To make a long story short, I added this account to the one I first made three years ago and I didn’t realize I couldn’t change default blogs and it really just made my whole dashboard/posting in general really confusing because I had two blogs going on and the one I wanted to be the main one was sidelined. Actually, that was the whole story. Anyway.
So I had to remake. I’m at filleosophy.tumblr.com, where I’ll be updating now, and renamed this one to otherfilleosophy.tumblr.com. If you want to follow me, please unfollow me here and add/readd me over there. This will be my last post on this account!
I’m sorry. I know I am an idiot.
It’s like, why have a cheat day when you can just have a cheat year? It’s working well for me.
I need to stop saying I’m going to do things after a cigarette because the amount of time it takes to smoke a cigarette has a lot in common with the amount of time it takes to realize I really, really don’t want to do that thing I was going to do after all.
My friend explaining her night of cradle-robbing while on vacation in one of the Carolinas (I have a challenged memory).
One life skill I’ll never have totally down is eye contact. I just don’t get it.
When I was 14, I went on a date to the movies with this guy I thought was vaguely cute. He shaved his legs because he was a biker, but it was fine. It showed commitment. Plus, he was on a date with me, the girl whose hair texture still hadn’t fully recovered from her seventh grade perm, so I wasn’t exactly in any position to be picky. As the movie progressed, so did the rate at which he kept popping breath mints — a sure sign that he was ready to get it in. “It” being his tongue. In my mouth.
I sensed it coming, and I was having a diva-scale freakout in my head. I had kissed guys before, being the good mix of modern/confused girl that I was and continue to be, but for some reason I just really didn’t want to kiss this dude. So I sat with my eyes firmly focused on the film, all the while thinking please don’t kiss me please don’t kiss me please don’t kiss me. And it worked! He never made his move. All because I didn’t look at him. Score. For me, anyway.
So I’m acquainted with the basics of eye contact and that the absence of it can get you out of unwanted make-outs. But that’s really where my expertise ends.
I found this sweet watch in a magazine while my car was getting serviced yesterday. At only $23,900, how can I not? Let’s just say I think I know what my boyfriend is getting for our anniversary on Monday.
Disclaimer: Those are not my hands.
What came first — the adult or the adult apartment?
I just don’t think you can be an adult until you’re living in an adult environment, so I think it’s high time that we put our spray-painted furniture up for grabs on Craigslist, move out of our studios, and kick off this journey to our bleak futures with an adult apartment. The rest will come with time. Or with wine, a beverage highly favored by adults such as yourself. As you can see, there’s no losing team in this game.
