On Faking Life and Other Things

Seeeester.

Seeeester.

I’ve known my friend’s mother since I was born. She is a nice person who means well, but is exceptionally nosey and stalks my Facebook page. She called asking if she could email some old photos (I gave her my spam address on account of her being notorious for sending chain emails on the daily) to show my dad in hopes that he’d upload them to his recent Facebook page. 

Half of the photos are my personal photos that I have uploaded to Facebook over the years. She has downloaded and saved them to her computer. I’m confused as to why she would email me photos that clearly were already mine and stored on my hard drive. I understand that everything you upload to an external website is fair game, but OMG MY FACEBOOK PHOTOS AREN’T YOUR PERSONAL SCRAPBOOK.

I’ve taken to blocking her on Instagram and really tempted to bar her from some of my existing albums. 

My parents aren’t home so I’m well into my third hour of “Finding Bigfoot” on Animal Planet.

Here’s to attempting to fall asleep early only to wake up at midnight and finish A Clash of Kings at 4:30am.

Here’s to attempting to fall asleep early only to wake up at midnight and finish A Clash of Kings at 4:30am.

Even though she’s spoiled rotten by my father and clearly favors him, Zinny pup is the best dog I’ve ever encountered.

Honorable mentions go out to Trixie and Henry.

So at the winery I work by myself and if there are no customers I’m completely alone. The guy who works next store over always pops in and tries to talk to me and every time I get this uncomfortable feeling. It’s a combination of him being awkward and my practically dad’s age that makes me uneasy. Just now he tried to offer to buy me ice cream or food in general. I politely declined and he left.

About a month ago I stopped parking my car on the backstreets out of fear of him following me. I always do a quick check if he’s outside hanging out before I bring in the tables because I don’t want to deal with any more interaction than I have to.

Maybe he actually is a nice guy and harmless, I just don’t really care to find out.

Plus I’ve just watched too many episodes of Law and Order: SVU to know that this is how terrible shit happens.

File this under things that I hate about being a girl.

vlctory:

MINE FT. DRAKE : BEYONCE

First order of action when I become Queen of the Universe: replace all mirrors with long, vertical ones because there ain’t nobody who looks bad in those.

Also redwoodmagpie do any of your friends own a legit pair of Spectra Specs like me? Do you see the Nargles floating by my head? BECAUSE I DO!

Also redwoodmagpie do any of your friends own a legit pair of Spectra Specs like me? Do you see the Nargles floating by my head? BECAUSE I DO!

HP World savings with redwoodmagpie!!

HP World savings with redwoodmagpie!!

I legitimately miss the effects of marijuana and would easily chose being high over being drunk.

I bought this shirt for like $30 at Disneyland over ten years ago. It was only sold in a youth large so the boxy shape never properly fitted me. It also didn’t help that I developed boobs shorty after, but that never stopped me from wearing it all over middle school. Now it has shrunken over the years and landed in my designated sleep shirt drawer. Case and point: I still can’t part with this shirt. Ever.

I bought this shirt for like $30 at Disneyland over ten years ago. It was only sold in a youth large so the boxy shape never properly fitted me. It also didn’t help that I developed boobs shorty after, but that never stopped me from wearing it all over middle school. Now it has shrunken over the years and landed in my designated sleep shirt drawer. Case and point: I still can’t part with this shirt. Ever.

My hair is just so gross, fried, and dead. Considering Magpie’s wedding is over and done I just need to whack off a decent chunk of my hair.

Welp the last paycheck I obtained from my employer bounced. I called my boss and she profusely apologized and is fixing the issue, but still I’m annoyed and find this all to be extremely unprofessional.