#Goals

It's all well and good to say that I have goals, or #goals, or whatever. The only thing is I can say I have goals all day long until I'm blue in the face because I never, ever ever accomplish them. I don't know why, it's like some faulty wiring thing or something where I just don't give a shit. I know there are people who will lose it if they finish a goal and it didn't go quite as expected, me I'm over here like "oh ya,one time I said I was going to ____________, but then puppies or something came up so I don't care anymore."

Which is more than likely a fucking terrible mindset. So, even if I start small I have to be doing a better job than I have in the past, right?
So little goals, they're the kind that help you get your head straight, I think, again I'm new here. So if I start with little challenges for myself I can work up to bigger and better things.
 First one should obviously be I need to either become a better employee or find another job. Seriously, I'm awful and I get that, but once again, I have no motivation to do anything about it. If I were any other species besides human I would probably be dead by now, from the 'meh'-ness that I run my life with. I would have been eaten, or stranded on an island or nabbed by a hunter (here's hoping I'd be in a rich old mans study. At least that way I could say I ended up with a rich old man.).

Therefore, Attainable Goal #1: I need to get my fucking appearance together. Yes, that is insanely vain, I understand that, however I blame my laziness as well as the current culture. When I'm able to go everywhere in stretchy, soft, athleti-leisure "clothes" that are acceptable everywhere that's all I'm going to put on, and boy do I.

I have the most beautiful winter coat. It's red wool. It's full length. It has a white fox color that nestles in and frames my face and keeps me warm and fabulous. It has black leather gloves that look soft and beautiful with it. It is winter time.

It looks abhorrent with yoga pants. It looks pitiful with knockoff Uggs. As a result of my want to be comfortable my beautiful winter coat has taken a back hook in my closet. Where it sits all by it's lonesome.

It didn't used to. If it was going to work or out for the night it was in great company with dresses that had sequins and wiggle skirts. All of the appropriate underpinnings were in place. After all, tights are terrible, they cut you off at the stomach and dig in and make you look lumpy and strange. They always sag at the crotch or they don't stretch right around your thigh and then you spend all day looking like an idiot that yanks and pulls their midsection up.   A decent garter belt and stockings will stay in place and make everything smooth and unless you get the errant pop of a strap, nothing is going to migrate.

Then you have to finish everything with Proper. Shoes.

Now, of course a six inch heel isn't a proper shoe, but the difference between a beautiful knee high boot and the floppy  brown shearling nightmare is incredible.

At this point though, it isn't even just the shoe. When I'm dressed correctly, everything is better. My posture, my attitude, my humor. It can't all be in my head that even in the darkest, coldest and ickiest of winters I'm ready to go meet a friend, or cook a delicious meal or just go outside of my house.

Instead.
I come home.
take off my awful "real people grown up" uniform.
Put on something else stretchy, stick my hair up and commence sitting in sadness.

So. First goal. Start dressing like a real human. It's going to fucking suck. It takes work, I get that. It's also going to suck because all of this time dressing in forgiving fabrics I'm no longer the same shape, spandex is like a grocery bag, it adjusts to whatever you put in it and you can just keep filling it up. So now I look like a stocking that's filled with mashed potatoes. That stops now.

Until the end of the year, it's real human time. If I can achieve this simple goal of being a person, then I know I can move on to bigger, scarier and more fun goals. Not to mention, why the fuck wouldn't I want to dress like a human? It's more fun, it's more colorful, it feels good to know that I've currated a beautiful wardrobe that's unique to me. Yes it's vain, and I don't give a shit.

My History.

Not where I've come from or things that I've done, no. I mean my Internet History. Which is seriously fucked.

We can start at the beginning which is that my internet history isn't usually something sparkling. Not anything that I would be wildly embarrassed to defend. Sure, there's a lot of creepy stuff:
Podcasts  about potential murderers, weird wikipedia articles , pictures of things  Ed Gein made with skin,  awful taxidermy, incessant watching of the Elisa Lam  elevator video and that post about Disney Prince dicks.

Like I said, weird, yes, but nothing I'm ashamed of or would have to defend. Enter Jerry Springer: The Opera.

Aside from the fact that the music is so hard I wanted to quit on the first day and just do costumes this show is jam packed with all sorts of weirdness. Never have I had to look at a Klan robe with so much scrutiny (and also realize that it's basically an angel costume, so score...sort of?), which have you looked up the Klan recently? They have ridiculous names that sound made up:

• Klabee - treasurers
• Klavern - local organization
• Imperial Kleagle - recruiter
• Klecktoken - initiation fee
• Kligrapp - secretary
• Klonvocation - gathering
• Kloran - ritual book
• Kloreroe - delegate
• Imperial Kludd - chaplain

That's right a KLEAGLE. Kleagle people, like a Klan Beagle or the mispronunciation of your junk muscles. "Hey I read in Kosmo how to improve my Vagina muscles through Kleagles." Gross guys. 

Now lets talk about the outfits because, really, for people that have a problem with tolerance they sure do wear some gay stuff. I don't  mean that in a jr. high boy insult sort of way either I mean look at this: 

That's a whole lot of purple satin for some people who have a problem with color and religious beliefs. Don't even get me started on that green, or is that emerald? Either way, I had no clue that the Klan loved them some lux fabrics. 

Speaking of things that are disturbing and you can't get back: 

What is that you ask? Oh let me tell you please. I'm not here to spoil any ones good time, I'm not. I also am trying my best to not judge something that I don't understand and that happens between consenting adults but those are Frilled PVC Clear Adult Diapers. Why you ask? I don't want the details but you will be able to see all that shit smashed into the wearers butt if that's what you're into. Look. At. Them. 

These are the things currently sitting in my Google history, which yes I can clean, and I can do incognito, but even worse than them sitting in my history is that I now have them sitting in my brain. They don't make brain bleach y'all, there are only so many kitten videos out there for that. 

Now excuse me, I have to go buy adult diapers and make my own rainbow KKK robes in Zak Farmer size. 

I'll just leave this here.