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1. Yes to Tomatoes face wipes yestomatoes HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS this stuff is pretty great. Now I’m not lying when I say that my skin is usually pretty okay with minimal upkeep. I have been blessed with a natural gorgeous body, hair, and skin, but sometimes shit would go down. Especially chin acne up the wazoo. It sucked and I hated it. BUT NOW I HAVE THESE!! I’ve tried face wipes/make up remover wipes before but they were always so fucking harsh on my skin!!! I might as well have been rubbing fucking sandpaper on my face. It was horrible and it hurt so bad always. These guys are so super gentle and they’re even fine for your eyes (yOUR EYES!!!) so you can get eyeliner off and it’s just generally the bomb. Frankly, my skin has never looked fucking better and I feel like I owe a lot to the tomato now. Which is also a great fruit and probably my favorite fruit of ALL TIME. 2. St. Ives Body Wash standingstives ANOTHER GREAT PRODUCT TO WASH YOURSELF WITH I fucking love to exfoliate – it makes my skin feel like 700 thread count sheets. It is incredible. But sometimes exfoliators are so fucking rough and make me want to die. Enter this stuff!!!! It exfoliates, but it’s gentle enough to use every day!!!! Amazing. Life is incredible. This makes showering feel like I’m really scrubbing off all the shit off of my body and it feels great. 3. My next December favorite was just the general dread and malaise that comes with graduating college and the holiday season and just being completely dead inside. sadness_by_s1yk I HATE WINTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUT SADNESS IS MY FAVORITE FEELING!!!!!!!!! 4. Break Free by Ariana Grande ArianaGrande_BreakFree How late am I on this song? I don’t care. It’s incredible. Ariana Grande is slowly growing on me, and if they make a music video for the Nicki Minaj song she features on, Get on Your Knees, I may just die. Her voice used to annoy me, but this song makes me wanna be like “yeah I am BREAKING FREE!” ps “I only wanna die alive” is a great tattoo to get on your underboob. 5. Cooking Fever cookingfever Nothing has made me feel like a capitalistic greed machine than Cooking Fever. It’s a game for your iPhone that turns simple people in to chefs and those chefs into monsters. I’m at a point in the game where you can only advance by upgrading items with gems, but they won’t give me gems until I level up. This vaguely Asian woman taunts me EVERY DAY and doles out meager daily rewards of two gems, and then makes me pay 15 (FIFTEEN) gems to upgrade a goddamn soup pot. This game has wasted so much of my time but it also has the added benefit of helping me avoid thinking about my inevitable death. 6. Serial serial-social-logo Murder! Mystery! Kinda some racism! Serial has it all! Everyone else was obsessed with Serial, so I got obsessed with Serial too. For the record, I pretty much agree with every single criticism that’s been made about this show, but I still fucking loved it. This is recommended for people who still have some faith in the world because this will crush all of that immediately. 7. My Bachelors Degree istock_000015935079small Man, applying to part time jobs and telling them I have completed a bachelors degree feels GREAT!! What were some of your favorites last month gang?? How did you keep yourself from thinking life’s big questions and then being overwhelmed by them and crying yourself to sleep? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS! <33

As my quest for Internet fame continues, there’s one social media website that I have still not dared to exploit, and that is Facebook.

And that’s mostly because Facebook is awful and horrible and terrifying and I hate it. But also because sharing this on Facebook means that instead of sharing this with my friends on tumblr and twitter, I’m sharing it with other people who don’t really know me and aren’t my friends.

I’m not worried about humiliating myself though. That’s not the problem. I’m just afraid of making people feel inadequate because they can never hope or dream to have it all together like I obviously do.

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what people probably imagine when they see my name on Facebook

Who are we kidding, it’s definitely because I’m afraid of making an idiot out of myself. I have to admit sometimes I feel tres 2007 when I write on this blog because who the fuck does this anymore? Nobody that I know. But I’m just going to keep doing it because it makes me happy and yeah, that’s the point (when can we start having inside jokes?).

Facebook is just this weird little universe, and I have to admit that I’ve taken most people’s updates off my newsfeed, but then I started to follow on twitter whatever I liked on Facebook, and now my Facebook is pretty much just a worse version of my twitter because my mom is on Facebook.

