Monday Morsals

When I was in college, we called it Beirut and played with quarters.

Now everyone plays Beer Pong. Truth be told, I miss the quarters. However, I kick ass at both versions, so I guess my point is moot.

I kind-of sort-of wish I had the foresight to plan a kick-ass graduation party for myself & friends this past weekend. It would have been sweet and tons of fun with beer pong and everything.

And, in my fantasy dream-world, a cake like one of these:


Bittersweet Stationary

I came upon this stationary from Pretty Bitter awhile ago. Someday I will have some extra cash to actually purchase some, because I know quite a few individuals I would like to send these to. Check it out.

These cards are from the Dirty Doilies collection. As Pretty Bitter explains,
I also really like their Gift Tags. Seriously, if you get a second, go check them out. I guarantee these products will definitely make your next Christmas/Birthday/other obligatory get-together a more entertaining and fun-filled one.


Some Food for Thought

I think these items are just the cutest things.

(via Modcloth)

(via Etsy)
(via Modcloth)

(via Etsy)

(via Modcloth)

(via Etsy)


I'm not sure I can do this anymore

I'm punishing myself, but I didn't know it would punish you too.
When can I allow myself to feel again?
No, I'm never alright.
I'm shutting down because that's the best that I can do.
And letting go.
I will not cry. I will not die. I will not try.
I will not try.
What is it you all think I am?
I don't have the energy to call out to you.
I don't need your help.
Don't break me.
I don't want to put on happy face. I just want to be me.
We do what we need to do to get by.
Don't make me feel. Please don't.
I want to run away, run away, run away.
No, I want to float away.
I wish I had something to make it easier.
I want you back, but I'm going to push it away.
I want to be where you are, but I won't tell you that.
I don't deserve that.
I miss you too.
But not you.
You create your own messes, and this is my mess, and I must live with it.
I like it better when I don't care. Things are easier.
I'm unraveling.
Nobody wants the responsibility of me.
No one should have to go through that.
You told me I couldn't come back.


When life gets a little too dirty...

This post is both bitter and sweet. I discovered this giveaway by à la mode™ Stuff via:


Septic Soaps are pretty much awesome. My fave, of course, are the Childhood Trauma Soap and the Morning After Soap. Head on over to à la mode™ Stuff to enter the giveaway for a chance to win a 3 bar set of soap (or not. I'd like to win, so the fewer entries, the better chance I have of winning, right?).


Monday Morsels

My sister is having a "Game Night" in a couple of weeks that I offered to help out with. I think she's going to have me make some yummy in the tummy cupcakes. I'd like to do something light and spring-like. I'm very inspired by these:

* Not what I would call light or spring-like, but I imagine this is more what my sister had in mind.


... I just want to sleep alone

... I just want to stay in bed all day


The train was headed nowhere

I was on a train. I had a compartment at the end of the car. I shared it with three other girls. It was cramped. The toilet was on a shelf. Surrounded by windows. And the old man stared.

The room was wet. Someone left the shower on. I think it was me. I shut it off.

She was concerned for my safety. I was blonde. The workers liked blonde. They were on their lunch break. She sent her to escort me.

We sat down to dinner. The old men drank whiskey. I did too.

My friends were there. They were brunette. They laughed a lot.

My ticket wasn't right. She wanted to show me the route home. The map was covered in ice cubes. We filled everyone's cups. The ice wouldn't come off. She couldn't show me the way.

I spilled my drink on a girl. She was angry. She took my dress. It was pretty. It had daisies on it. I wanted to wear it. I was in my pajamas. They were wet from the shower.

You sat down next me. On my left. Where you belong. I couldn't see your face. I still knew it was you.

The quarters were tight. Your body was pressed against mine. I could feel your heat. I sensed your passion. She warned me of the danger. I ignored her. You talked to me. I sucked on an ice cube.

Your girlfriend was angry. She made you move. (I didn't know you had a girlfriend). She was wearing my dress.

You looked at me. Your girlfriend glared at me. That guy asked me for the butter.

The food was perfectly proportioned. It was served too quickly. I didn't have time to eat it.

That guy wanted to know if I was the Terminator. (The female one. I didn't know there was a female one). I told him I couldn't tell him if I was. I spun on my chair.

Someone threw a ping pong ball. It landed in your drink. You looked at me.

Everyone wanted to know who I was. They were curious. I was different. I didn't fit in.

My dessert had custard in it. I couldn't eat custard. The server didn't care. That guy gave me his peach pie. I smiled at him.

His mom sat next to him. She served the coffee. She was angry. She glared at me. I'd seen her before. I thought she was a murderer.

The music started. The waiters sang. I liked their deep voices.

The curtains dropped. The lights dimmed. The show was about to begin.

So I woke up.


Go. Away.

I'm crushed.
I'm empty.
I'm deflated.

I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest.
I feel like I'm missing the best part of me.
I feel like I've lost something I will never recapture.

I'm choked up.
I'm teary-eyed.
I'm heart broken.

I think I thought I didn't need it.
I think I thought I would be fine without.
I think I thought I was stronger than that.

I hurt.
I yearn.
I long.