Cookies and Cannibalism also pain *

Just made DW (whose real name is Ben, let’s stop fucking around here) some goddamn shortbread cookies as a welcome-to-your-new-apartment present because i am a PROFESSIONAL AWESOME PERSON.

Just FYI, these are the best goddamn shortbread cookies you will ever eat ever.  They are made of magic and simplicity and also some ingredients I GUESS.

They taste like eating your childhood, except flakier.  It’s like EATING CHILDREN WITH DANDRUFF.

Except not gross.

Anyway I did four motherfucking loads of laundry today, guys.  FOUR.  MOTHERFUCKING.  LOADS.  God I’m good at being a home…maker…body… Homemakerbody.  But only one day out of every six months.  The rest of the time I watch porn and pretend I will one day have the emotional energy to pursue my dreams.

Did I have a point?  Probably not.  I don’t really remember why I’m here.

Probably because my back is super pissed about all the shit I’ve done today and there reaches that point where I can’t pretend the pain’s not happening and should reasonably sit down or something.

When did that shit happen?  When did I develop an adult body, i.e., a shitty body that doesn’t like it when I do things?

I guess it was a slow progression that will only get worse throughout the years, but at the moment I’m just like… Dude.  If I’m already in constant, low-to-middling levels of bodily pain, I can’t really expect to be happy for much longer and I’ll probably be praying for death by 40.

It’s not some sort of serious illness, mind you.  I just stress via subconsciously tensing muscles in my neck/back/hips/ass until I just feel… moderately shitty all the time.  And sleeping seems to make it worse.

But I dunno.  I can’t really say whether this is abnormal or if it’s just… Life as an adult who has jobs that require you to move (or not move) your body in ways that cavemen probably didn’t, and besides, cavemen died at 40 anyway so it’s not like a few back twinges at 24 were considered unusual so I should just suck it up and recognize that life is an unending parade of meaningless horrors, including bodily pain that starts at 20 and gets worse and worse every day until it outweighs your will to live.

Or maybe I should go to a chiropractor.  WHO KNOWS.

Man, I hope this shortbread is awesome.  I wish my oven temperature regulated better.  It usually cranks itself anywhere from 25-75 degrees higher than it’s supposed to be.  English (who is only still English and not RealName because he bitchmoaned about me not being anonymous enough, or for that matter, keeping a semi-public diary where I mentioned him at all, and for all I know he still reads this whenever it’s public.  Also I’m just respectful of people’s boundaries n’ shit.  It IS the internet, for christ’s sake, so it’s a fair request that I not use his name) and whoa I just tangented myself into a corner.  What?  Right!  So when English came by to cook a turkey with me (fun-ass times), he bought a bunch of thermometers for my oven/fridge/freezer.  But he bought them in flippin’ Canada so they’re all in Celcius so I have to convert the temperatures via Google whenever I check it and also dudes.  I recognize that Celcius makes way more logical/mathematical sense, but do the gaps between numbers have to be SO huge?  Like, when I’m looking at a temperature gauge and it’s kinda hovering between 140 and 145… In Celcius, that’s a HUGE temperature difference when you’re baking something touchy.  I feel like Celcius could use another digit, tbh.  I’d be cool with ridiculously high numbers if it means being more specific.

Jess, you are talking about fucking temperature measurements now.  Shut up and do something else now, like drink until you die.

Oh, weight update: I haven’t weighed myself because owning scales is for suckers but I feel like I’m eating more, HOORAY. Did I mention how weird it is to have an appetite again?  It’s like I fucking forgot what it felt like and now every time I’m hungry I’m like "lolwhaaaaat?!"  Also I latch onto it like a fucking lifeline because I’m so terrified that one wrong move will shut it off again.  And sometimes doing/eating the wrong thing DOES turn it off again, but so does freaking out about it, so basically I’m fucking myself over by giving too much of a shit.  Blehgakhfkzhf.

Also: I feel like no matter what, I’ll never be happy with my body.  I’m underweight right now and I look gross to myself.  Like a tween boy in a skirt.  But if I gain ten more pounds all I’ll see is my stomach, with its minuscule pinch of flab hanging over the pants that makes me OMG SO UGLY.  And I’ll think to myself, well, at least I have my ass back, but my stomach is gross.  Whereas right now I’m lamenting the loss of the only body part dudes ever comment on.

SHUT THE FUCK UP BRAIN AT LEAST YOUR BODY IS NOT THREATENING TO DIE FROM MALNUTRITION ANYMORE, HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT THAT THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT.

Okay, leaving for realsies now.  

P.S. if Ben bitches out on plans with me after I made him PROBABLY AMAZING cookies, I will murder him to death.

EDIT: Ben didn’t cancel (god it feels so weird and wrong typing his real name in anything other than a chat window with my brother) but I miiiiiight have pre-gamed a little too hard and he wants to go to late night happy hour.

Ha ha whatever, it’s Saturday.  As long as I don’t get annoyingdrunk, should be fine.