Note: Do not ever joke to your mom that she should get a Facebook account. It has ruined my goddamn life. I blocked her once thinking I could just unblock her, but blocking someone unfriends them (duh) and she brings up that I unfriended her on Facebook at least three times a week. IT HAPPENED YEARS AGO. I was still in high school I think. That’s how long ago it was. Upside: I know Facebook’s privacy settings better than I know my own Social Security Number.

But Facebook has a few positives, I have to admit. As a young, feminist lesbian who currently resides with some more conservative family members, I find that it is most beneficial to express my liberal rage in the form of angry debates on misogyny. My relatives would thank these people, but it doesn’t stop me from taking it out on them at all, and recently I walked out of a taco place after screaming at my brother about my “biological tendency” to prefer higher testosterone levels.

Which is strange because I love tacos. I really shouldn’t have taken it out on them.

Facebook is one of those things that when I say I hate it, people go “ooh, so edgy” and I’m like, “I wasn’t trying to be edgy it’s a piece of shit” and then I wallow in the small self-esteem boost that I get when people like my Facebook status. It’s a painful, deadly circle. I don’t have the Facebook app because I’m above that shit, but then I constantly just go on it on Safari anyway and then I hate myself even more.

It’s not even the fact that no one has really anything interesting to say, or I hate seeing people’s vacation photos, or something like that. I don’t even know what it is. It feels like when your parents ask you, “hey, what’s up with that girl you haven’t spoken to in years?” and you’re like, “Um, I don’t know mom? I called her a slut once and now she hates me. We’re still at that point in our relationship.” That’s how I feel when I use Facebook. Like I’m weirdly being asked to make nice with my former acquaintances.

And if you’ve ever had to do a group project with someone without a Facebook account, you know why I can’t delete my profile.

I’m just looking forward to the day when I’m old enough to be on Gchat all the time and I’ll just only use Facebook to untag myself from drunk photos.

Until then, I’m going to start trying to exploit my Facebook more.

Because I think that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. And maybe it’ll make me hate myself just a little less.

FINAL REVIEW: it’s probably best to just live in a little hole in the woods and never ever social network again.

I like clothes a lot more than someone would think. But I like clothes in the sense that I like looking at them. Purchasing them and wearing those clothes is a totally other story. Mostly because I have horrible insomnia, so when I’m getting ready I’m either about to be late, or I’ve been up all night and I’m like “stripes with floral is a thing? right?” and then I put on a sweatshirt over whatever I’m wearing anyway and call it a day.

There are some times where I’m laying in bed, thinking about the next day, and I get a brilliant fashion plan and I’m like “ooh yes” and then the next day I put it on and I’m like, “damn I’m good at this shit.”

One time in high school a girl complimented my clothes and said I “took a lot of risks.” I think I was wearing this dark purple dress with a large floral print and dark green tights. She was the student aide in my Latin class and I thought she was way hot so I was like, “no big deal gurl.”

Actually I probably vomited all over myself and then got a nosebleed. The nosebleed actually happened in Latin class, fun fact. I got blood all over the floor and stuff and they had to call in the public school cleaning experts and make sure no one dared to touch my possibly HIV-ridden blood.

Speaking of HIV, when I first learned what that was (sixth grade, in a class called “Family Life”) I became CONVINCED that I had HIV. Now I didn’t get this from sharing needles or having sex, because I was an 11 year old girl who would soon become very sexually confused for a long time and because I lived in the middle of this:

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just imagine the early title sequence of Weeds

So, my theory was that my mom gave me AIDS while she was pregnant with me and that she didn’t tell me about it for some reason, and she was sneaking me all these drugs to keep me healthy this whole time.

It made a lot of sense to me back then. The symptoms flashed up on the screen and I was like, “Hey, I get sick a lot. I must have HIV.”

And my hypochondria stemmed from a lifelong problem with anxiety, which is also the cause of my insomnia, which leads up straight back to fashion.

