Me: “I think I’m not as gross as I used to be.”
Friend: “What do you mean?”
Me: “I don’t have an ice cream shirt anymore.”
Friend: “What’s an ice cream shirt?”
Me: “You know, it’s like a shirt you wear while you’re in bed, watching TV, and you’re eating ice cream, probably straight out of the container, and if a little bit falls onto the shirt it’s like whatever, just scoop it up and eat it anyway.”
Friend: “…I was taking my sheets off the bed to put in the wash, and I found dried up barbecue sauce on them.”
Last night at the bar, one of our regulars was stupid drunk and being gross with a new bartender. When her shift ended she left right away, and as soon as she was out the door, the regular turned to his friend and said, “I would crawl on my hands and knees through a desert of hot sand and broken glass just to sniff the tire tracks of the van that drove her panties to the dry cleaners.”
I’ll never understand straight men.
Here’s a post.
An old tumblr friend who isn’t on tumblr anymore was in town for a work conference, and we met up yesterday evening for coffee. It was nice—we talked for a couple hours, caught up on what was different/the same in each other’s lives. We talked about dating. I told him being single has been working better for me, because whenever I try dating someone, about a week into it I start to get annoyed—who is this person trying to take up all my free time and why won’t they go away?
I ended things with one of the last guys I dated by watching a new episode of Game of Thrones without him.
I just remembered that I have half a brownie in my backpack.
I can mush up a brownie and put it on top of ice cream, sit in my bed and eat it at 12 a.m. and not have to share it with anyone, and that means so much to me.
Coming out of seclusion/quarantine and being social again has meant dealing with seeing a lot of friends and hearing them say, “Did you lose weight? You look so good!” And having to reply, “Thanks? I was really sick and thought I was going to die.” So that’s been fun. I know they mean well, though.
When I work at the bar, I’m not as strong as I used to be. I was hauling kegs one-handed, and now I’m s t r u g g l i n g two-handed to get those bastards out front.
I feel like I can get back to how things used to be, though. It’ll just take a little time. And a lot of food. It’s a really good excuse to get back on my “Eat a gigantic burger four times a week diet.”
Today someone told me I looked “too cool” to be thirty. I don’t know what that means, but I guess I’m okay with it.
The last post I made was over a month ago, on the night of my birthday. There’s a good reason for that—I got very sick soon after that, then I got a little better, and then I got very sick again. When I finally started getting better—again—it was a long, strange recovery, and I wasn’t feeling enough like myself most of the time to put any effort into the things I normally enjoy.
I’m good now, although I need to put on some weight. I lost 12 lbs, and I miss my butt.
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