i went wine tasting last weekend and somehow a picture of my butt ended up being taken (because day drunk) and i think it is hilarious. i was going to post it but i know how the Internet works and i know it would affect other people or whatever the fuck. so, because i’m not a dick and i am considerate to other human beings, and since most of the Internet is a dickhead already, i guess i care enough not to.

at the same time, it’s a fucking butt. a great butt. and it’s mine and it doesn’t look a whole lot different from a lot of the other butts out there in the world and it’s all in good fun and fuck all of you cause what the fuck is the big deal? WHO FUCKING CARES?

i’ll moon the fucking camera if i want to. dbags.

not like, without their knowledge or consent or anything… i just want to know.

I fell asleep in the bathtub last night sometime around 3am. I woke up about fortyish minutes ago, cause I’m guessing that’s how long it takes me to shower. oh also, I shower after sitting in my own bath water, regardless the length of time, because I like not being one of those people who smell. also, that’s fucking gross. you basically consolidate your filth and spread it evenly over your body. maybe along with bubbles and some candles, but still gross.

anyway, I woke up because Charlie was scratching the door, and my ears were underwater. he has to poop every morning at 7AM, or whenever I eventually wake up to let him outside. he’s really a great dog in that he holds it because he understands I need my beauty sleep. except that in lieu of scratching the door, he punches it, so with that cool like, next-level audio you get when your ears are submerged under water, I thought someone was shooting the door down with a machine gun.

I slept for 4 hours. I had no intention of falling asleep in the bathtub. but I did. this isn’t the first time it’s happened. and every bath I take is set up in such a way that, if one were to fall asleep, he or she would probably most definitely drown.

I almost drowned at the beach a couple years ago. I had even given up after a certain point. there were no lifeguards and it was early September, and I was alone. I woulda died, but a surfer saved me (which is why I always hang out by the surfers every time I go to the beach alone. but I don’t swim in the surf area cause I know better and I’m not an asshole). I’m pretty sure I was about 3 more doggy-paddle attempts away from death though. his name was Brandon and he played the harmonica and then sang me a song. that was after he tried to call an ambulance for me because I still couldn’t breathe right for about 20 minutes. I was probably bright red, or maybe purple, I just know I had exhausted every last ounce of my body, and it felt like my insides were on fire for some reason. which, by the way, the last thing you want to be thinking before you die, is “man that’s so strange that I’ve unwillingly swallowed and choked on all of this cold pacific ocean, but for some reason my insides feel like fire! so weird! wonder why that happens!”

after he’d carried me to shore, I just kept weakly flailing, in some attempt to say “no, please don’t call an ambulance, they cost money” but there were no actual words. just sounds that sounded like people dying. I’d never been so unsexy in a bikini at the beach ever in my life. and i was fat, once. flailing is bad enough, but barely having the energy to flail? it’s like a fish on land just before he dies. he stops jumping and flipping all high and crazy. they just sort of twitch. it’s sad, really.

if I die in a bathtub, I’m gonna be so pissed.

“he was one of those people, that we are all supposed to be. one of the good ones. one of the few who actually got it right — and taken away far too soon. it’s not a father that’s been lost, not a husband. we’ve all lost someone great today.”