mercedes delusive.

insolent toddler princess.


clean; squeaky

I know I’m - what?  five, ten years - late here, but I just did this (I realize I’m writing about it so I shouldn’t be so pathetic, but I’m just going to refer to it as “this”) for the first time.

Like two hours ago.

In true mercedes fashion, there was no rhyme or reason for this decision. The odds of me getting physical with someone in a time frame that would make this “worth it” are the same as they were when the odds were zero. ZERO!

But, I wanted to do it for a while and then today, in a continuation of this weekend’s mania, I randomly decided to do it and made my friend come with me because I am incapable of doing anything by myself. 

So, like… I went here (if anyone’s wondering; they use hard wax which is apparently less painful than whatever you would use otherwise?)

My lady was really nice, even when I was crying, explaining to her that it was my first time doing this and I was really scared. She asked me if it was for “someone special” or you know, whatever, because it’s Valentine’s Day (which I forget about and don’t celebrate - for reasons obvious and otherwise) and she was still nice to me even when I did my typical over-share routine and cried more because of my February emotions and general life malaise.

Then when I told her I wasn’t sure if what I thought I wanted was a Brazilian or something else, she made some unintelligible comments about the different kinds of things she could do and it made no sense to me, so I just said I’d go with the Brazilian.
And then she said “I’m Brazilian, I know” as if that was a pre-requisite or had ANYTHING to do with my na-na?!

She was basically the queen of everything.

Then she did her thing, which included spreading my legs wider than… I mean… than anyone who has ever needed to spread my legs open… smh. It hurt a lot, but not as much as I thought (because I clearly had no idea what was going to happen). And now here we are. Barely.

I don’t know, it’s whatever. 

That’s it.

hey, here’s an amazing video of me mid-lyric, about to take a picture in photobooth… but then i realize it’s a video. it’s amazing.

Cake Boss

Yesterday I baked a cake because it was Monday. I am crazy. it was Monday. - I have no idea why I baked a cake yesterday, but I did. (I have no idea why I do anything I do, really.)

I haven’t baked a cake or cooked a single thing (aside from one random night at midnight I made an incredibly unappealing pot of pasta that I picked at for three days and then threw away pretty much in its entirety) in this apartment (or any apartment) ever, but last night I was like, Yo, let me whip up a cake right now. (That’s how I speak in my daily life.)

So I did. Because, for another crazy reason, I happen to have boxes of cake mix lying around, despite the fact that I do not cook and I do not like cake. I also have boxes and boxes of pasta and rice and various other groceries I haven’t the slightest idea how to cook and have even less interest in learning how to cook… LIKE CAKE!!!!!!!!!

The last time i baked a cake was four or five years ago and it was for my then boyfriend (who is ten years older than me) for his birthday. And it was a two layer vanilla cake that I made from scratch - that I made four times from scratch. I messed up the cake three times. I made and remade this birthday cake for my then boyfriend (when i was 18 years old and had no job) four times. I then gave him this cake and planned a (TERRIBLE) surprise party (no one showed up.) and later, after the cake and after the party, he asked what his gift was. SMDH.

(On a scale of 1-10, how over hearing about my relationship with my ex boyfriend in 2005 are you? 11? or 12? I’m coming in around 11. I’m so sorry. But, trust me, I hate myself more than you hate me.)

I think I was appropriately traumatized by this person’s insensitivity and thus haven’t opened an oven since (except to store my shoes and hide my snacks)… until last night!

I nearly set my apartment on fire because I preheated the oven to 500? Or whatever the highest setting is and forgot to take out all of the junk that was sitting in it.

Here’s an absurd picture from a series of even worse pictures I was taking of myself when I started to smell glass and plastic burning. The fact that I was taking a “series of pictures” of me sitting on a couch while, simultaneously, I was trying to carry out a task involving an oven AT ALL is cause for concern (and, also, the cause of a potential disaster.)

…but then I got serious and baked a cake.

Here’s the shittiest thing I’ve ever made: