sometimes my mom will ask me if i have any advice to help my little sister navigate the treacherous waters of high school and i will never understand why she thinks i can help because in high school i
had such a goddamn mess of a backpack it took me ten minutes to find everything, which you would think would inspire me to organize it, but instead i started keeping a rubber chicken and a giant key and a wooden spoon and a fake bag of blood in there so that while i was hunting for my homework i would end up pulling these things out thus transforming my inability to find anything into a hilarious bit instead of a failure of executive function
would intermittently become convinced that i had a really obvious moustache and everyone was going to be staring at my awful girlstache, so i would paint on a clark gable stache with liquid eyeliner, thus ensuring that everyone would definitely be staring at my moustache and i wasn’t just paranoid
would have emotionally delicate days where i could tell i was going to end up crying for no goddamn reason so i would bring a three-foot tall stuffed toy dog with me, because a teenaged girl crying for no reason is a cliche but a teenaged girl crying into a comically large stuffed dog is performance art
dropped out after two years because i felt like i got the gist
tfw you accidentally make eye contact with the same person twice and have to pretend to be fascinated by something behind them to make it clear that you were just spacing out and not creeping on them specifically
Some people are calling the cats on my blog “stupid” or saying they “hate” them. I can’t support this. These cats did not ask to be this way. They want to be loved just like other cats, they want to play and cuddle. I personally think other cats are better and nicer. But I do not hate these cats. It is not their fault.
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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