Last night was so chock-full of sloppy-drunk-half-naked-bitches, fist-fighting, hair pulling, beer-stealing, crackwhores, and angry drunks it’s not even funny (read: Extremely laughable, but insanely fucked up). 

I was ready to break my beer bottle on a table and straight up back-alley hobo brawl whoever got in my face first, but looking back, I’m hysterically internally laughing at how much awful business went down. I’m gonna miss this shit when I’m old.

But someone drank my beer, and someone took my 40 away, and for this, I’m still seething! 

I’m stackin’ up my good karma points for the month though this weekend. After being in a top-of-my-lungs screaming match with the aforementioned half-naked, vagina-flailing, biting, rabid drunk chick for a few hours, having never met her before in my life, I drove her sorry ass home, and her car too, and she will wake up and have zero recollection of this today, and will never thank me, or know my name. Maybe I’ll narrowly escape death today in return, or something. And today, I’m giving my ex a ride after not speaking to him for months, BECAUSE FOR A FEW DAYS I HAVE A SOUL - but after this weekend, I’m returning to bottomless black hole status. Don’t worry. Fuck all ya’ll.

(Source: nomadicstatic)

Do you have those days where you just wake up INFURIATED with everything and everyone and every square inch of the universe around you? I think I only get this when I’m well-rested, because when I’m in the throes of exhaustion, I’m generally just compliant and accepting of my fate. I sit at my little 9-5 and I work real hard, and I chug coffee every morning, and I sit in rush hour traffic, and I see all these horrible accidents at 6 in the morning when I shouldn’t even be CONSCIOUS in the first place, and I come home, and I’m too tired to go out, and I make myself some boring, low-calorie fuckin’ dinner, and I read some books until I pass out, and it’s this meaningless cycle of shit.

And then there are days like today where I turn into a lunatic. I want to take every human being who complains about trivial things, or things they want to change but make NO EFFORT to do so, and shove them all in an air-tight room to fucking yap and yap and yap mindlessly until they suffocate from the lack of oxygen. I’m so fucking tired of sitting around/listening to gossip, and idle banter about who fucked who, and who’s doing this scandalous thing, and how so and so’s cheating on their boyfriend or girlfriend, because not only does it kill what little faith I have left in vile humans, but I just don’t CARE. I’ve had it up to the gills with society’s fascination with sex. The only reason people have hang-ups about who’s a slut, and who’s a virgin is because of media brainwashing, and how if you’re not ACTIVELY SEXUAL, BUT NOT SO ACTIVE THAT YOU’RE FUCKING PROMISCUOUS, JUST THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF SEX WHICH IS THE EQUIVALENT OF TRYING TO TURN THE SHOWER DIAL TO THE EXACT RIGHT TEMPERATURE BETWEEN SCORCHING HOT AND FUCKING FREEZING, then you’re a broken human being ostracized from the rest of the planet. In the fucking scheme of things, it matters not. 

I don’t like the feeling of being defeated. I don’t like the thought of having the same job, or at least one I don’t enjoy, for years upon years, or even a decade. The thought of falling into some safe routine like that terrifies me. How you have to put on a happy work face, and have a happy phone voice, and sit around and discuss your weekend to perfect strangers at the water cooler, and smile until your fucking face cracks, and have matching socks, and don’t express any true opinions, and always agree with your boss, even if you’ve completed more education courses than they have. It’s like some royal-boot-licking shitfest, and I don’t want any part of it.

Not saying I want to end up some 35 year old, broken-souled panhandler on a NYC subway line, shanking old women for 10 bucks to buy a subway sandwich, I just don’t want my spine cracked and spirit broken until I’m out of my 20s or 30s. Growing up eventually is inevitable, but I don’t want to meet the person I’m going to marry with this sour outlook on the world, with the spirit and aggression beaten out of me. I hope if someone else is reading this, and they’re in the same boat, or on the same elevator, or in the same business casual clothes, that they take something from it and get the fuck out while they still can.

(Source: nomadicstatic)

‘Twas such a rad fucking day.

Perfect weather, perfect timing, perfect local flavor all day long! Finally got to check out Obscura antiques and oddities after a year of meaning to go, and though it was tiny, it was still a major accomplishment. Wandered around St. Marks, bought some tacky fuckin’ pink leopard sweater from Search & Destroy, some tacky 5 dollar sunglasses, drooled over shoes at Trash & Vaudeville, the usual stops I get to when I do make it to the city.

And The Adicts were fucking flawless. I never do pits, or get near them, because my body can’t handle crowds without going into panic attack mode, but I ignored that and tango’d, circle pitted, danced with the man of my dreams, and knocked 6 grown ass men to the floor… then we had to literally SPRINT several packed city blocks through Times Square in under 10 minutes to catch the last bus back home, and by some FUCKIN’ stroke of luck, we made it. And I am going to have the most severe, sore, exhaustion-hangover tomorrow when I have to wake up at 6AM for a 10 hour work day. I GIVE NOT A FUCK.

(Source: nomadicstatic)

“People had been working for so many years to make the world a safe, organized place. Nobody realized how boring it would become. With the whole world property-lined and speed-limited and zoned and taxed and regulated, with everyone tested and registered and addressed and recorded. Nobody had left much room for adventure, except maybe the kind you could buy. On a roller coaster. At a movie. Still, it would always be that kind of faux excitement. You know the dinosaurs aren’t going to eat the kids. The test audiences have outvoted any chance of even a major faux disaster. And because there’s no possibility of real disaster, real risk, we’re left with no chance for real salvation. Real elation. Real excitement. Joy. Discovery. Invention.

The laws that keep us safe, these same laws condemn us to boredom.

Without access to true chaos, we’ll never have true peace.

Unless everything can get worse, it won’t get any better.”

- Choke, Chuck Palahniuk

(Source: nomadicstatic)

Dear Tumblr,

“My generation, all of our making fun of things isn’t making the world any better. We’ve spent so much time judging what other people created that we’ve created very, very little of our own.”

(Source: nomadicstatic)

I don’t do drugs because I don’t need mescaline to hallucinate. If I have to be alone with my own thoughts, I’d at least like those thoughts to be my own. When I’m an old cranky asshole, I want to be able to vividly recall every stupid thing I did in my heyday, and the face of every human I ever loved.

Users always claim that they fuck themselves up because they need an escape, they can’t deal with real life, they’re desperate, they don’t care if they die. I don’t want to disguise or obliterate my anger, my hopelessness, my desperation - I use my anger as a driving force, I like when it’s just myself and my raw emotions in a room. I’d rather be frustrated or broken-hearted than in a fog. I don’t want my defense mechanisms to get lazy, I keep them on their toes at all times, they’re always on call.

(Source: nomadicstatic)

Current state: Woke up not knowing where my car was, or my purse, or my best friend, or how I got home, with my makeup and clothes on, straight up SPRAWLED out on my beanbag chair, all the lights on, one creeper half-assed half-untied, dangling off my foot, three missed calls, four texts, two voicemails and a partridge in a pear tree, in a panic because I thought my septum ring got ripped out, BECAUSE THAT’S THE FIRST THING I CHECK ON AUTOPILOT WHEN I WAKE UP? Priorities, Jess, priorities… 

I never want to be as drunk as I was last night ever again. I constantly deal with my friends when they’re in that state and I don’t know how they fucking do that repeatedly without dying. BUT ALCOHOL SUSTAINS ME, I napped for under four hours, woke up without a hangover in sight, and I’m ready to fuckin’ do this shit today! I’m either feelin’ really great, or I’m still drunk, I haven’t decided yet.

(Source: nomadicstatic)

If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.

(Source: nomadicstatic)