone was in college. Before that I was just a random person, who didn’t even think about creeping on people like I do now with my friends. There was this time in the 8th grade, where my science class had to write procedure piece essays, it could be on any “How to” essay we wanted it to be on. I had forgotten to bring in my essay that day to work on it in class, so I started a new one, well a fake one. It was something I could do that day and be productive at the same time, or so I thought. My title was “How to Become a Stalker” my teacher thought that it wasn’t appropriate and took it away before I got half a page done. I however, thought it was funny and entertaining, and I was technically following the directions to the assignment. I had the materials and then the first line of the procedure part. From what I remember the materials were these: binoculars, notebooks, writing implements, and most importantly a camera. For the first sentence of the procedure part it went along these lines, keep well hidden in the presence of your prey. I never finished writing that, I guess even I thought it was something too stupid to continue.

I remember the first time I ever creeped on someone was the fall semester of my freshman year of college. I was in the Lodge with one of my friends, and I noticed this sophomore guy who I thought was really attractive, my friend told me who he was, and for some odd reason I really wanted to have his picture on my phone. So I was thinking about how I was going to go on about doing this, when my friend said, “you know Keely, you could just pretend to show me something on your phone and then take the picture of him instead.” While my friend was saying this she was being sarcastic and laughing. Even though I knew this, I thought it was a great idea and did exactly what she told me, through a step-by-step process. When I finally got the picture I noticed two things wrong with the picture. 1) His back was turned to the camera, so I just got the back of his head. 2) His friend was staring directly into the camera. Which was really intimidating, so I deleted that picture, just as I was about to take another picture, he got up with his friends and left. That picture was just the beginning. Soon after I would begin bringing my camera to the dining hall and take pictures of people, sometimes I would forget that the flash was on. Next thing I would know, people would be staring in my direction with a confused, surprised, shocked look on their faces. At first I wouldn’t understand why this was, but then it dawned on me, most people don’t like having random candid pictures of them being taken as they’re eating. 

There are both pleasures and dangers of creeping. I’ll start with the dangers first, so you know what to watch out for.  One of the most dangerous things about creeping, is if you get caught you have to come up with a reason of why you were doing what you were doing. An example scene would be something such as: I see you across the quad, I’m near Ware, and you are by McKean Hall, thankfully none of your friends are with you. I’m glad because the group of you, you’re all just so intimidating. I want to get closer to you but there is a mass amount of open space and nowhere for me to hide, because I’m obviously not going to just walk up to you like a normal person would, no that’s just not how I function. I notice that you are walking towards Page Hall, I have to make my move, and it’s either now or never. I pretend that I got a new text message, look at my phone, sigh, turn around and start walking towards Sawyer Center. There’s a big, tall tree in the middle of both of us, I look behind me and make a dash for the tree, when I get there, and you start walking in a different direction. I get out my phone and switch it to the camera settings, the thing is though I forgot to turn the sound off, I don’t realize it until I take the picture and by then you are less than three feet away. I have no idea how you became that close to me, but you did. You hear the annoying, high-pitched voice that says. “Look here!” and you turn and are now facing me. You caught me red handed, I have the camera in my hands, lens facing you. I can think of only one option right now, and that is to run away. However you have something else in mind, you narrow your eyes and start closing the distance between us. Instead of running away, like I planned to do, I freeze up and shut my eyes, because if I can’t see you, then you can’t see me. “What are you doing?” You ask, and it’s those four words, which make me know, that I have been officially caught, I suppose there is a first time for everything, right?

That scene is just one of the many options that could happen, thankfully I have never been caught, as far as I know, I mean no one has ever come up to me and asked me, why I was taking their picture without their permission. Another danger than could happen, is that someone could mistake you for a stalker, and get a restraining order against you. That is much worse that having someone catch you taking a picture of him or her unexpectedly. 

I’ll end with the pleasures of creeping, because this essay should have a nice end to it. When I creep I’m usually with my friends, one of my friends said that we should have a name for the three of us, she came up with: The Creeper and the Creepettes. After she said this, all three of us started burst out laughing, this was because of a couple reasons. 1) We were all very giggly. 2) The name itself sounds ridiculous. I can imagine us with the color-coordinated shirts, and Creepette 1 and Creepette 2 written on my friends’ shirts, just like Thing 1 and Thing 2 for Dr. Seuss. We wouldn’t really walk around campus, like that. Honestly that sounds too ridiculous for even me. The pleasure about creeping with friends is that you can share all the memories together. You can joke about how it was funny that one time when you almost got caught, how you were so scared, but then something happened and you were able to get away safely, without someone noticing you. 

