talk of shame

@talkofshame

You know that feeling of coming down off a particularly epic ramble about tv or gender or popsicles or toast or feminism or why cowboy boots are the greatest but still not as great as cheese though those two aren't related at all so actually scratch all that and ugh there's wine on my computer again and everything's the WORST? Anyway. I'm Caroline. I live in Hollywood and i will never steal your role.

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thx for the memories, talkofshame dot tumblr dot com!

#but i still called it talk of shame because letting go is rough stuff guys

Birds-eye view of the reminder that I'm completely typical

Nick found the greatest shirt sorry other shirts!!! (at The Grove)

Just went into a stranger's bathroom and forgot to check behind the shower curtain so I guess this is goodbye.

#if you don't know no one's hiding in the shower there is someone hiding in the shower that's just science

sure why not

#this is the only tweet #and they're not even FOLLOWING ME #so hostile for a mouth organ

Who do you most identify with in "Cheers"?

a) Sam

b) Diane

c) Norm and/or Cliff

d) Woody and/or Coach

e) The Woman in Tweed Who Always Orders White Wine

f) Carla

g) Rebecca

h) The Crazy Ex

i) Frasier

j) Lillith

k) The Uncomfortable Native American Person-Shaped Coat Rack

l) The Regular Who Doesn’t Realize He’s Not on the Same Level as Cliff and Norm

m) The Triangle Bell Hanging Aimlessly Over the Bar Just Waiting for a Special Occasion

k) The Aspiring Writer Who Compulsively Asks People If They’re Into This “Cheers” Show Even Though She Was Born After It Premiered

#g j l k #cheers

“Banned to WHERE?!” she cried, frantically clicking through. (She had recently bought coconut seltzer and dived into the Kirstie Alley era of “Cheers,” so she was feeling particularly stupid and vulnerable.)

Yeaaaaah you are

#father cutie #bless me father for i have sinned

Today's lesson: I am not to be fucked with.

If I can simultaneously put a bobby pin in my hair AND stab myself full-on in the face with my thumbnail so hard I draw blood, fall off my chair into my bookshelf and knock the third Game of Thrones book I read 150 out of 1000 pages of because I didn’t feel like waiting for the next season to find out what happened to Sansa Stark onto my head, just imagine what kind of damage I could do if I TRIED.*

#*i am of course referring to the damage i could do to myself #no one else should be at all concerned

Bar Stranger: Oh yeah, Parks and Recreation is great.

Me: Ahhhh I LOVE Parks and Rec SO MUCH. So much!! I can't believe we're missing the wedding right now.

Bar Stranger: Wedding?

Me: Ben and Leslie's wedding!

Bar Stranger: ....

Me: You know, Leslie and Ben? Leslie...Knope? And Ben Wyatt?

Bar Stranger: ......

Me: They're getting married tonight. And I think she's wearing a newspaper dress made out of Pawnee Suns, how PERFECT IS THAT?!

Bar Stranger: .........

Me: ............

Bar Stranger: .................

Me: ..............so when you said Parks and Rec is great, you meant you've seen a few episodes and do NOT make a habit of putting its major life events in your calendar?

Bar Stranger: That is correct.

Me: Cool, me too.

#still haven't seen it #still dying #fuck that guy and his lukewarm feelings about television!!

This is an adorable family taking pictures outside the Full House row of houses because sometimes life conspires to kick you full-on in the ovaries. (at Alamo Square)

I haven’t been writing on this blog lately because I didn’t think I had anything particularly hilarious to say, and sometimes the rule of the Internet seems to be “if you have nothing funny to say, then don’t say anything at all.” I haven’t been writing here lately because I felt like my issues weren’t particularly interesting, or insightful, or inspiring. I haven’t been writing because sometimes, I’ll write a thousand sentences but delete every single one before moving on to the next, because sometimes, doubt is more powerful than imagination and it swallows pages whole.

So I don’t think I have anything new to say about my childhood dog being put to sleep today. I know she lived a good life, and we were lucky to have her, and she probably had a better time than 99% of humans, but today I don’t care if that’s not new information because today all I feel is completely, deeply sad, and writing is the only way I know how to think about at it at all. Today is a day when I sit in a bar at noon wondering about 3000 miles away, and whether she’s gone yet, or if she's still waiting to go. Today is a day I stop using the present tense, and start with the past, and try with everything I have not to think about the future. And writing is the only way I know how to do that.