i don’t have a smartphone so i still use t9 (remember that?) to text with. not only do i have a phone that still uses that function, the phone itself is a piece of shit touch screen phone (YOU WERE RIGHT BRANDON) that barely responds to my fingertips when i touch it. i have to basically stab at it with extreme dexterity in order to get it to type the words i would actually like it to type. this problem is getting progressively worse and worse. texting for the past six months has been nothing short of a chore for me. i tried to get a new phone from tmobile, but they won’t unless i renew my contract for another two years, and i’m not certain how much i want those mofos hanging around in my near future. also they just didn’t have anything i’d even remotely be interested in affording. i hunted ebay and other sites for phones for a while and then, in typical shauna fashion, just lost interest and moved on.
i’m so glad i did, because i now have the honor of owning a phone that instead of inserting the word “schedule” in the space where i attempt to type it, it inserts the word “raped”. really, when i pause to think about it, it’s perfect in a lot of ways, especially considering i work in retail management. i get to make all sorts of awesome and not in the least bit embarrassing types of mistakes to my boss and staff.
needless to say, i’m back to looking for a new phone.
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aim: withoutyoume
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i’m laying in bed, unshowered in sweats, crying on the kitty and listening to nothing but for emma, forever ago.
this feels familiar.
![thedailywhat:
Infographic of the Day: Using geo data from photos uploaded by users to Google’s Panoramio, Sightsmap generates an interactive heatmap of the most frequently photographed spots around the world.
[petapixel.]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ly9p7tRBAm1qzpwi0o1_500.jpg)
Infographic of the Day: Using geo data from photos uploaded by users to Google’s Panoramio, Sightsmap generates an interactive heatmap of the most frequently photographed spots around the world.
[petapixel.]
(via ilovecharts)
ray and i are spending today in bed listening to TAL.
not bad, not bad at all.
i don’t get how anyone wanted to be friends with me in early college when i looked this dumb.
it’s stupid, i know, but i’m definitely finding that i’m the most depressed on my days off.
2011 NFL Rankings by ESPN
I like to get together with some internet pals over at Fark to discuss ESPN’s rankings every week. We were always complaining about how erratic they seemed, so I decided to start graphing the new rankings every week. This is the final product for this regular season. Teams are sorted on the left by their Week 1 rank. Sorry if it makes everyone go cross-eyed. That’s kind of the point. :)
I want to be your friend.
these are some of my favorite photos of 2011… or at least the few that tumblr would let me upload at once.
happy christmas!
seriously i fucking hate being on my period.
all i feel like doing is crying, hating everything and everyone, stomping around angrily, kicking things, pouting, exclaiming how much no one understands me and spitting. i also feel fat and hideous and i don’t know how anyone can look at me without wanting to gouge out their eyes and then step on them til they’re flat as pancakes. my body hates me. i feel like i turn into a screaming two year-old with a serious lack of discipline, except uniquely, i’m very aware of what a monster i’m capable of being, unlike aforementioned two year-old.
i just want to lay in bed and not move and be alone and cry.
but in actuality i don’t want to be alone at all.
or to be crying.
i just really like my bed.
*stomp stomp stomp*
Annnnd here’s a post that is NOT a guest post (in that it was written by me) because I saw a picture of a puppy today and felt benevolent.
Christmas Music
Jesus fucking Christ, I hate Christmas music. Yeah, that’s right. I took the Lord’s name in vain, and I’ll do it again, too. Seriously, some of that shit is the most disturbing fucking garbage ever. I mean, take “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.” Really? We’re all supposed to feel all holly and jolly listening to some jam about an old person being mowed down by a horned beast? The mental image of her bones crunching under Rudolph’s galloping hooves is enough to put me off my Christmas dinner. If I manage to make it dinner this year. Last year I just got super drunk, argued with my uncle about whether or not Obama is a real American citizen, and retreated to my horribly preserved childhood room. The dust of childhood is insidious… But I digress.
“I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”? For real? What child of divorce would ever utter the words: “Oh, what a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night”? Are you shitting me? That would have been fucking traumatizing. Like that scene from IQ84. (I won’t explain. Read the fucking book.) Your mom is cheating on your dad with an obese mythilogical creature? Oh, yeah, that’s fucking hilarious. Maybe Santa can bring me $1,200 so that I can cover my therapy costs this year. That would be nice.
And don’t even get me started on “Baby It’s Cold Outside.” “Say, what’s in this drink?” Yeah, that would be roofie, honey, enjoy your unwanted Christmas child. God, it’s like all these songs are just super sinister subliminal messages that serve to explicate the horrors that are everyday life, packaged in bright, shining boxes that only belie their utterly macabre inner workings. Merry fucking Christmas, baby.
Now, if you would excuse me, I have to go write another think piece about Odd Future via my Facebook status. It’s almost 2012, at which point that shit will be even more irrelevant than it already is.
(Photo)
