The slightly bad news is that she called her exboyfriend, aka the guy who abused her and threatened to kill himself and did drugs with her. Yeah, he’s a peach. Of course he said he was sorry for everything ever in the whole world and begged her to come back but she didn’t seem overly moved so for now I’ll just say I’m hopeful. The totally not awesome at all news is that he and several of their friends got “fired” by their doctor, i.e. he won’t prescribe them any more pills. They think my sister or my mom reported him, even though they haven’t even reported my sister’s doctor yet, so apparently they may be looking for her. Super. My sister also got fired from her doctor after the hospital sent a report of her ER visit to him to say “Um hi, asshole, we know what you’re doing…” We found that both really amusing and really ballsy of him.

Oh, for those of you who were wondering, if anyone was, I didn’t stop seeing the new guy.  We’re still dating and I think it’s going pretty well, though it has only been 3 weeks. I guess if he sees this and cares to comment, he’s welcome to give his perspective.

Now for the distraction. A friend of mine sent these to me from an acquaintance’s facebook and I laughed for probably 10 minutes. It’s probably not the nicest thing to post them, but there’s a small pretty big part of me that hopes she or someone she knows sees this and realizes that she’s being completely ridiculous and needs to have her copy of Photoshop confiscated. I don’t think these require any individual explanation…

That last one kills me. That color is a) not even a possible human eye color and b) totally outside her irises. Do you guys think she wants greener eyes? I don’t know, I really can’t tell. Apparently she does this to ALL of her photos, and she’s not the only one. Why? I mean, other than to amuse me…

Anyway, back to pretending to work for a few more hours. Hopefully my boss thinks my snoring is just me doing a lot of strenuous lifting or something.

My sister has been progressively losing weight. Like, 30lbs. For a girl who only weighed 120 to start that’s not good. We didn’t know what was going on – the first doctor said diabetes, then changed his mind a couple weeks later. My mom was worried about everything from thyroid problems to HIV. My sister has done a lot of drugs and I’m not sure she’s ever had an HIV test, so yes, it was possible. She seemed to be avoiding going to the doctor and dropping off the face of the earth for days and weeks at a time. Then about a week ago, she stole my mom’s debit card and withdrew $12o from my parents’ account. She paid it back within a couple of days, which basically confirmed that she’s been dealing.

Anyway, long story short, my sister admitted last night that she’s been using again. Heroin, cocaine, oxy, whatever she could get her hands on. She talked to her boyfriend and said she wanted to stop and gave my mom all of her pill bottles and prescriptions, but withdrawals are a bitch and she has to be supervised 24/7 for awhile. I slept with my wallet last night, and I have to keep doing it. My parents may end up canceling their cruise to Alaska in a few weeks, even though they’ve been planning it forever and spent a year of my current college tuition on it. I just want my sister back…

The worst part is that I was on a date last night when I found out. A second date, with a guy I really, really like so far, but I should have been home. He kissed me goodnight last night and I got dizzy and giddy and for a second I forgot about everything else, but then I got home and my mom had taken my sister to the hospital. I don’t know why I thought I could date right now. I feel so selfish that I don’t want to end things with this guy, but I know I should. I don’t know, I’m tired and irrational and clearly not all here. Sad for you, having to read this.

P.S. To the doctor who gave my 24 year old sister a prescription for 300 oxy a month, all based on her claims that she had fibromyalgia? I hope you die. Losing your license is too good for you, you fucking piece of shit. Die. In a fire. Or maybe from me backing my car over you. You had to know, and you still did it. In conclusion, I hope you understand that I really, really hate you.

P.P.S. I may or may not drop off the face of the planet again. I don’t know – I’m sure I should talk about this more, therapy and all, but I’m not sure that I can. We’ll see I guess.

Second item on the agenda: I’ve lost 3lbs but I appear to have gained about 10. I’m not sure where it’s going to/coming from, but my appearance and my actual weight do not match up. Also, I’m hungry pretty much all the time, which is weird because I normally never want to eat when it’s hot. This is the first summer where I’ve been like, “OH MY GOD CARBS AND CARBS AND CARBS AND CARBS! MUST HAVE MORE CARBS!” I have some sort of pasta-based disease that causes me to eat things I definitely should not (see item one) and then 30 minutes later, eat more of them. Last night? I ate half a loaf of garlic bread. And then spaghetti. I went to an outdoor music festival this weekend and it was 90 degrees. For some reason my friend and I decided we should eat Cheescake Factory, of all things, beforehand. And then we died of death. Jillian Michaels, where ARE you?

