when im high i talk about cancer and herpes and bum everyone out

nursing a gnarly yuppie headache, induced by a lunchtime 'margarona' and tecate. following that adderall i popped just to stay awake after last night's sympathy drinking at tin dog and a brief uneventful night at jackson's that somehow ended at 2:30. i somehow made it to beth's office this morning at 8:15 and articulated my recently anxieties pretty fucking eloquently. i briefly brought up manboy, and was in that moment able to convince myself that i felt very little for him and his personality. unfortunately, convincing myself of that now is a different story entirely, and i've found myself unequivocally 'dick-whipped'.

not sure what my game plan is here, maybe start being addicted to weed so that we have something in common, OR wait to meet a boring vandy guy that has seen the same movies as me. his obsessions with sound and mine with image and video are not really meeting in the middle, and i'm wondering how sustainable this can be even as a friendship. the guys i've been involved with serve as shitty friends but stand-ins for a boyfriend-type that hasn't existed.

i'm obviously gunning for that friendship turned courtship turned failed relationship, but that is seeming less likely, due to my preference for white artist bags of douche.

the latest bag is a 'hard 10' to my 'soft 8'. the intellectual and artistic respect is there, but i'm still navigating the basic compatibility. the type of person that doesn't participate often, but when he does he is fully in charge. seems unsustainable. the age difference (9 years) is substantial, and adds to the dissimilar interests, compounded w his inability to meet halfway on things he is ignorant regarding. PLUS the macro-aggressions that have consistently yet unintentionally reminded me of my 'otherness'. my best bet is to hold out until a real thing happens, but exiting the tinder/okc game has affected both the fish and the sea.

))<>((

if you are mean to me, i will convince myself i want to have sex with you. depending on how good-looking you are, i may or may not be equally mean to you.

i am consciously setting aside 'nice' guys for when i am 29 and boring. until then i want skinny white men to be mean to me and sometimes have sex w me.

can we start saying s l u t again?

after a ~6 month hiatus, i am pleased to announce that my ego is out of control, and has no intention of slowing down, despite the entire month of july. july, the month of july has unexpectedly betrayed me. it started innocuously enough, with somewhat 'riotous' birthday. 8 of my not-really-that-close friends gorged on overpriced sushi and saw a kinda boring phantagram show. at around 11:30 i was gunning to go home and be horizontal alone. after a DOGBOWL detour, i had four beers and ranted about white devilry and feminism to a smattering of ostensibly simple middle-aged men. thus began my month-long drinking problem, culminating in shitting blood and doing bumps in the bathroom of the villager. the same (mens) bathroom where i fellated (lo_l_) a friend i've known for ten years while peeing. afterwards, i was confronted by the twerpy fuckboy that i am currently obsessed with (oof gonna go ahead and end that sentence w a preposition (cannot be bothered)). after being confronted for being a manipulative cunt, i had a brief emotional breakdown and for the first time realized there exists a power yung gurls have over men of any age that allow them (the gurls) to become monstrous, power-tripping, fellating asssholes.

as idiotic and narcissistic as it sounds, i feel as if im getting a crash course in being a 'pretty girl', something for which i am hilariously unprepared. the duality of this is such that on one hand, any man that gives me attention i will flirt with shamelessly (and sometimes naively), and on the other  hand, i will blackout and ruin a stranger's night/week/month 'because i can'.

after cracking somewhat of a code, i have managed to stay out until at least 3 am about 5 nights a week, and existing unsuccessfully in a month-long hangover.

this begs the question, is july the 'real-world'? a world in which I work 2 jobs a total of 7 days a week, one of which is a restaurant where 45% of the employees are high-functioning alcoholics. a world in which i 'work-hard/ play-hard' while doubling up on anti-depressants and make-up remover.