I think my biggest problem when it comes to my own personal style is that I have too many directions I want to go in. If I could wear everything Elle Woods owns, I’d love that. She has, like, sparkly bikinis in four different colors. Also I’d love to have everything that Cher Horowitz (from the movie Clueless) wears. I fucking love matching plaid now and I’m on a mission to find it.

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essentially my dream outfit complete with yellow plaid

But also, and what I am about to say to you will be a surprise possibly, but punk music played a huge part in my adolescence (I used to dye my hair dark red, but also I gave myself pink hair and purple hair and I ALMOST dyed my hair jet black a la Kathleen Hanna but thank god I chickened out) so of course I’m also obsessed with leather (fake leather though. I don’t usually care so much about animals but for some reason wearing their skin gives me the heebie-jeebies) and huge boots and studs and wearing black and things like that.

So I think sometimes I end up somewhere in the middle. Like, floral shorts with tights with a bright yellow shirt that says “fucking” across it and a leather jacket. It’s not usually very pleasing to other people.

Other notable items in my wardrobe: shiny gold leggings, the loudest pink, yellow, and green striped shirt ever, bright pink jeans, and so much fucking floral. It’s an issue.

Also I have a girlfriend who is kind of hard to please when it comes to the fashion game. I never really know what she wants from me. I mean obviously I prefer wearing no clothes around her (heyoo) but we have to go to Chipotle sometimes and mostly I end up looking like this weirdo standing next to this collared shirt and Toms combo. Whenever I ask her for fashion advice it usually goes along the lines of:

“Hey, should I get one of those necklaces that spell your name in cursive?”
“No.”
“But I don’t want my name…I want to get ‘Britney’ for Britney Spears.”
“No.”

She keeps me grounded.

That being said, I really love fashion blogs, which is, again, something I don’t think people would necessarily think I would like, but there are so many that I read regularly and some that have ended but I still go back and read sometimes. I would totally run a fashion blog if I could, you know, understand anything about clothes ever. And that doesn’t look likely.

Also fashion bloggers take the best Instagrams. Always. It’s a given.

So my final review on fashion? It’s great. I love it. I just wish I wasn’t an idiot about it and that I actually purchased practical items instead of getting fixated on a color or a pattern (right now I’m just literally buying everything that is pink or has a pug on it). Maybe I’ll learn, but then I think about this amazing pair of jeans I had when I was a kid with this gorgeous flower embroidery on the left leg and then I realize that I’m going to look like a floral smoothie threw up on me for the rest of my life.

And I’m mostly okay with that.

“Wow, Laura’s gone through 7 blog posts without talking about how gay she is??? This was not what I was expecting at all,” is what no one is thinking because I don’t think anyone gives a shit or has any expectations regarding the content of my blog. But, I am the kind of person who does not shut up about being gay, and I attribute this mostly to the fact that, for a good portion of my life, I was so deeply closeted that I didn’t even realize that there was a closet. So now I have to make up for that and remind people constantly that I like ladies in a very sexual way.

Does it ever cross my mind that I’m being obnoxious about it? Sometimes, yeah, and I’ve had a lot of these moments throughout my life. I have just very recently stopped being a teenager, and I can say with certainty that being a teenager sucks. Being a gay teenager was pretty bad as well, and I’m still annoyed at how much of my time I spent worrying about how I felt about dick.

And let me just say that the Internet does not help at all in these situations. I’m the kind of person that Googles every question she could ever think of, so when I’m 16 and Googling “if I think about having sex with girls, does that mean I’m gay” and every answer is “NO! OF COURSE NOT! Only you can decide your label!!” it gets a little confusing. Not that those statements aren’t true, of course they are, but I needed to add in the fact that I only thought about having sex with girls and I had various crushes on girls but I didn’t know they were crushes because other girls would tell me that I had crushes on boys and I would be like “…sure??”

You know, it was something I worried about for a long time, but one of the best moments that comes along with being gay or being different at all and stressing out about it is the moment you stop giving a shit. I think this is probably a series of moments that happens throughout your life, but there was a day in high school where someone wrote “Dyke” over my last name and the first thought in my head was, “yep.”

