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April 2nd, 2014


I dropped a fucking light bulb. It depressed me so bad, I chose to put on my Old Navy flip flops and creep around the billion points of shattered glass until I made it to my bed where I lay in a stupor and listened to this:


Then when I did drag myself from my catatonic fugue, I took a "What type of Goth are You?" test and got "Hot Topic Baby Goth." What kind of shit is that?

I still haven't picked up the lightbulb. I haven't taken out the trash.

I got hair dye all over my white kitchen whilst doing the mountainous pile of dishes and what else, dying my white-ass hair.

My boyfriend responds with "Ok" whenever I tell him anything. I fucking hate that. What is that? Next time you tell me something, anything, I'm going to say "Ok." Oh, your puppy died? Ok.

On the plus side, I went into the orthodontist and had them cut the wire that was digging into my cheek like something from a Saw movie and I can stop drinking Orajel now.

Edit: I stayed up til midnight looking at toasters, stopped briefly to pick up the lightbulb and put it in the trash which I hauled to the curb, woke up an hour late to find my trash can on its side and the lightbulb all over the street.