by Helen
1 comment

i love dive bars

I can't stand girls. They're so annoying.

I especially hate the ones who pretend to enjoy things so they sound cooler, when in actuality their only interests are the Real Housewives and the number of 'likes' on their new facebook profile picture.

Like these stupid ass girls in Philly who say, "I love dive bars!"

No you do not. You moronic, fake, annoying waste.

You are wearing 5-inch patent leather peep-toe pumps, you are carrying hairspray in a handbag that costs more than my entire wardrobe and there's still a stamp on your hand from Whisper last night. You do not like dive bars.

In fact, you hate them. You think they smell and are dirty. You are disgusted by the bathrooms and the creepy old men. You don't even like beer let alone cheap, shitty beer from a pint glass with lipstick still stuck to it from the last person who drank from it. Probably a hooker. The level of darkness fightens you. Everyone is staring at you! Why are you lying, you idiot? I hate you.

by Helen


I am attempting to grow things, yikes! This could end up being a total disaster.

If you don't already know, I'm not exactly Susie Homemaker. In fact, I'm probably the opposite. I've never been able to picture myself as some magnificent housewife, and I do not aspire to be one.

So what!? Does that make me a bad person?

This brings me to a story. I once helped my friend bake cookies for his coworkers. We wrapped them up in plastic baggies in stacks of 5 or 6 cookies, and then decided we'd tie a little bow around the top of each one. When it came to the bow part, clumsy old me couldn't figure out how to make it look pretty. Then he said,

"You're a girl. Aren't you supposed to know how to do these things?"


And then I thought: what things, exactly, am I supposed to know how to do? If I can't tie a pretty bow, does that make me an inadequate female?

And it doesn't stop at bows. I can't cook, can't sew a damn thing (I'd probably just hurt myself), I can barely put my little cousins hair in a ponytail, my interior decorating skills are pitiful, the thought of having children kind of freaks me out (especially the being pregnant part, gasp!) and I certainly have never attempted gardening.

This is not wife material folks. I guess if I can't make up for my lack of girl-ness in other areas of my life, I'm going to make some man very unhappy some day, huh?

Well, at least if I fail with the gardening... I'll only be left with dead plants. I can live with that (although I will be sad).

tomatoes week 1

tomatoes week 2 (success!)