One of the pleasures that I remember doing is making a video with my friends. In spring of 2011 I joined an event on Facebook that was called National Hug a Tall Person Day. I went up to this one guy, in the dining hall, who was at least 6’ 2”, one of my friends calls him Tall Freak, because well he’s really tall. He was my first victim- I mean first person to ask if I could get a hug. When I walk up to him asking for a hug, only to get turned down. His reason? He’s not that tall. All this time my friends are recording me asking this guy is I could have a hug, at a nearby table. So my rejection is recorded on camera, and is also on YouTube, because I thought another way to remember these hilarious times is to put them on the Internet. 

I suppose I need to come up with new ways of creeping, since I explained every last one of them right here in this essay. However I don’t creep on unsuspecting people a lot, in fact I don’t remember the last time I creeped on a person. That’s how long it has been since I whipped my camera phone out and started taking pictures of people. I hope you found this paper interesting, and remember the golden rule it’s all fun and games, until someone gets caught, then it hilarious….Unless it is you, which in that case it is not funny at all.


Posted in Life

The Tea of the Day is: Cream of Earl Grey

Appelsin is such a buttface. I was trying peacefully look at Harry Potter fan theories and memes, when this little, clawed, fuzzy, ninja, indoor panther decides to attack my laptop from the bottom. I’m sitting on the couch with my right foot firmly on the floor, and my left foot crossed over onto my right knee, thus creating a small table for my laptop. The small space between my thunder thighs is just open enough so Appelsin can jump up and attack. So when I lift my laptop up, there is a small little kitten face staring at me. I can’t help but laugh because there is a pussy in between my legs.

I fucking hate the holidays. I keep asking Birth Giver if we can just cancel xmas. I’m not religious so I don’t give a shit about a “virgin” giving birth to some spawn of a god. Xmas always meant receiving presents, spending so much on gifts for others, and counting down the days until January 1st. I always feel like such a fucking brat on xmas, because I have my list and when I don’t get what I put on my list I feel horrible. Sometimes I have moments when I receive something I didn’t ask for, and am in awe of it. But that doesn’t happen too much.

I remember one year Birth Giver gave me this knitting circle thing. I guess I made such a face when I opened it. Birth Giver asked if I liked it, I responded “no” because I was told lying is bad. Apparently I wasn’t suppose to tell the truth either? The fucking asshat (abuser) started yelling at me saying I wasn’t suppose to tell Birth Giver that I didn’t like the gift she picked out for me. I don’t remember the year but it was at least 12 years ago. I still feel like it was recently. This is what the holidays do to me, bring up so much horrible memories. I hate decorating the house for the holidays I find it such a waste of time, plus I noticed that my anxiety skyrockets when I focus on the decorations. This past week I’ve had difficulty breathing when I was upstairs by the xmas tree. I don’t want there to be a reason for me to give gifts to those I care about, I rather give them as just because moments, or I saw this and thought of you moments.

I’m getting worked up again, but I needed to let out my thoughts. Appelsin is squeaky breathing, she’s not asleep, but breathing heavily enough that the air coming out of her snoot makes little squeaks. She’s now curled up in Orey’s bed. Stereotypical kitty. Orey is asleep on one of Birth Giver’s tote bags. He’s definitely a mama’s boy. My tea is delicious, so that helps my emotions, I guess.

On a slightly separate topic, how did the phrase “monsters under the bed” come to be socially acceptable? I never feared monsters under my bed, when I was young I would crawl under my bed to escape the monsters. As I grew, I couldn’t fit under my bed. Stupid Trisomy X Syndrome. When I would switch to different beds I couldn’t fit under those either, I would try hiding between my bed and the wall, but nothing seemed to protect me. I tried hiding in the closet too, but that would mean I would have to clean out all the shit I put in there when I was told to clean my room. When my parents divorced, I think I was the only one who was very excited over it. For years I would wish for them to get a divorce, I was terrified of the fucking asshat who claimed to be my father. I still don’t trust fatherly figures, yes I understand not all men are fucking asshats to their offspring, but there are some that are, and they terrify me. I guess I’m always on edge when I’m around young children because I get flashbacks of when I was a young tater tot and had to find ways to protect myself. (My eyes aren’t watering, yours are.)

When I’m with friends who have offspring, I desperately try to push away my memories and be in present moment. It’s difficult, so I guess that’s why I don’t go out in public a lot?

