Not OK, Cupid. Not OK. 

I’m infinitely amused that OkCupid won’t let me re-open my account, at least not right now. There’s some kind of error, so they told me to check back later.

It should be a more detailed error, like, “Are you sure? Remember all those unsolicited offers of butt stuff?”

Yes, OkC, I do, but I need to at least make out with someone soon before I die from lack of kissing, which is a thing that can totally happen, shut up.

Relieving emotional tension < relieving sexual tension. 

Between hormones and holiday stress, I just ended up Ugly Crying over something incredibly stupid, and now my brain is convinced I am unlovable and will die alone. So that’s always fun. I think these particular feelings will need to be handled via pizza.

I almost never cry, so storing it all up for the twice-yearly Ugly Cry is sort of like when I finally get laid — I never realize how long it’s been since I’ve done it, so I just explode from the catharsis of it all. It generally works out much better during sex, but the result is the same: I end up collapsed in an exhausted, lifeless heap. And I feel a lot better. And I demand snacks.

Unexpected Pixar rage. 

I’d steeled myself to feel all the feels and FINALLY go see Inside Out.

But what I did NOT prepare for was the bullshit short cartoon they showed before the movie. It was about a lonely boy volcano, with a face, looking for volcano love, singing an insufferable song about being a lonely volcano and not being able to find a lady volcano.*

Now I have a goddamn VOLCANO reminding me that I’m dying alone?! A VOLCANO needs a soulmate?

Thanks for reminding me I’m at the movies alone, Bitch Volcano. Maybe you need to look inside yourself for validation — did you ever think of that?

Pixar can go fuck itself. In 3D.

* “Lady volcano” is my new favorite euphemism for my vagina.

Eat, NAY, Love

“Maybe I won’t get married. Maybe I’ll do one of those Eat, Pray, Love things… Ugh, no, I don’t wanna pray — forget it, I’ll just die alone.”

— Mindy Lahiri