Knot Watt Ewe Think: Photo Annex

I can’t decide on a hairstyle.

If I had my druthers and *wanted* to be unemployed, I’d get a pixie cut with enough length on top to faux-hawk, bleach it white and then dye it all a very hot pink, or maybe a royal blue.  Since my ship still hasn’t come in and I have to earn money to pay bills and eat and stuff, it’ll probably just be another (beige) permutation of what it is now, left undyed in its natural state - beige. (Beige… I think I’ll paint it beige…) 

I realize it’s far too late for me to rebel, I’m too entrenched into things I’ve been told that I “need”, like health insurance, retirement savings and a vague sense of job security (that last one was a joke - there is no job security).

I should have done it 15 years ago when I had less to lose. I really, REALLY wish I could have cool hair sometimes.  It wouldn’t affect my ability to do my job, but it would (apparently) severely affect my coworkers’ ability to take me seriously (if the employee handbook is to be believed - there is actually a line in there that says that no one can color their hair to a color that doesn’t occur naturally on a human head. Srsly).  :(  Ah well.  I suppose I’ll cry myself to sleep on my warm, comfortable bed, surrounded by things that I bought with money I earned.  I know it’s a First World Problem, I do. I know it’s a really stupid, entitled first world problem, and I should really build a bridge and get over it, but I feel a real sense of shame at being so unremarkable.  You know?  Like I’ve disappointed my parents, my teachers and professors, and my friends, mentors and anyone who ever thought I might “go somewhere” in every way. I’m not “successful”, as they define it (i.e. filthy rich or a captain of industry), and I’m not a “rebel” or a crazy awesome famous artist type.  I’m just a middle-of-the-road, middle-of-the-class, average lady.  Yes, I have a job, yes, I have a nice rental in a safe part of town with a whole room just devoted to my various and sundry hobbies, and the time to actually do those hobbies, which I waste to write whiny soliloquies on a website read by teenagers instead of actually applying those hobbies.

I’m still just average.  I feel like Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront,  ”I coulda been a contenda, but instead I’m just a bum.”  A beige, boring, middle class bum.  Wholly unremarkable. Entirely forgettable. Dull. How badly do I wish that I wasn’t dull. 

Does anybody have a really good ‘middle finger’ gif?  Because I’m about a hairsbreadth away from deleting all of my accounts off of here.  FUCK. YAHOO. 

Big Weekend!!

I was a booth-babe at Dallas Comic-Con this weekend, and in 2 days, I earned enough to pay for my whole Taos trip!!!  WOOOTY!

Besides one sad girl who needed to flop her sci-fi dick on the table and let EVERYONE know that she was a superfan and that OMGYOU’REONLYAFANIFYOU’REASUPERFANANDANYONEWHODOESN’TLIKETHETHINGILIKEASMUCHASIDOISAPATHETICLOSERFACEHAWHAW, it was a super fun weekend filled with super cool people and fun times.

To sci-fi dick-measuring girl, all I can say is, “bless your heart”.  She’s a sad, lonely, desperate hot mess, and I hope she finds some happiness in knowing EVERY element of every piece of sci-fi in which she partakes.  Because her method of telling everyone how she’s a better fan than they are is not winning friends or influencing people, except to influence them to think that she’s an asshole. But oh well.  

angrybisexual:

Saying casual sex destroys your ability to form meaningful romantic relationships is like saying that talking to a stranger a the bus stop takes away the meaning of your friendships.

(via sunnymegatron)

COSMO SEX TIP #8329

arekelly:

Instead of moaning during climax say “Flash 9 required for audio”.

AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA 

But seriously. Protip.

(via lacigreen)