I don't know what's going on, but hey I'm here

Just came home from a dinner party with the friendgroup at which several people kept saying "Ask Pedro" or "Pedro will know" and I was terrified that they were referring to an AI like Claude but no, thank fuck, they were referring to a cardboard cutout of Pedro Pascal that someone left upstairs and who has been designated a kind of patron saint status in the household.

It's spring now which means the kids in my city have started drawing hopscotches on the sidewalk and as a rule I do every hopscotch I see because 1. Use it or lose it (ability to scotch) and 2. If a child got down on the hardscrabble streets of Boston Massachusetts to draw a scotch the least I can do is use it, but in doing the hopscotches, I've learned that about 50% of them are the typical 8-10 step scotch and the other 50% are. Somewhat avant-garde. And of course I'm not vetting the entire scotch before I start it so sometimes it's like haha 8 steps woo! Childlike whimsy! And sometimes they're 20 steps or 30 or they've got a section with three squares instead of two where you have to do a little Charleston to step on all three, or, memorably, FORTY one foot squares. A full BLOCK of jumping on one foot but I'm no quitter so once I've started Jigsaw Junior's fuckin hopscotch gauntlet I'm there til the end just a daily pot smoker in her thirties jumping kasa-obake style through an affluent suburb while some little proto-kennedy watches from his bedroom window rubbing his sadistic little third grade hands together and cackling. It's amazing. I love spring.

by the fourth or fifth time you "come back wrong" no ones even impressed anymore

abandon shame. theres more interesting emotions to be felt

unless its getting you off. in that case keep going

The best part of getting older is aging out of the demographic that gets killed in horror movies. I am now the age of the kooky local at the gas station who warns the band of college kids not to go to Camp Murderblood

[ID: text reading: i wrestle with the knowledge that the grief will always be longer than the time I had known you. End ID.]

i will never get sick of pitching shitty early 2000s high school romcoms of books that should never be made into high school romcoms

character will get 10x hotter with the addition of blood btw. bonus points for disheveled hair, untucked clothing, and glazed, feverish eyes.

I bet queerbaiting feels so good. it’s a shame I’ve already established myself as a lesbian who writes gay shit because I’m just imagining the high I would get from writing something where my audience has no expectation of anything more queer than the barest of crumbs, like the real top shelf queerbaity stuff, give them no faith that I’d ever follow through but also give them plenty of material to imagine, and then slap them in the face with the queerest faggiest ending they’ve ever seen. Make my straight fans look like absolute clown shoes. I think the rush I’d get from doing this would be so intensely addicting that it would briefly fix everything wrong with me but since this is a stunt you’d only ever be able to pull off once I would immediately go into cardiac arrest and die

usually when you have a stomach bug your body is like yes sir we'll get this punk out of here, 48 hours tops. then you get a cold and your body is like I dunno ... between a few hours and eleven months ... maybe a week minimum .... you gotta understand we're short staffed

I've got to find myself more macrophage

Now Hiring: macrophages

immunesystem.com/careers/macrophage

it’s so funny when someone goes from being a lesbian to being a bisexual trans guy bc it’s like ok so the attraction to men was there but you had to make your way through the labyrinth and solve the riddles three before it could be unlocked