Speaking of things that do not involve my fat ass except as a spectator, the music festival was awesome. I never knew it existed because I sort of suck at life, but Westword’s Music Showcase is so on my summer calendar from now on. We only managed to see 3 bands, but they were good ones (and probably the only 3 of the bajillion acts that I had heard of – totally unintentional). If you’re bored, check out Tickle Me Pink, Air Dubai, and The Pirate Signal. I actually saw Air Dubai live a few months ago and thought they were great then. Those kids are gooood. I forgot it was obscenely hot and that I was a big puddle of sweat and rocked my face off.

Item four: I still love the Renaissance Festival. I also still wish some people had heard of a bra, but that’s just me. No, seriously, it really was just me. I was the only one wearing one. It’s not a pajama party, ladies. It’s a public place and you’re gonna hurt someone with those things. It’s always the women who look like they stuck 2 massive, unbaked loaves of bread in their shirts too – all floppy and pasty and jiggly. And if you’re offended by that, buy a mirror because you’re probably that woman. Congratulations, you’re making me not want this very historically accurate empanada that I’m eating.

Last thing. I saw the hot homeless guy again. He’s still hot. That’s not the update. Turns out, he plays the harp, which is a really random instrument for a homeless guy to play. He seemed slightly less crazy today too, and actually made non-creepy eye contact. Maybe he realized he should be my boyfriend and he’s trying to sane it up. Next he’ll get a job and a shower. Or, more likely, he’ll continue carting a harp around in his wagon and wearing a ripped sheet on his head. Either way. I swear to god, though, I’m getting a picture next time, even if I have to backtrack and hide behind a bush. Who is he to judge my crazy behavior? Exactly.

Oh, right, hi. Yes, I peace out for like, a million years and then come back manically blogging about my boobs and I don’t know why. I think I put too much sugar in my coffee or too much coffee in my coffee or maybe I’m just so tired that I’ve come full circle to being SUPER FUCKING AWAKE OH MY GOD. I can’t stop my fiiiiingers. Please someone kidnap my keyboard or me or Justin Bieber. Do something.

PEE BREAK!!

I feel better. Oh, right, Vegas recap. Here goes. I drank 2 drinks the entire weekend, was in bed asleep by midnight every night, and went to one bar. Also, I met some very nice people and almost died of scavenger hunt. Exciting, right? My friend Zach came to visit last weekend and we totally did the exact same thing, but with more Wii. I am basically the biggest rockstar you know.

Side note, if anyone comes to Denver, you should totally stay at The Curtis. Zach stayed there and we were both a little bit in love with it. The have a lemonade stand in the lobby on Fridays that benefits their charity of the month, and for any donation you want to make, you can get lemonade, spiked lemonade, or beer. Also, they were like, foisting cookies on us, which was awesome. They had a cartoon hanging above the toilet that said, “My boyfriend ran off with my best friend. Man, I’m going to miss her,” so that completely won me over.

In conclusion, my caffeine just ran out. So, um, bye?

1. They put us in a smoking room, which has resulted in me having a headache since check in.  Is there really no way for a hotel to get it the hell together and determine that they actually HAVE nonsmoking rooms available BEFORE I make a reservation? Oh it’s 2010 and we still can’t do that? Huh. They’re supposed to be switching us later today, and you better believe there will be an unholy shitfit if they don’t.

2. The beds are awful. Sorry, I’m still just cranky about that.

3. Every outlet in the room is so loose that anything we plug in falls out. They have a random extension cord just hanging out behind the table that works, but it appears to be covered in juice, or semen, or something because it’s all sticky. That was a pleasant surprise.

4. The bathroom door doesn’t close all the way. Thank god I’m staying with Mandy, which makes that slightly less of an issue, but I don’t think I”m asking for much when I ask that the doors…work?

That’s all we’ve found so far, but we’ve only been here for about 9 hours. And I know, this is a classic case of White People Problems, but I also don’t think I’m asking too much when I want a hotel where I can sleep and charge my phone and poop without my roommate having to hear it. I don’t give a shit that the furniture is tragically outdated or the carpet has seen better days. Pretty doesn’t concern me. Functional does, and this is not it. And the thing is, I paid the same nightly rate at a Marriott a few months ago, and our room was awesome, so it IS possible. So, Imperial Palace, I want my money and my sleepytime back.

