Ever since I started the Lexapro, my head feels cloudy from time to time, which makes me anxious, because obviously it means I have a brain aneurysm and I’m about to die and shit my pants in front of everyone on the train. I know it’s petty to be worried about shitting my pants after death, but I cannot be convinced not to be terrified of shitting my pants under any circumstances. This is a thing that happens (the cloudiness, not the dying/shitting) when you start medications like this, or so I hear, so I’m trying to be chill about it (L O L)
Luckily I was distracted by my covert (hopefully) attempts to get a picture of knock-off Christian Bale in American Psycho who was on my train this morning:
I’m so creepy lol
Another thing that’s happening right now is that I decided to stop washing my hair every day, because my sister told me not to, and I’m pretty sure you could use my head to keep muffins from sticking to a tin.
I’m taking a lot of big steps, y’all. It’s like I’m finally blossoming into the greasy, gas-filled butterfly I was always meant to be. Hmm, is that a mixed metaphor? Whatever.
By the way, on my way home from work, this dude lurched onto the train at 14th Street, sat down next to me (with a reasonable amount of space between us, godbless), and began to vigorously rub his bald scalp and entire face with this dirty-ass napkin. The two girls in front of us wearing matching Hard Rock Café sweatshirts and French braid pig tails looked him with that perplexed tourist expression, like “Is this a thing that New York people do?” (The answer is yes girl!) and looked down at their bags from the Ugg (read: ugh) Store to avoid looking at this bald-ass dude. He then got off at the next stop.
That’s it! Bye!