BACK FROM THE DEAD. I work at a fruit stand now. Go me.

I know. I wanted to blog at least a few times a week, but apparently I suck at regularity. My “time of the month” is whenever God wants to fuck up my workout schedule. Just for funsies I cramped up for an extra week this month. It was awesome. Those “Turbofire” workouts are so much better when you can’t lift your legs without spraining your ovaries.

Anyhoo.

Am cold. I work at a fruit stand. It’s not completely outside, but it’s missing a wall and has a massive walk-in cooler that takes up a full quarter of the store. Awesome in the summer. Kind of like living next door to Antarctica in the Fall. I’m pretty happy there is basically no fruit left besides apples, pears, squashy tomatoes and pumpkins- there’s nothing left in the cooler to go hunt for. I’m starting to enjoy that crushed look people get when I get to tell them their entire day is ruined because “I’m sorry, we don’t have any plums left.” THEY’VE TURNED LEFT FOR NOTHING! THIS FRUIT STAND IS A LIE!

Oh, by the way. We don’t have any plums left because I ate them all. You can have an apple, though. Mmmm. Hollow substitutes are delicious.

...

P.S. Also, I think I have pink-eye. Or eye cancer. Jesus Christ, this is a fun day. I’M DYING OF SOMETHING STUPID.

Nobody laugh at me.

Meh. Not like I really needed mine anyway.

YEE-HAW!

BREAKING NEWS: BRAS CAUSE BREAST CANCER!

New studies! Scientists! Toxins! There is research backing this!

`

"three out of four women who wore their daytime bras to sleep contracted breast cancer"

- STATISTICS

Saggy tits? Blame your parents!

- New Jersey College of Medicine (a REAL place!)

http://www.chetday.com/breastcancerandbras.htm

*THE MORE YOU KNOW*

Just because I CAN, doesn't mean I WANNA

I need to shut the hell up. For some reason it really bothers me when I'm the most outspoken one in the room- I feel like I'm talking too much. It's like that idea that there's always someone in each class who just keeps going on and on and won't let the class progress because the world will cease to exist if they don't get every little thought out of their heads. I feel like I border on being that person, even though I try only to contribute to what's actually being said, and I try to make sure there's absolutely no one else who wants to say anything before I raise my hand at all. I'm not that bad of a public speaker- I don't get twitchy or sweaty, and I've never been prone to fainting or even getting a bit light-headed. Being in front of a group of people makes me uncomfortable, but I'm usually okay about it- I've always kind of thought being in grade 10 drama class was the height of any public embarrassment I'll ever experience, so why get upset about sharing an actual opinion or reading off a piece of paper at the front of a room? It can't be any worse than improv-ing something so awkwardly even the teacher feels bad for making you go on stage. I honestly think people who do stand-up are some of the bravest people in existence. I've got a friend who started doing it recently, and he's brilliant at it- I'd love to have that kind of stage presence. Somehow I always end up feeling bad for saying anything. Although I've heard that might be why comedians are so good at their jobs- because they already know how much everything sucks, and they give up on silly things like feeling bad about it. That's a frigging awesome way to look at everything. But I still hate saying things in class. I'm too suspicious of everyone in the room to trust they're not willing me to shut up silently, and I'm too insecure to not care about it at all. Apparently my head is still in grade 5.

... like pregnancy, but without that awful baby-part.

WHAT?!

It should not be possible for someone to eat an entire 2 lb bag of baby carrots in half an hour. Seriously, who the hell gets "carrot cravings?"

... and am now feeling a bit like a bloated rabbit. Because of fucking CARROTS. THE HELL?

This is why I don't keep peanut butter around. Or soy cheese.

High-five for honesty

.... "Smells like an expensive hooker!"

http://inmusic.ca/news_and_features/gagas_blood_in_her_new_perfume/9c18cd2f

... dear baby Jesus. Please, just stop. There are few things I want on my skin less than Lady Gaga in liquid form. Actually, I can't even think of anything right now. Maybe acid. Or napalm. I'm half-hoping this is one of those celebrity "Oh, haha, aren't I funny and witty. Look at the wacky things I say!" moments.

I should come up with my own perfume. (All the cool kids are doing it)... I'll call it "Innocence," because each bottle will be made with the tears of a hundred virgins. It will also cure cancer.

I can't blame vodka, so this is Lewis Carroll's fault.

UPDATES ON THE STUPID:

I`ve got a paper to finish, other papers I’ve yet to start, an inbox full of angriness I’ve been avoiding, two midterms I’ve forgotten the dates of (but am probably already fucked for), a horrible niggling feeling that I’m forgetting a whole bunch of other things all equally important and scary, and all I can get my sleepy little head to wrap around is whether or not Value Village has any brown hats. Oh, and the massive crush I’ve apparently developed on Andrew Lee Potts in the last three days.

BROWN HATS.

In Soviet Russia, Lewis Carroll blames YOU

I think maybe I need to replace “ridiculous” with “stupid.” And maybe add a smack in the face, because-really- who the Christ purposely forgets about a midterm because their brain works like a retarded squirrel and it’s easier to pretend I’m researching fairy tales when all I’m really doing is re-reading “Alice in Wonderland” and looking up costume props on Ebay than it is to click on a few things and figure out when I have a test scheduled for.

BECAUSE I’M RIDICULOUS, THAT’S WHY.

I’ve also been worrying a bit about the amount of crazy laziness that goes on in my head lately. I think if my brain were a person, it either took way too many drugs and lives in Super Mario World, or got a concussion and speaks in Russian 40% of the time, or developed its own special kind of ADD because it got bored reading about dead British people and heard twitchiness gets better drugs. It’s a special kind of ridiculous. I’d patent it, but it’s completely useless for anything besides wasting time and worrying medical professionals. And it’s COMPLETELY DESTROYING MY GOOD INTENTIONS.

LIKE VODKA. VODKA ALSO DESTROYS GOOD INTENTIONS. VODKA AND LEWIS CARROLL.