My friends are mental Wonderbras.

This is the online photo of another swimsuit I bought, and I texted a friend a photo of how it looked on me…

Me: “I’m sending this back. I don’t even know why I bought it. I’m gonna be standup paddleboarding and shit — I need something sportier. But damn, I look CUTE.”

Friend: “You look great and you should keep it and wear that shit every time you go near water.”

Here’s to friends who are more supportive than bathing suits. 🍸

Spackle your feelings with face cream!

Friend: “Do you ever buy new skincare and get super excited to try it, because just maybe it will fix your skin and all your problems?

“I went to Sephora today.”

Me: “Pretty much every time. I’m actually excited FOR you.”

Friend: “I got a sample of this and I’m very excited to try it. [preview ink]”

Me: “Holy shit, I didn’t even click it yet, but fucking TIGER GRASS. NICE.”

‘What IS it?’

‘Fuck if I know, put it on my FACE.’”

Friend: “EXACTLY. It’s the grass of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight…”

Me: “‘It’s only $18! I need it!’

‘Our skin doesn’t even GET red.’

‘SILENCE! I need it!’”

You may be experiencing Paxil Menstrual Syndrome…

Sometimes you know you’re smart, but you’re not QUITE “friend who’s almost done med school and has more experience with psych meds” smart…

“So, hey, what are the odds that 5-ish days without Paxil have made me feel like I have PMS on crack?”

“Very high. Paxil withdrawal blows.”

“Ha, yep, I kinda knew that, just wanted to confirm. 🙂 I’ll go fill the prescription. Jesus, Brain, you could’ve just asked for Starbucks — that would’ve gotten me to Target, and hence their pharmacy, minus the 5 days of internal screaming at EVERY mundane life obligation.”

“LOL. Why’d you stop taking it?”

“Oh, just because I’m ridiculous and ran out. They keep letting us work from home so I keep not leaving the house.”

Christ. I’ll go to Target, man, damn. Ahem… tomorrow, probably…

Come for frivolity, stay for…more frivolity.

I just admitted to not knowing about a particular political issue, and my brain kicked in with, “You know one day your friends are gonna realize how stupid you are and not be your friends anymore, right?”

*sigh* Yes, Brain. You’ve mentioned.

But also? Fuck you, Brain. My friends know I’m the Joey, and they love me anyway — no one’s expecting me to blow their mind with my thoughts on Hamas.

Broken Brain Blues

Post-therapy text to friends:

“BTW, I just got out of therapy and you wanna hear some horseshit? Not only does she want me to be happy and well adjusted, turns out she can’t just ask me a couple questions and fix 40 years of shit in 45 minutes. It’s, like…long-term work? That *I* have to figure out with her help? This is just like all this alleged ‘exercise’ people want me to be doing. UGH.”

P.S. It’s a joke, I knew what I was getting into. But it IS also bullshit that I drew the short straw in the brain department.

This is all true and factual science. *nod*

Text to friends, based entirely in fact and science:

“They put me on the pill and said I could start it whenever, so I did, but I think my body was already preparing its regular PMS festivities, and when I added bonus hormones I fucked up its groove, because now I hate goddamn everything except you guys and Egg McMuffins.”