Category Archives: Dear Diary

Dear Diary #2

Dear Diary,

I hate when I’m really hungry and my stomach keeps rumbling and I have to cough to cover it up so people don’t start making jokes about the irony of the hungry fat girl in her corner cubicle, but instead think I’m sick and quarantine me, ultimately making me feel even worse about myself because being fat isn’t the reason people don’t want to talk to me, it’s the fake SARs they think I have contracted which would actually make my whole life easier considering I’d get to stay home from work and wouldn’t have to worry about covering up my rumbling stomach with fake coughs in the first place, and I could just eat myself into a self-hating oblivion, before remembering how crappy it is to have SARs.

I never should have started snorting crack.

Love,

The girl who never really started snorting crack

Dear Diary #1

Today I have done everything a sick person shouldn’t do including shoveling snow in a pair of shorts and eating undercooked chicken. But before that I was at work researching menstrual cups. Yes, menstrual cups. I’m not ashamed. If looking at menstrual cups online at work is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

I left work early because they made me, but also because I wanted to. Because I’m sick and it was snowing and since Pennsylvania likes to pretend it’s a southern state both politically and geographically, no one remembered to salt the roads in advance. So I drove 20 miles an hour the entire way home and as people passed me, I began to resent them for driving faster than me, having more reliable cars than me, and liking their jobs enough to not shop for menstrual cups while they are supposed to be working.

resentment

MSNBC Reports: “Marriage” – Legalized Slavery

Because I don’t have a legitimate parking space at my crackden apartment, I parked in a neighboring bank lot and proceeded to spend ten minutes cleaning off the cars of strangers who wouldn’t do it for me if the situation were reversed. At the time this made me feel like a good person, but now I just feel like a sucker. A sucker without a winter coat, boots, or any redeemable qualities to speak of.

Later in the night I caught up with an old friend via Facebook and discussed all of my life goals, including writing a best-selling novel, which will ultimately get adapted into a movie, with a television spinoff. When asked who I would cast as the lead female, this conversation took place:

Me: “I’d like a relatively unknown woman to fill the part of the lead. I think that would give it more authenticity. Like in Juno.”

Ryan: “Very wise. Just don’t put Michael Cera in it. Please.”

Me: “Oh no. The love interest in my book is highly attractive and confident and doesn’t look like a chicken dressed as a human”

uncanny

uncanny

Then I remembered how bad it feels to contribute nothing of value to the world. So I ate several handfuls of chocolate covered peanuts and determined it will never get better than this.

Love,

The girl who would sell her soul to have soft knee caps, but the market is down and no one wants it