I’ve been wanting to write this post for awhile, get it out of my head. I took a lot of motivation for me to do so, I’m glad I finally did get it out, perhaps some of the nightmares will leave my head too?


Posted in Life

My pumpkin chai is now cold it took me so long to write this

I’ve put off writing a blog post long enough, I had legit reasons for why, no motivation, depression increasing, extreme exhaustion, wrist pain, Appelsin sitting on me asleep and purring. I mean that last one I thought that I would never be able to move. Once a kitty lays down on you, you’re pretty much stuck in that position until they get up and leave. As the chosen bed for the world leader you can not get up. Just accept your fate and be proud. Appelsin is sitting next to me as I type this up. Orey is on my shoulder laying on the back of the couch looking out the window…he was there first, then I sat down so of course he had to lean onto my shoulder for support. He’s tubby, which may or may not be my fault, I give him treats because he gives me *those* faces. When I don’t give him a treat, I avoid his eyes, he follows me, continuing to stare at me until I cave. I end up going downstairs where he can’t follow me. We have an understanding, which is why his nickname is Tubby.

Orey just moved to the other side of the couch, I think he can read, he didn’t like the Tubby comment.

I believe it was last month I had this great idea to write a blog post, but I never did. So I’ll write it now.

To set the scene I dropped out of college in the fall of 2012, I lasted 2 years and a week and a half at Colby-Sawyer College. I’m surprised I lasted as long as I did honestly, I had lots of difficulty, not just with the work, but also my mental health. Campus Security was called on me at least twice. One time was because I cut myself with scissors, I didn’t have any plastic knives near me, which was my go to choice, because I couldn’t bring myself to use metal. A former friend called the heath center on me. Another time was because I turned my phone off so Birth Giver ended up calling Campus Security on me, having Campus Security knock on my dorm room was incredibly embarrassing, how I lasted another year was beyond me. This all happened my Freshman year.

I tried really hard in college, a lot of it I didn’t understand. When I would go to the tutoring place I didn’t ask more questions when I should have because I felt guilty for still not understanding the material after it was explained a bunch of times already. I liked some of my classes, but the material didn’t stick in my head. So when the exams came around I would always draw a blank on the answers.

I loved hanging out with my friends, and being in the clubs, I remember I told an upperclassman that I felt like I was at a summer camp the first week. I was having fun, perhaps I’m really good at pretending everything is okay when really it’s not? My Soul Mate in Friend Form was the first one to tell me how college isn’t for everyone. She was there for me during my multiple break downs, particularly one in the library. It was finals and I had waited till the last week because of course I did. I was in the basement of the library trying very hard to hold in a massive panic attack. This was Sophomore year.

I left during Junior year a week and half in, I already missed 2 days worth of classes, I couldn’t leave my room. My depression was getting worse by the minute. I felt extremely guilty being on my friend’s “Worst Roommates List” she hadn’t said anything to me about this, but I just knew I was on there. Plus my grandmother went to Colby-Sawyer College, she was so proud of me getting accepted that I didn’t want to leave or disappoint her. So I continued to suffer because I didn’t want to be the family disappointment.

When I got home I deleted so many college friends off of my Facebook. I was so ashamed for having to leave due to my mental health that I didn’t want to burden my friends. It’s been 5 years since I dropped out. I’m proud of my friends who have graduated, I’m upset that I burned those bridges with some friends, I can’t just “add friend” to a bunch of them because that’s just how I am as a Potato.

For a while whenever my depression and surprise bag of mental illness started to increase (usually around August) I would delete friends off of Facebook because of the fear, embarrassment, guilt, all around depression of not wanting to be a burden to everyone. Then in the Spring I would add them back, or try to. I would also just give up on the adding back, because of the thought of how obnoxious it must be to be deleted then added back.

There was another topic I wanted to do, but I forget what it was, plus this topic took a lot out of me, but it also feels powerful to finally let it out. As I was writing this post outside my window was moving day for a family of squirrels. I watched as Momma squirrel carried at least 3 baby squirrels out of a tree hole, one by one, moving them to another tree out of view from the window. I grabbed some photos and a video.

Left: Momma Squirrel is guarding the tree hole with baby squirrels inside.
Right: Momma Squirrel totally sees me



Posted in Life

True Life: Apparently I’m a Grown Ass Woman

I noticed something on my birthday, April 3rd. Despite turning 25, I don’t feel, or rather I don’t see myself as an adult. In fact ever since I turned 18 I never see myself as an adult. I always feel like a child in this strange body. I’ve asked friends if they ever feel as though they are trapped in a body that isn’t their own, not in a transgender way, but as a “yo-this-body-doesn’t-fit-my-age.” Friends have informed me that no they do not feel that way. I let Birth Giver know, and asked if it was part of having Trisomy X, plus being on the Autism Spectrum, she said it is possible.

