Tag Archives: mental-health

I Wasn’t Going to Do It. But Then I Ended Up Doing It. Begrudgingly, Of Course.


i’d like a breakdown from shitler of the different ways my 3%’er status can go up.  like does it go up a half percent if i actually do a load of laundry when i say will?  or maybe a whole percent if stop saying that i’ll clean my car like i’ve been saying for the last month?  because maybe i should actually get like a big bump in percentage for following through on major things.

so remember this?

well, i signed up for one.  and i ran almost every single day.  and then my gym closed for a week and i totally used that as an excuse to be an even lazier piece of shit than i normally am and didn’t run the entire week leading up to the race and instead just ate everything i looked at and laid on the couch.

so then it was the night before the race and shitler was heading out of town and he wished me good luck and i gave him a look.  and it must be my typical “i’m pretty positive i’m not going to follow through on what i said i’m going to dolook.  

because i was almost positive i was going to bail on it. why?

i didn’t feel ready.
i was convinced i was going to come in dead last.
i was beyond self-conscious.
i had never done one before.
i didn’t think i would make it through.
i hadn’t run on anything besides a treadmill for the last eight weeks.
i didn’t want to run it with anyone knew i knew because i would rather fail miserably in front of strangers.

and shitler was not happy.
because i was really living up to my 3%’er status.

but i woke up the next morning.
and decided – fuck it.

so i ran it.

and i’ll be honest.
the only enjoyment i took from this was when it was fucking over.

but i did it.
so i think i should get 2% for that.  because this was kind of major.

at least for me it was.

and just so we’re clear – i feel like i got hit by a mack truck.  shin splints, back ache, sore feet.

but eating an entire pizza the day after certainly helped.
and i might consider doing another one if it means i get an entire pizza to myself afterwards.

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I Can’t Stop YOLO’ing


in all seriousness – i’m just not equipped to do anything other than lay on my couch all weekend.

i’m not even exaggerating.   if i leave my house i end up doing something terrible to my liver.  if people come to my house i end  up doing something terrible to my liver.  it’s best for all involved if i hole up in the living room and watch television shows that shitler judges me for watching and not communicate with anyone.

and this weekend was no different.  it involved copious amounts of alcohol, reading the second and third fifty shades of grey books (again) in less than 48 hours, and letting people write “YOLO” on me.  

i’m really not good at learning lessons.

here’s a photo recap.  enjoy or destroy.

and i know that people are annoyed with that damn “YOLO” expression, but it’s really the best possible thing to respond to anything with.  seriously.

you really shouldn’t drink that second bottle of wine.  it’s tuesday.  “YOLO.”

is that pizza on your diet?  “YOLO.”

you have to go to work today.  “YOLO.”

you skipped the gym again?  “YOLO.”

you’re honestly putting bacon on that?  “YOLO.”

have you done anything today besides lay on the couch and watch game of thrones?  “YOLO.”

you honestly bought a gun mug?  “YOLO.”

are you going to put pants on today?  “YOLO.”

do you ever do anything?  “YOLO.

i’m aware that all those things sound like something shitler would say to me.
or has said to me.  

i will neither confirm nor deny.

YOLO.

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Because I’m Determined To Be A 4%’er


i’m going to train for a 5K.

i know that sounds like an odd thing to say.  like why wouldn’t you say, “i’m going to run a 5K so i have to train for it.”  but i’m not going to over-commit myself and then perhaps not actually run a 5K.  so i’m going to stick with the training part so not actually doing the 5K isn’t such a crushing blow.

but here’s to hoping that i follow through with this.  because it would be a real fuck-you to shitler.  except i fear that i’ll keep this up for like two weeks but then i’ll quit and then shitler might read this during the third week and he’ll be like “see, 3%.”

here are my shoes:

come to think of it – i’m not sure if they’re actually good for running.  but i like the bright colors.  so here’s hoping my shins survive the fact that i buy things based on color schemes.

and also, my first two training days have consisted of 25 minutes alternating between walking and running and for both of those runs i’ve listened to nothing but the following on a constant loop:

i’m just a soul survivor.  leave me alone.

if you have 5K training suggestions – by all means, give them to me.

but in the mean time i have two things to say:

1. i’ve reach the first part in gillian flynn’s newest book that makes you go “what.thefuck?”

2. i watched an especially fucking awesome episode of game of thrones last night.  the one where the blonde chick eats a horse heart and she does it all crazy, cannibal style and there’s blood running down her chin and chest and you think she’s going to upchuck it all but she doesn’t therefore proving she’s insanely amazing.

i think that’s what’s missing with a lot of other shows on television right now.  not enough horse heart chow down sessions.

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Textual Feeling: No, You Can’t Stick Your Finger In There


a quick aside.  in that my day is crap.  but then it gets a little bit better than crap.

when i was little and had pink eye or some other eye infection shit and needed eye drops put in my eyes – all bets were off.  one parent had to hold me still, while the other had to use their fingers to stretch out my eye and put the drops in.  then i would scream like they were dropping acid in my e yes.  to this day, i’m terrible with eye drops and anything eye-related.  which is why i don’t wear contacts.  but then i don’t always wear my glasses so then i get massive headaches and my eye sight just gets worse and worse.  but i just continue suffering rather than do something to remedy the situation.  like just wear my fucking glasses.

is this going somewhere, you ask?

yes.  it is.

for some fucked up reason i could not sleep last night.  it was awful.  the type of “you can’t sleep” that has you staring at your significant other like you’re going to murder them in their peaceful slumber because you’re so goddamn jealous.  

anyway, i slept for an hour.  which was pointless and i should have just stayed up all night because the hour of sleep didn’t do shit except make me crabby, whiny, and psychotic-looking with my red, irritated eyes.  

miraculously, i found eye drops in my purse.

and tried to administer them at my desk.

which was a terrible idea.

because i drained half the bottle because i keep freaking out and missing my eye and squirting it all over my face so it just looked like i was hysterically crying.  

happy fucking friday.

but then seriously.  happy fucking friday.  because i forgot i had this in the freezer:

but now i have gut rot. because i ate too much and too fast.

b: sweet mullets?

me: i want to make cupcakes first.  i’ve had a rough day.

b: can i come over and stick my finger in your better?

me: butter or butthole?  i’m confused.  i’d be pissed either way.

b: batter.

me: no, i forbid it.

b: that’s awfully ride.
b: rude.  goddammit!

me: good job.

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Shitler v. Lincoln


shitler informed me the other night that he would prefer to not be referred to as such anymore.  

i say – if the shoe fits.

let’s take it to the masses.  what do you prefer?

here’s a photo of shitler trying his second bloody mary of all time.  he’s convinced that he needs to start liking them.  even though he doesn’t like them.  

freak.

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