Your average nerdy girl with a weak spot for animals with smushed-in faces, Tokyo, The Lord of the Rings, and expensive footwear. I like to get my panties all up in a bunch. Sometimes I laugh at my own jokes.
I live in a small European country where marijuana and prostitution are legal.
in the right shoes
“you know i no longer give a fuck about dating, and this is 99.4% of the reason why: texting is weird, dudes are awful, and i have neither the time nor inclination to start fixing all of the shit that’s wrong with me. i don’t even want a boyfriend, man. but then i keep seeing that one match.com commercial featuring that one girl with the adorable king charles spaniel dancing around her closet taking instant grams of potential first date outfits and i am fully invested like i know her, balanced precariously on the edge of my bed clutching my baby blanket to my heaving bosom, tears streaking a path through the (gluten free) el milagro dust clinging to my sticky cheeks, shouting “no girl, not the red jacket! the drape is all wrong!” desperately at my miniature-version-of-an-adult-tv 19” flatscreen. “what is that, sushi? god, i hate billiards. he couldn’t have taken her on a nicer date? get out forever thanks.” and that euphoric 30 seconds is enough to delude me into thinking that maybe i should be featured in one of these commercials. I AM TOTALLY ADORABLE. check it: the scene opens. camera pans up my narrow entryway, carefully avoiding the two big bags of garbage i am waiting for a reason to take down to the dumpster. i’m laughing with all my teeth showing, the way women always do in commercials, scrolling through the zero messages received on my smart phone’s handy match.com app. “i’m so fucking happy being single!” my terrifying open-mouthed grin silently reveals as the nondescript adult contemporary soundtrack twinkles in the background. i pull several fashionable items (read: my one decent pair of jeans) from the closet (ie the designated “clean” pile on the floor) and hold them at arm’s length, admiring my effortless style and good taste, blissfully unaware that the viewer can see the lumpy outline of the poise pad i am wearing through the leggings i am legit trying to pass off as real pants. oh look! there is my pet cat! i am in no way creepy or undateable even though you can see that she totally has her own spot on my bed!”