Water Seeks Its Own Level

Allow me to preface this by saying you're judged by the company you keep, at least that's what I've always been told. Growing up, my father tried (God knows how hard he tried) to instill in me the idea that when you do worthwhile things, you meet worthwhile people.

I spent my 20's in dive bars. These are my friends, my "kind of people":

HIS

HERS

They're twisted and inappropriate. They're the life of the party. They're dark and irreverent, and some of them are brilliant. They're harmless. They make me laugh, cuz God knows if I weren't laughing, I'd be crying.

I thought things would change after I quit drinking. I guess you can take the booze out of the girl, but depravity seems inherent. I still gravitate towards people with my same sick sense of humor, my "tribesmen," as I like to call them. Guess I'm a Gary Larson's Far Side kinda gal for life.

I'm a firm believer that every relationship you have with another individual reflects the relationship you have with yourself. Well, I like my friends, goddammit. They're good eggs.

So, as Stuart Smalley would say, seems like, "I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And, doggone it, people like me." And if they don't, fuck 'em. I like myself.

Google Search History Game, or #GSHG

My best friend caught me off guard one day when she grabbed my iPhone and scrolled through my Google search history, revealing that I had recently looked up coupon codes for Adam and Eve, along with other incriminating and embarrassing subjects.

And now it's our favorite game to play. The moment I get the GSH text, I have to take an unedited screenshot of my search history and text it to her, and vice versa.

It's like being caught with your pants down. Please see Exhibit A:

I mean...

GINGERS: The Reckoning

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

So, a girlfriend of mine just texted me a picture of her son, dressed as "Chucky" for Halloween. 

First: No. Chucky was a Ginger to the worst degree, and deserves to be accurately represented. Insults like this only perpetuate the Gingers day of reckoning. I mean, this is a pretty half-assed costume. All I'm saying is that if he showed up on my doorstep, I'd be inclined to withhold candy, on the basis of principle.

Second: Gingers are terrifying. This isn't as much my opinion as it is my mother's. She used to say if she ever had a kid with orange hair, she'd flush it down the toilet. So imagine her surprise when I was born Ginger. It was a scary time… for both of us.

Years later I sent her flowers on my birthday, thanking her for not flushing me. Not the first time I've been called inappropriate, but certainly the first time I've been judged so harshly by a florist.

Customer service isn't what it used to be.

Why You Shouldn't Have Personal Packages Shipped to Work

I received the following email from the mail services department where I work after I had a package with "illicit material" shipped to me at the office. In my defense, the apartment complex I live in has a door code that thwarts FedEx and UPS deliveries more than burglars and rapists. I didn't feel like running an errand (totally defeats the purpose of delivery), so I had my new toy sent to work.

I'm an idiot.