.

.

.

Dear HHG,

Could you try not to be all hot and tanned (which I know is from living outside and all and you can’t actually help that), but also crazy? I don’t know if you’re actually schizo or just faking it, but when you yelled BOO! in that woman’s face, it was, frankly, a little scary. Mostly to her, since I was still about 30 feet away, but you get my point. Maybe. Also? The radio flyer full of miscellaneous crap is a great alternative to the traditional shopping cart. I admire your creativity. However, bringing the wagon into the bagel place makes people nervous. Plus you’re blocking the line, which means I’m stuck with the creepy old guy who is not homeless but still totally creepy and likes to talk to me. Thanks for that. Maybe you could be a little less selfish next time.

Anyway, I think you should just work on the crazy and get a job so it would be socially acceptable for us to make out. But probably take a shower first. I’m assuming that wandering around Denver all day isn’t the cleanest activity. Oh, and if you’re secretly a grad student who’s doing a sociological experiment or something, definitely call me. But still shower first. And lose the wagon.

Love,

The girl you give the stink eye to all the time

**NEWSFLASH**

Sometimes, when someone hates you? It’s justified. For example, I personally love the super perky baristas at the Starbucks in my lobby, but I totally get why my mom hates them. Neither of us are morning people, but the perkiness makes me a little perkier, whereas it just reminds my mom that she’s awake and it’s not pleasant. I get it. She’s not being a hater, she just legitimately doesn’t like it. But see, my mom doesn’t run around hating everyone. She just hates when people are AWAKE in the morning. She even hates me when I try to talk to her; I’ve gotten more dirty looks and crabby “Shut UP”s than I can tell you. That’s fine. Sometimes I talk to her just to piss her off.

I hate people who think they’re entitled to things. Homeless people make me super sad and I wish I could fix all their problems, but the second they start thinking they’re entitled to my money? Um, no hobo, get out of my face. I almost threw down when a guy on the corner outright demanded that I give him money for his “medication.” When I said no, he informed me that I “better watch out for the rain, because when it comes, I’m gonna drown.” Um, right. If I drown, it’ll be in the ocean that I’m visiting with ALL MY MONEY THAT YOU CAN’T HAVE. Same situation with people who expect gifts for the most minor of events. If it’s not your birthday, your wedding, or Christmas, you have zero cause to expect presents; actually, even expecting them for those occasions isn’t ok. I buy people gifts because I want to, and I love giving someone something for no reason, but if you shove a wish list in my face, you can suck it. It’s rude and completely socially inept to pressure people into buying you shit. Veruca Salt anyone?

The thing is, the concept of “haters” implies people who have no reason to dislike someone. People who are like, “I just don’t like so-and-so because I don’t,” are haters. People who say, “This person does this specific thing and it gets under my skin so I’d rather NOT see their face,” are not. And a whoooole lot of the time, people with specific reasons are totally right. If a room clears out as soon as you show up, maybe reexamine your own behavior before you automatically assume it’s just haters. Not everyone has to like you, true. But don’t assume that no one has any reason not to, because assuming that makes you, well, kind of an asshole.

P.S. I totally KNOW people don’t like me. I know that, in a couple of cases, it’s justified and that’s fine with me. This isn’t kindergarten, and I’m a big girl. But seriously Mandy? Stop talking shit about me, bitch. I’ll cut you.**

*I suggest we have licenses for many things. Using the word hater, having children, being in my presence, etc. Any other suggestions?
**This is totally a joke. I love Mandy more than like, 99% of people who have ever existed.

When I last left off, my sister had returned to her old high school for her senior year. Per my ever so subtle foreshadowing, this was a bad idea. Like, really bad. Even after a year away, and sobriety, my sister wasn’t any more popular with many of the girls at her school. Unlike me, though, when someone makes fun of my sister, she’s more likely to make that person cry and/or punch them in the face than to get upset herself. She can be extremely mean, and she’s quick about it. A lot of her senior year was spent fighting in one way or another, which wasn’t great for her school work. She was suspended for a couple of (for her) minor problems and was about to be expelled again, so she dropped out in April, a month before graduation. She took her GED and scored in the 99th percentile on every area, which makes it even more depressing that she couldn’t graduate. My sister’s a goddamn genius.