The event that gave me the epiphany:


T’was the evening of Monday April 3rd, this vision takes place at a Shaw’s grocery store. All I wanted was a toy in the 75 cent machine. The toy was called “Dogs in Disguises” Despite already having one- Diablo, a white dog disguised as the devil- I wanted to see what my chances were of getting a different one. I put three quarters in the machine and turned. CLICK. Open the flap, no toy. WTF! Shit, now I have to go get my refund of 75 cents. When this happens at Hannaford they give me my refund of 75 cents not problem, it has happened more than once so the workers at Hannaford know the drill. However Shaw’s did not know the drill. The workers at Shaw’s told me they don’t control the toy machines, since they’re controlled through a vendor. I know this, I just want my 75 cent refund. Lady from customer service followed me back to the scene of the crime, aka where robots ate my money. She asked a bagger what to do in this situation, he said he didn’t know, page the manager? Manager was paged, after a few more back and forth conversations, I was finally able to get my 75 cent refund. First I had to fill out a form, because of course I did. I put my preferred last name “Sir-Potato” since the whole ordeal was ridiculous. While this was happening, Birth Giver and her bf were wondering what was taking me so long. In the car ride back Birth Giver said from her point-of-view it was looking like ‘better give this grown ass woman her 75 cents back before shit goes down!’ Oh. This explains the reaction of the workers at Shaw’s, see I saw everything as, ‘humans are being rude! Robots ate my 75 cents, please just give me my refund and I’ll be on my way.’ This whatever it is, also explains the reaction from the bagger and cashier when I was offered the entire roll of stickers at Trader Joe’s one time. IT ALL MAKES SENSE! HUMANS SEE ME AS A GROWN ASS ADULT! SO OF COURSE THEY’RE GOING TO GIVE ME WEIRD GLARES, WHEN I DO WEIRD SHIT.


Since this power of knowledge has absorbed my mind, I of course have been reliving so many embarrassing memories, all of them are when I’m trying to fall asleep. So I’ll be up at night fighting my past memories, it’s difficult to fight them alone, which is why I’m so grateful that Boobsie comes running out of nowhere, to help calm me down. I usually fall asleep petting his fluffy belly, since I am allowed to do so. I also tend to wake up, with my hand still on his fluffy fur.

I think it’s interesting when I let other humans know that I am on the Autism Spectrum. They don’t believe me at first, but why would I lie about that? I’m not a believable liar, I would test lies out on a nosey neighbor, (made up relatives died) I mean there was that one time I convinced an elderly couple that Birth Giver named me Potato when I was born, because when I popped out of her I was such an ugly child. I have no idea how I was able to keep such a still face when telling them this, because every time I retell the memory I am cracking up. I bet it’s because of my great acting…which is like the acting in porn. Cringe worthy. I know I can’t act, which is why I’m always surprised when someone believes a lie. Am I learning how to properly lie? Or am I just magical? Probably magical, I am a changeling after all!

Photo time!

A teddy bear dog (Orey) snuggling a gay leather daddy teddy bear (Bun Bun):



He’s giving me hugs!
sent to Lucas
I sent this picture to Strange Danger to wish him luck on his shift one night.
I had some poo on my thumb.

Whenever I do or say something questionable, I tell myself “I’m an adult!” As though to make whatever I just did seem totally acceptable.


Posted in Life

Meet the Members of my Rock Band!

There seems to be a confusion about my Rock Band. They aren’t a band in the sense that they play instruments or sing, they’re a band as in they band together. My rocks are there for each other and me. Each time I pick up a rock I needed to find it for some reason. I’ve had friends help name my rocks as a way to help me keep connected.

