Rambles

IT’S MONSOON SEASON

Sometimes I look back at my blogs and realize I look like a narcissistic, sweaty psychopath, and wonder if that’s what any potential cute boys would see. And I realize that I’m probably shooting myself in the foot—romantically and literally—with this blog. But that’s fine. Plenty of people are single—Jesus never had a bae. Oh my god, I just compared myself to Jesus; I am the literal Anti-Christ. I’m Sweaty Betty.

Segue!

Anyway, onto swamp-ass!

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I feel like I’ve mentioned it before, but I am a very sweaty human. I don’t think people expect it of me, because with this face and this body-ody-ody, I don’t think people expect much of anything from me.

But I’m so sweaty.

I’m sweaty but I’m also a nervous sweater. So whenever I feel awkward or uncomfortable, especially about sweating, I sweat even more. It’s really quite a problem.

The other day I went on a run, and I had to walk at multiple points, but at the end of the run, I was so sweaty that when I leaned against my kitchen table, I lifted my arm to reveal a smear of sweat. I looked like I had just done an Iron Man, with my bangs flopping against my forehead, but I had barely jogged two miles.

This post has no real point to it—spoiler alert, I guess—but I just thought of it because I was lying in bed—literally not moving at all except to drag my hand across the mousepad—scrolling through Tumblr and I sat up and I was so sweaty from scrolling through Tumblr that I reapplied deodorant. I also wear deodorant to bed. I didn’t realize that wasn’t a thing until I was in a hotel room with my parents and they were like:

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Parents: What are you doing?

Me: Putting on deodorant, duh.

Parents: People don’t do that.

My Armpits: THIS BITCH DOES.

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I’m also a handshaker, which leads to uncomfortable amounts of “Let me just wipe my hands on my pants first” jokes, which are jokes but also truths. However, I pride myself on my handshake. My mom once told me that there is nothing worse than a limp handshake, and I figured that if I already had one moist strike against me, it’s best not to add another one. So my handshake is firm but wet.

Side bar: “Firm, But Wet,” is the title of my directorial debut into pornography. Hitting Brazzers this spring! The TV adaptation will follow soon afterwards.

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I have this theory that I’m a more highly evolved human. Wait, don’t click away. It’s just a theory. But I have a theory that I’m more highly evolved because I don’t have wisdom teeth. Well, I do, but they’ll never drop down into my jawline. Wisdom teeth are, like, a holdover from when our jaws were wider so as to better mash food into our prehistoric maws. As the human race has evolved, our jaws have become smaller, making wisdom teeth not such a ~smart~ decision. That was a joke. It flopped. Much like my career. Anyway, we don’t have a point for wisdom teeth anymore. So obviously, because mine won’t drop, my body recognizes this fact, ergo I am further along in evolution than you.

But the sweating thing kind of throws off my theory. Apparently while my jaw thinks I’m some sort of post-human, my sweat glands think that I’m a Neanderthal chases a moose across the vast swatches of forest in Canada or whatever.

So I guess this post does have a point. I’m half super-evolved and half not-evolved, so I guess that makes me…regular-evolved. Fuck.

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