After high school, she moved in with one of her best friends from her alternative high school. Don’t get me wrong, I like this girl, but she had problems on top of problems. Her dad died when she was young and left her a large trust fund, and her stepdad started getting her high and sexually abusing her when she was probably 11 or 12. She was clean at the time, but a lot of her friends weren’t, and one day my sister decided that meth sounded like fun. Or something. I can’t even claim to understand the thought process there. Meth is the filthiest, most disgusting drug I can imagine, and seeing an addict up close is not pretty.

The next year, we barely saw my sister, and when we did, it was…well, gross. She was always thin, but she dropped to about 85lbs. Her skin was gray, it was clear she never slept, and she said her teeth were getting loose. She never had the sores that a lot of meth addicts get, so it took us awhile to figure out exactly what she was doing; she claimed she was clean, but it was pretty obvious she was lying. My cousin worked for the local police department at the time, and he found out that the drug taskforce was watching the apartment my sister lived in. I think that finally scared her, and one day she called and said, “Mom, I want to come home.” She changed her phone number and didn’t tell any of her old friends where she was. And she ATE. I think she went through more ice cream in the next year than she had in her previous 18 years. (And then she got chubby, which was hilarious.)

She started dating a smart, motivated guy who ::gasp:: graduated from college and got a real job, which we think motivated her to go to cosmetology school. It was like his success made her want to be successful too, and she was. If there’s one thing my sister is good with, it’s hair. Unfortunately, they broke up after about 3 years, and she started dating her current boyfriend. Don’t get me wrong, we get along great, but he also sells drugs. And I know my sister helps. My parents don’t know everything I know, but enough to be concerned when my sister recently lost 20lbs, started sleeping constantly, and having low energy. Oh, and being a total cuntrag when she WAS around. wWe thought she was using again, even though she insisted she wasn’t (yeah, we’d heard that one before).

My sister finally went to the doctor a few weeks ago, and was diagnosed with diabetes and hypothyroidism. She was told she will be insulin dependent within a year, and started taking medication. The big, fat HOWEVER is that the doctor she went to is apparently a fucking idiot, because she called to make a follow up appointment and the receptionist said, “Oh, yeah, he got the rest of your tests back and said you’re not diabetic so stop taking that medicine.” He didn’t call her, didn’t come to the phone to explain, nothing. My mom is a nurse and I thought she was going to commit murder, but instead she made her an appointment with a specialist, because her symptoms are real, and her sugar and thyroid levels are out of control. We still don’t know what it is, so we’re sort of waiting in limbo to figure out what’s really wrong. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it because, when my sister and I got each other’s names tattooed on our backs, we promised we’d add wings if anything ever happened to the other. I’m not getting fucking wings, so she has to be ok. The end.

(Coincidentally, today is also my sister’s 24th birthday, so I’m going to make a diabetic friendly cake (just in case) and thank god I still have a sister, even if she CAN be a total bitchface and make me want to smother her with a pillow.)

SO. The night started out just fine, with a few of us meeting a friend for his birthday. He had a couple of male friends with him, and we were all having a good time, when this girl started talking to one of the guys. She was…huge. Not fat huge, although she was rather overweight. Just enormous, at least 5 or 6 inches taller than him and she sort of looked like one of those people who would Hulk Smash if she didn’t get her way. When she turned around, he asked if one of us girls would help him out. The next time she started talking to him, I stuck my arm through his and politely introduced myself. She got the hint and left,  and I told him he had to do the same for me, since I was certainly not trying to get any numbers. He agreed and for awhile, the plan worked well.

Except.

This particular guy got skeevier and ickier the drunker he got. My friend warned me that he was a douche, but I figured since I had made it clear that I wasn’t looking to hook up with anyone, it would be ok. And it was fine (and helpful since some of the creepiest guys ever hit on me and were turned away by his presence), until he tried to kiss me at last call. I turned my head and said, “Nooo, no thank you. I think it’s time you closed your tab.” I led him to the bar, where he promptly stood behind me with both arms on the bar, and pressed his junk all up against my ass. He actually had the guts to say, “I think you like it a little bit.” I managed to hold my gag reflex in check and mouthed “HELP ME!” to the bartender. The bartender is an asshole, though, and apparently remembered the time last year that I got hammered and threw a penny (or 12) at him to get his attention*, so he took his sweeeet time. Bastard. Meanwhile, Sleazebag McPervertson is trying to lick my neck.

Class, what did we discuss about neck licking?
(Don’t do it!)
Very good! Gold stars for everyone!