1 .Bob the Boulder: It was late fall 2015, I don’t remember 2015 that great. 2015 was as if my mind was on pause, so my body just operated on its own. I think I had so much shit happen to me in 2014, that I had to block out 2015 so I wouldn’t have more shit piled on. The last 6 months of 2014 I had multiple humans abandon me during the time I needed them the most, these were human who I thought were my friends. I realize now it was for the best, unfortunately I wasn’t able to realize this sooner. During fall 2015 I was at my worst, my closest friends lived states away, I couldn’t open my door to greet SMiFF like in college. Every time I walked to work I would pass this rock on the side of the road, I would give it that head nod, the ones that humans give to each other as a greeting. You know the one that doesn’t involve talking, aka the best kind of greeting. One day before leaving Potato Manor I grabbed a reusable cloth bag, when I walked up to Bob I picked it up and put it inside my bag. Bob ended up being half covered in dirt. So basically I dug up a huge rock before going to work. When I walked into the cafe I remember Ms. Rapture asking me what was weighing down my bag I had draped over my arm. I told her I found a new friend in the form of a rock. I texted Science Lesbian asking for rock puns, she delivered with Bob the Boulder along with a few other options. My former coworkers agreed Bob the Boulder was the best name.

2. Kk the llama Rock: Stranger Danger texts “K” to me all the time. Yes, he’s one of those humans who texts me pictures of decapitated bodies. (OK looks like a sideways stick figure) I texted him asking to name my pet rock, he responded with “Kk” I responded with “Ll” because our conversations are amazing. Llama was the first word to come to mind that started with “Ll” According to Stranger Danger I named Kk the Llama Rock in homage to him, since he had no part in naming my rock.

3. Squire Spud: This one is in the shape of a potato. I’m Sir-Changeling aka Potato, so of course I have a squire! A friend named this one for me.

4. Peaches: Birth Giver found this rock on one of her hikes. She suggested I name it Crystal because of the way it looked. That was such a generic name, I asked SMiFF who informed me the name Peaches was better.

5. Melvin: This rock showed itself to me when I was leaving the Lake House aka my grandparents’ summer home. Melvin Village, New Hampshire on Lake Winnipesaukee is the location of the Lake House. I never refer to the Lake House as my second home, it has always been my grandparents’ summer home, saying that it’s my second home never felt right to say. In my dreams the Lake House always appears as a safety base right before a nightmare starts.

6. Shit Nugget: I was walking to meet Birth Giver at a gas station so she could then drive me back to Potato Manor. (This was during when I was in CKA, the sous chef would be making up lies to stir up unnecessary drama in the class. Which gave me unnecessary panic attacks that resulted to locking myself in a bathroom trying to calm down enough to get through the day.) I was angrily stomping my way to the gas station, I was upset that this disgusting human was able to get to me this much. I found a rock at the same moment I shouted “She’s such a shit nugget!” I then squeezed my rage into said rock, my anger was able to go through me into the vessel of a rock. With the help of my classmates and Chef I was able to succeed in blocking out her drama. Having my Chef say “it’s okay to say no” was a huge relief for me. I never told the sous chef “no” but I said it in a different way, which apparently was me sassing her in a way that made her livid. My classmates told me to keep on sassing this human, since it gave them life. Shit Nugget is that reminder that I won’t let some disgusting human get me down.

7. King Momo: I had this rock that was without a name, so I posted on Facebook that I needed a name for a rock, in exchange I would send noms to the winner. A friend I’ve known since Elementary School provided the name “King Momo” she also told me to look up the meaning behind the name.

8. Petunia: While visiting my brother’s girlfriend’s parents on a mini vacation with Birth Giver we were tourists at Plymouth Rock. Along the shops in the area there was a small one with Harry Potter merchandise. I found a rock outside the shop, deciding to name it Petunia rather than Plymouth (the name that was suggested).

9. Lucifer aka Luci: On my way to bother…uh I mean drop off noms, visit former coworkers, and try to free the major guilt that was associated with my former work place. I found a rock. I gave my 2 weeks notice in late February 2016, however I wasn’t able to free my guilty conscious from the flashbacks until January 2017. Flashbacks of having to leave all the time because of anxiety attacks from register trauma. End 2014 to early 2015 not only was I severely depressed, but I was terrified of an assistant manger who worked there. I couldn’t work the closing shifts on Mondays, because the fear this assistant manager gave me was so strong. I was convinced he would kill me from the day I met him. Saying this out loud seemed so ridiculous I kept it bottled up.

Whenever I had to work a shift I would prep myself 2 hours before leaving Potato Manor. Of course even then I wasn’t able to complete my shift, I would get to work act like I got this, last about 2 hours, end up having to flee from register because I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I never really forgave myself for letting down coworkers as well as the other managers who thought they could count on me. I would mentally beat myself up about this night after night. At one point after holding in 5+ hours worth of anxiety this assistant manager told me “we don’t need you anymore” before taking my register drawer to go count it in the office. I broke down in front of everyone. I somehow was able to tell the head manager that I needed to leave right then. I couldn’t look him in the eye as I told him this. I was so broken from such extreme mental issues.