It’s honestly one of the prouder moments of my life. Calling anyone a dyke is never cool, we know that, but imagine how much easier coming out would have been if my last name was Dyke? People would be like, “oh Laura Dyke? Right yeah duh she likes girls.” It would have been great. It’s like the name equivalent of playing softball in high school. I would have been set for life.

Unfortunately for Laura Dyke, though, she probably would have found another way to be incredibly confused about her sexuality for years. “Just cause my last name is Dyke doesn’t mean I’m gay,” I would shout with the same intensity that I shouted the fact that just because I could only think of female celebrities when we all discussed the hotness of famous people, it doesn’t mean that I want to have sex with them.

And then later I would think about having sex with them.

So now I approach talking about how gay I am and other gay things with that same attitude. “Yep.” It’s what I like talking about. I think probably some people think I’m silly for constantly brining it up, but it’s not something I care about anymore.

So, with that in mind, here’s are some brief thoughts involving oral sex.

One of my favorite things that straight girls say (and I have compiled a detailed list of them) goes something along the lines of “Women are hot, but I could never be a lesbian because vaginas are gross!!”

And I don’t want to make fun of straight girls because I’m friends with a lot of straight girls and they’re all fine, wonderful people. That’s definitely not my intention, just like their intention when they say that is not to be mean or anything like that. It’s genuinely how they feel, and I appreciate that honesty.

I’ll admit it! Vaginas are not typically great. At the end of the day, it’s still someone’s genitals. I’m not a lesbian because I see a vulva and think, “Yes! I would love to put my mouth on that immediately!” Maybe some lesbians think that, I’m just not one of them. I’m a lesbian because I “liked” Spring Breakers on Facebook to periodically get pictures of Ashley Benson looking like this:

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and then thinking, “Yeeeeeah, that movie was pretty great.”

And it’s not even like I don’t enjoy giving oral sex, because I totally do. It’s a great time. It wasn’t like I expected at all. You enjoy it a lot more than you think you will, trust me. There’s also the added benefit that comes with giving cunnilingus (what a great word, by the way), which is that no matter what, it’s gonna be pretty great feeling for the other person. I typically go into it the same way I approach any kind of competitive board game or sport: with no strategy and no knowledge of what the hell I’m doing. So far it’s worked out pretty okay for me.

I’m just saying that the vulva (not so great of a word) is not the end-all-be-all for lesbianism. There are also breasts and other stuff that are also really nice. And since I’m in a relationship, there are a lot of lesbians I can’t have sex with. Namely, all of them but one. That’s perfectly fine with me, because there are also a lot of other facets of lesbianism that I can participate in. Like making jokes about Uhauls that my straight friends don’t understand, or trying to convince my two queer friends that I could totally be butch if I wanted to be because I took wood shop in eighth grade and I wasn’t terrible at it.

Being gay is great. I have not loved every second of it, but in the gay world all this shit that comes with it are like little experience points that you just tally up and you can use them to come off as emotionally troubled and deep and sensitive and stuff. That usually works out. Some straight people have a lot of guilt and if you push just the right sympathy button, everyone feels sorry for you and then you get drunk off of the power that you now have.

And you also gain a whole community of people! They’re like the sisters you’ve never had. Except their sisters that you’re also sexually attracted to and you’ve probably hooked up once or twice but it’s okay now because she’s dating someone really great and you fully support that relationship. Or also possibly the two of you dated and now you’re broken up and you continue to make out with each other because you moved in together because all lesbians are idiots and this is what we do.

Everyone should try lesbianism at least once. You don’t necessarily have to go spelunking between a woman’s legs (but if you want to, go for it, you will probably not be disappointed) but maybe give The Real L Word a shot. Listen to some Tegan & Sara and figure out how to tell them apart. Buy some plaid flannel shirts and wear them on the hottest fucking day of the year because that is what all the baby gays do. It’s a good time. Learning how not to care was the greatest thing that my lesbianism has brought me, and I just hope that maybe I can impart that wisdom onto some of the straights.

And then maybe they’ll realize why I never care about their problems.

Mindy Kaling (my hero and role model in every single way) kept a blog in 2007-2008 that was all just things she bought and I’ve been severely addicted to it, so she is completely responsible for this awesomely shallow review of online shopping.