So there I am, pelvis thrust forward to avoid his advances in that area, head turned at an awkward angle to avoid that mess, and desperation on my face, and finally the bartender put on his nice pants and came to close the tab. In the meantime, Grossface has picked up a half full beer that someone left on the bar, and drank it. In horror, I asked if he had really just done what I thought he did, and he said, “Yeah, and I’m about to finish this other one too.” OH MY FUCKING GOD! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I wrestled the other beer out of his hand and gave it to the bartender, whereupon Knobgobbler yelled, “Yeaaah! Taking beer away from me, that’s a good way to get a tip!” I almost lost my shit right there. Instead of beating him to death with a barstool, I (relatively) calmly handed him his id and card, turned him around, and ordered him to find the rest of the group. Meanwhile, I added a tip to his tab, and signed it. Illegal? Probably. Ok, definitely. The only possible solution? Pretty much. Fucking jerk. The bartender said he waited to come over because he “thought we were making a connection.” Oh hardy har.

On  the way out, he tried to get my attention, and I quite literally ran across the street. And then I went home and took a shower and scrubbed all my skin off. And made angry snorting noises. And barfed. That last one is a lie.

The lesson is that I should have let Hulk Smash girl have him. I am never being nice to someone again. Ever ever ever.

*Side note: Do not do this. Even if it’s a year later, your hair is grown out, and you don’t think they’ll remember you as that fucking jackass who threw shit? They totally will.

Ok. So. As previously discussed, my sister and I are freaking dorks. I’m worse though. In fact, a large percentage of my friends for the first 15 or so years of my life were friends she made and I knew through her. I’m socially awkwaaaard! As a result, we spent a lot of time together, until she started high school. See, my sister is freaky smart, but school really isn’t her thing. She isn’t a fan of being told what to do and had fairly contentious relationships with a lot of her teachers. She also started drinking around that time. I blame myself for that in a lot of ways, because when I was 14 or 15, I started drinking, so of course my little sister did too. I didn’t expect her to have such an addictive personality, though, and it became a problem for her very quickly.

When my sister was 15, she brought a water bottle full of vodka to school, and drank it in her math class. Let me be very clear – she brought STRAIGHT VODKA to school and drank the ENTIRE bottle. At 7am. She also weighed roughly 90lbs, and the amount of alcohol in her system caused her to pass out. Her friends managed to get her to the bathroom so she could throw up (thank god) and tried to convince her teacher that she just had the flu. Fortunately, her teacher wasn’t a moron and called an ambulance. They pumped her stomach, and her BAC was still .25ish. If she hadn’t thrown up when she did, she very likely would have died. We thought it would be a wakeup call, but it turned out not so much.

Around the same time as the drinking suspension, my sister and I were caught stealing. That’s hands down one of the worst days of my life, and definitely one of the most embarrassing moments. We were both given deferred judgment. I took my theft class, wrote my essay, paid the fines, and never, ever did it again. My sister, on the other hand, got caught stealing diet pills at Safeway the day after Christmas, just weeks after the deferred judgment was finalized. If you take enough of them, you get a decent buzz, I guess. I don’t really know. One of our friends was with her (and was definitely involved) but my sister took the rap and had to do community service at the local VFW, which she spent smoking pot and convincing the veterans to buy her cigarettes.

That spring, my sister went to a friend’s house for lunch, and they drank a beer, I guess. Another student happened to find out, and considering that she hated my sister*, she went straight to the principal. Since it was her second offense, she was expelled from school, and at her court date, the judge ordered her to join AA.

I was finishing my senior year of high school at this point, and while I drove her to her meetings and UAs, I was sort of…disconnected, I guess. I was worried about the very real possibility that I wouldn’t get in to the college of my choice, as well as spending roughly 10-12 hours a day at school between classes, cheerleading, and “improve my college application” clubs, and I don’t remember a whole lot about it. However, I remember that my sister was sober and had completely embraced AA. She started attending an alternative high school and was doing really well. She made new friends, and was generally a more pleasant person to be around.

Aaand then she decided to go back to her old school for senior year, and around the same time decided AA was a cult.

*Actually, a lot of people hated her. Mostly girls. My sister is beautiful, self-confident, and generally a fun person to be around, so of course all the guys wanted to be her friend. Pretty girl with lots of male friends=public enemy number 1 for teenage girls. I never had that problem, strangely enough…