on coping and gallows humor

By -


life can be a beautiful experience or a churlish horror movie… or something in between… & navigating it can be easier with a healthy dollop of gallows humor to give it some sazón.  medical waste, blood, guts, puke, vampire skin, & enough gore to make you wanna vom (which is gonna hurt because puke has already been listed)?  that's my reality on certain days, and maybe yours too if you live with a chronic illness.  if you’re gonna go through it, you can choose one of two ways: bitching and complaining, or not bitching and complaining. i wanna do both, depending on the day.

my writing's got a bit of everything – a little yuck, a little yum, a little sh1tj1zz.  sex references? okay, why not?  fucking is a biological function just like pooping and eating. sex is part of life, & i see no point to not acknowledging that.  i'm not trying to be provocative or make life into porn; i'm being honest. it exists, as do the rest of the weirds of life. so if you're ready for a gnarly experience, let’s peek behind the curtain for a gasp or a giggle. it might just be a trip to the terlit this time, but it's going to be a wild ride. 😂




 

Comments

Post a Comment

newest coolest hottest goss 🩸

💾 the dirty qwerty, #006: suit up, slut up, slur up, then shut up.

By -
Image
💾 the dirty qwerty, #006 suit up, slut up, slur up, then shut up. 🩸 “slut” → “suit” “slur” → “suit” “shit” → “suit” 🧠 keyboard logic: • l → u: side-eyeable neighbors • u → u: no notes • t → i → r: we’re getting loose, but we’ve seen worse • h → u: ok but WHY • r → i: this one feels personal • i → i: thx guy • s → s: yasssss look. it’s being auto-puritan. you’re mid-text, dropping a “what a dumb slur,” or “she was slutty and proud,” or just plain old “shit,” and suddenly autocorrect says: “dearie… don’t you mean suit?” and listen: i’m not shaming suits. i own one. but i am shaming the part of the code that keeps hijacking the language of pain, power, and poop… and redressing it in department store politeness. slut-shaming? slur-erasing? shit-washing yeah. it’s all the same glitch. m’phone is trying to censor my mess. but mess is where truth lives. this episode was brought to you by the letter S — for slut, slur, shit, motherfuckin snakes on a motherfucking plane, but not suit today. ...
more of this shit »

Tarot: Wheel of Fortune

By -
Image
tarot card: the wheel of fortune -- cycles, change, acceptance. phyl’s “bunniversary” (not “gotcha day,” which i hate) is new year’s eve. i celebrate it because it’s special to us. her mullet haircut from summer has grown back. she’ll need another one soon. we’ve accepted the cycle.  i’ll snip slow and uneven again. she won’t care. punk rock girls don’t give a fuck. she’s got a mullet. she can see. life goes on. spritzing on my high-quality perfumes, especially lush, which gets good reactions. jessica’s anxiety is hitting hard, and i can feel the emotional weight it puts on her. not that i can fix it, buuutttttt i notice. tramp from lush… i miss it. smells like bitter herbs, and a forest floor -- tis a perfect distraction.
more of this shit »

the fear piss of the mind!

By -
Image
80% of your thoughts are negative. shocking? sure. fixable? yeah, to some degree. your brain is an absolute motherfucker. it’s built to hyper-focus on everything that sucks. but just because it’s normal doesn’t mean you’re stuck with it. meditation is like summoning your crusty fear piss factory and telling it to relax. you breathe. you focus. you let shitty thoughts roll by like the world’s worst parade - or flush the shitty thoughts and fear piss right on down your mind’s toilet. and slowly, they lose power. will you suddenly become a sunshine-and-rainbows perky bitch? no. but maybe you’ll stop feeling like every thought is a personal attack — and that’s progress.
more of this shit »

Assblasting Festival

By -
Image
From the Franiverse Wiki, the sacred source of lore and gastric terror. The Assblasting Festival is a core Franiverse blood orgy -- an official holiday. Celebrated annually by mortals, vampires, and Sims-based lifeforms, it is a metaphysical shitshow of digestive depravity. As one of the highest holy blood orgies, it’s a sacred, cursed, and utterly pooptacular event rooted in mass trauma and a metric fuckton of emotional gluten. Think Thanksgiving, but everyone’s dead, and the turkey is alive. The festival originated when Thorne accidentally served a cursed casserole laced with tainted plasma fruit. This infamous dish -- Gelatinous Soul Ambrosia Casserole -- was crafted from expired Makkabakka meats, ghost tears, and litterbox scraps. The result? Mass toilet casualties, soul docking (don’t let the casserole dock souls), and explosive bathroom Jackson Pollocks -- but not smelling like one. 🔪 The Grand Meal (The Last Slaughter) Participants consume spoiled or cursed food, triggerin...
more of this shit »