I kept hoping the flashbacks would stop once that assistant manager left. Obviously that didn’t happen, instead increased panic attacks happened. I thought about leaving to find a different job, but whenever I would look at job ads I would have so much anxiety that I could never click on the job description. When I finally was able to leave the job I had the most guilt from the feel like I was abandoning everyone who counted on me. Especially the head manger. I never really felt as though I deserved the amount of respect he gave me. I stayed as long as I did because I couldn’t bring myself to leave, I felt as though I owed him so much for all he did for me. That’s a weird sentence, I feel I owe a person for treating me with respect.

I would always bring noms as a peace offering to the Friendly’s Ghost in hopes that maybe I could be free from this fear. It took until January 2017 to be free from the traumatic flashbacks. I invited myself to a work meeting, I told humans it was for the free food, when really it was so I could soothe my guilty conscious. I skipped one of those work meetings in 2014 because of the insane amount of fear due to that one manager. Lucifer seemed like a good name for this rock, which is tiny by the way. This tiny rock which stands for so much fear I’ve gone through.

10. Tootie: I told Birth Giver that while at Goodwill I farted since another customer was getting too close to my personal space. My grandmother told me she taught me well. There was a rock near Birth Giver’s car as she picked me up that day.

11. Herbert: I dunno, I found it while shopping at outlet stores. I thought the name was odd, like my rock.

12. Stirling Hatred: SMiFF gave me the name as we were reminiscing inside jokes from college. I had a rock that needed a name, after a fit of giggles it was decided.

13. Francis
14. Reese
15. Malcolm
16. Dewey:
SMiFF loves Malcolm in the Middle I had 4 rocks which needed names.

17. Wanker: it’s fun to say…

18. Fredlicia: I walked into my former work place with noms as well as the announcement that I found a new rock, who needs a name. Fred was a name that was suggested, someone else told me to add “licia” to the end. Thus Fredlicia!

19. Global Warming: This one is in the shape of Vermont. Winter 2016-2017 has been crazy.

Rock Band Members 1-18 in no order whatsoever.
#19 Global Warming


Posted in Life


When I was in middle school I would tell new friends that I was shy at first, but once I opened up more I was alright. I continued to say that through high school, some friends would chime in saying that I wasn’t shy whatsoever. I remember having this embarrassed feeling engulf me, but still manage to continue on with the conversation, despite the awkwardness inside my head.


So I guess those humans were right with saying that I was not shy. I didn’t use the correct word to describe myself. I should’ve said “I have extreme anxiety, that will turn into crippling anxiety in the future.” I recently had the epiphany: ‘oh, I’ve always had anxiety. I just didn’t know it at the time.’ Along with the extreme anxiety meant the attacks that followed when too many emotions would happen at once, or I didn’t know how to deal with my anxiety so of course I would burst. I would always try to have my attacks at my house, rather than in public. Or a bathroom if I could find one. Which is odd because the feeling of being trapped is not one that I enjoy. So going to a bathroom hiding myself behind closed doors and walls probably isn’t the greatest coping skill. I say “isn’t” because I still do it.

I was told growing up that my anxiety attacks, panic attacks and anger attacks were all temper tantrums. So that’s what I would tell others that I had. I remember the looks I received back all made me seem as though I was pathetic. I bet if I changed the wording I wouldn’t have had those looks given to me. Which is stupid.

I don’t remember my first panic attack, but I do remember a bunch of them. The outcome of all of them were horrible. If I was around my Abuser whenever one would happen, I would get a hard smack across my face followed by yelling such as “STOP CRYING! IF YOU DON’T STOP CRYING I WILL SMACK YOU ACROSS YOUR FACE SO HARD YOUR NOSE WILL BLEED! THAT WILL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT!” The reason for that response was because I was upset that a science project didn’t work the way I wanted it to at home. When my cousin showed me how to do it, it went smoothly. So I slammed my hand on the wall and stomped away crying very upset. Only to have him follow me to my room and yell at me. Birth Giver didn’t do anything to stop him. Maybe that’s why I’m terrified to have panic attacks in front of others?

(Birth Giver asked me if I call him Sperm Donor, since she’s Birth Giver. I told her his name is Abuser)

I have to stop this post now, because I work at 7am today. It’s 5:33am currently so I need time to calm down the swirling flashback memories.


Posted in Life

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.


Posted in Life

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.

Posted in Life

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: