on the advice from stripper scientist

Never again, stripper scientist. Never again.

You know what that felt like?

Have you seen The Simpson’s movie…or maybe Hell on Wheels?

It felt like those moments where a wise and spiritual but clinically insane old woman traps you in a teepee for days on end, tripping on some kind of sacred tree root with a single bowl of green mush to sustain yourself. You learn a lot about yourself but you will be forever traumatized by the events that took place in that teepee.

I will never be able to walk back in there without the fear of being trapped for four. goddamn. hours.

MY PHONE DIED HALFWAY THROUGH.

It was agony. Pure agony. I cried out of frustration, I cried because I was left alone in a room to rot for what felt like eons, I cried because in 3rd grade, Zack didn’t want to hold my hand. I cried because I wanted some goldfish crackers. Who wants goldfish crackers?! I cried because there was nothing else I could do.

And then I laughed.

Isolation puts me in a weird place. 

Also, that “wise old woman” robbed me blind.

Yes, you certainly do owe me dinner. A week’s worth of dinner because that’s how much of my money sanity I just lost, dammit.

But, I suppose, this is what I get for listening to the advice of a scientist who is also a certifiable stripper.

 

 

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