The first thing I ever Googled was Harry Potter and that’s when I discovered that you can find literally anything on the Internet and that is not usually great for an elementary schooler, but as a 20 year old with absolutely no disposable income it’s definitely not great at all. I typically hate shopping in general because I’m cheap as fuck and I can never justify spending $49.99 on a piece of fabric that has been haphazardly arranged by Urban Outfitters factory employee #24601 in some other country mostly because my mom wins blue ribbons at the county fair for her amazing sewing and fabric work and also because I have very particular taste. These things, coupled with the fact that the phrase “do you need help with anything?” tends to send me into a murderous rage makes the Internet a blessed safe haven for me.

There are some issues that I take with it, like the fact that they plaster the words FREE SHIPPING all over the place with a little tiny *on purchases over $200 scribbled next to them, but generally online shopping is great and awesome and I love it. I never actually buy anything because I’m still cheaper than a Jewish banker (I’m dating a Jew and I got an A in Introduction to Judaism so I’m allowed to make these jokes I promise) but I can do it while wearing the same jeans I’ve been wearing since 9th grade and have my hair up in that ratty white girl ponytail that’s only every comfortable after sleeping in it and at that point you’re just committed to it. Also, who the fuck wants to look at dumb, expensive clothes on hangers or headless mannequins when I could look at them on super hot models? If stores really wanted me to come in and buy their crap they should just have hot girls modeling all their stuff for me. Except that would probably intimidate me more, and also it would probably inspire a tweet or two about the commodification of women’s bodies or something and that would be that. Anyway, my latest obsession in online window shopping is Nasty Gal because seriously it’s everything I love in one little Internet boutique and I just want to die everything is so great and I would honestly wear it all.

Take this rainbow fucking skirt for example: Image

If you don’t think that’s fly as hell I don’t want to be friends with you. Just imagine if I had this skirt!! I’d be the toast of gay prides everywhere. Cupcake stores would ask me to model for them and I could be their social media intern on the side because I’m super savvy and smart and capable of taking risks. That’s what this skirt says to me. Unfortunately it also says that it’s $70 and the matching (MATCHING) rainbow crop top (side note on crop tops: I fucking love them but I’m not sure I can wear one because my body type can be described as “skeletal” and I feel like crop tops are meant to, like, not show off every bone in your chest but also I don’t give a shit because a matching rainbow crop top are you kidding me) is another $70 and it’s not like I can have one without the other. So here I am, without the prestigious, yet quaint, cupcake shop internship that I know in my heart I’m destined for. Speaking of destiny can we talk about the sexiest goddamn dress that I have ever seen in my life:

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I just mean like are you kidding me?? I am so in love with this I want to die. Just forget about the dumb sunglasses that she’s wearing because my small face can only really pull off those cheap Hot Topic sunglasses that you try on to kill 10 minutes at the mall, and give me everything this girl is wearing and also her life. I love this also because it’s dead sexy (as mentioned before) but also it has juuuust enough not-sexy that I could totally get away with wearing this and, you know, my untied boots or whatever, and just breeze into Literatures of Continental Europe like “oh, yeah, no it’s chill sorry ladies I’m taken don’t all rush to sit next to me and bask in my crazy hot intellect.” Everyone else probably thinks this is the trashiest thing ever (and you don’t even know that it’s called a “garter dress” on the website), but I can’t get enough of this. That girl definitely knows what she’s doing in the bedroom and she also carries business cards in the pocket of her leather jacket and balances the shit out of her checkbook and files her taxes on time. She probably has an amazing credit score. These things are all sexy as hell to me.

But instead, I’m stuck wearing clothes that reveal my true self: unable to mature past 10th grade. I mean that mentally and physically, of course because I still have the same taste in clothing and also I literally have not grown since I’ve been wearing the same jeans for 7 years. I desperately wish that was an exaggeration. But until this blog sends me into mega superstardom like I know it will, my lack of awesome clothes that turn me into a beautiful goddess that effortlessly moves through life with grace and poise and out of reach. I will continue to lament this, and the fact that there is a distinct lack of videos of Percy the Pug from Pocahontas on YouTube. The Internet is just so unsatisfying.