My junk, my junk, my junk is on fire…

I’m shopping online for an ugly sweater for an office party, and came across this dress. It lives in the Target juniors’ department, and…seems to indicate that the wearer’s loins are burning…?

Bold choice, Target.

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.

Disabling enabling

I ran into a former coworker the other day and added him on Facebook, so I guess now Facebook is all, “Hey, we recognize that professional circle! Might you also want to be friends with That Guy?”

No, Facebook. I’ve told you that before. Twice, I believe. But thanks, I felt like feeling weird today. (I have no idea what the feeling is. Not angry, just…weird. Nothing will come of analyzing that NOW, though, so there’s no point — just don’t tell my therapist I said that.)

BRB, going to ruin ALL their chairs.

Oh, cool, OK — mine are heavy, too, and it’s inconvenient and sometimes debilitating and they’re sending me for a just-in-case CANCER TEST, and all sorts of other awful health shit can cause it, but sure, yeah, let’s go with “bad hygiene.” ๐Ÿ–•๐Ÿผ

Via Glamour: Woman Sues Former Employer for Firing Her Over a Heavy Period

Cost analysis of psychoanalysis

I’m going to my scheduled therapy session tonight, but only because if I bail last-minute I still have to pay them. But my brain is being super bitchy about it, presenting a compelling argument that it’s currently preoccupied with “too-busy-at-work stress” feelings, and we don’t talk about those, we eat and drink them, and frankly don’t even care to hear your stupid “healthier coping mechanisms.” Yoga won’t help, blow me.

For the money I’m ’bout to hand this broad, I could consume my weight in froofy martinis and fried food. I’m just saying, from a cost:benefit standpoint, we better fucking solve some big shit this session. I better leave with, like, NO abandonment issues.

Bring it, lady.

“OK, Google — when will you quit bullshitting?”

I often refer to Google as my religion, so I really hope they pull their heads out of their asses here.
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‘Cause, yeah, I can have principles and change my email addresses and use different search engines and storage sites, but…it’s fucking Google. No one cares. I’d be like those assholes who tried to boycott “Hamilton” — sure, sweetie, good luck with that.

Also, I mean…you can’t get that data? Can’t you just Google it?