Musical Masochism

I’ve heard this song a bunch of times since That Guy “made it like it never happened and that we were nothing,” and I was perfectly fine. But it just came up on my Pandora playlist and suddenly I’m a weepy bitch over it?

Li’l early for PMS, isn’t it, Body? Though I suppose that would explain the recent irritability, exhaustion, insatiable libido, and mass consumption of salty, cheesy Mexican food with Girl-Scout-cookie chasers. 

This is all fine. (It actually is. It’s out of my hands. There’s literally nothing I can do except “breathe and reboot.” Plus I think I’ve proven I’m stronger than Weepy Bitch, even if on occasion she IS the one who knocks.)

Will wed for Swedish home furnishings.

I’m still in bed under a mountain of blankets — LIKE AN AMERICAN. But I’m listening to a Louis C.K. bit where he says, “Who wants to blow their husband? You want to blow a guy you’ve been dating. And he’s mysterious and you suck his cock and go home. Who wants to blow a guy and then go to IKEA with him?”

Um…*raising hand* That’s, like, my dream. You come here right now and add pancakes to that equation, you’ve got yourself a bride, my friend.