Here are some inexplicable excerpts, taken completely out of context, from the first two months. You’re welcome.
I’m going to try and journal for a year. One year. I don’t think I’ll be successful. I like to preface things by saying that I don’t think I’ll succeed at them. I love disclaimers. I’d like to make ten disclaimers for every single thing I do.
I think all this would be easier if there was a rule that you could go back into houses. Houses that you’d left, I mean. I just wish the leaving wasn’t so final. It’s a bit like a death, in some ways. Once someone dies, they can’t come to visit. You can’t call them. They can’t call you. They’re removed. It’s the same way with old houses. You don’t live there anymore. You can’t go spend time in your old living room, no matter what you did there or how familiar it is to you. This is your new living room now. You live here now. You got to love the one you’re with. But when I close my eyes, I see it all, I see it all over again.
Leanne says that “spaces matter.” People don’t think they do, she said, but they do. Spaces matter.
I’m a bottomless pit. I’m a planet.
I am so glad that I do not have to write all this out by hand. In reading old-timey horror novels from the 1800’s, they do a LOT of letter writing and journal keeping, so much so that I’m like….you’d have to dedicate….a significant portion of your day…like 65% at least….to just writing. I honestly don’t think I could keep up with it. Unless they’re so used to it that everyone in the 1800’s is just REALLY FAST at letter writing, but I doubt it. I am enjoying my foray into gothic novels of olde, but it annoys me to no end how the female characters are portrayed. They are constantly described as sweet. Like every other word is “She was sweet.” Uh, okay. Big fucking deal. Then when tragedy or unfortunate circumstances befall them, they kind of just….sit there and take it. They’re described as weak, pale, fainting, virtuous, etc. BORING. BoRING BORING BORING!!!!!! And the “weird sisters” (the three vampire ladies in Dracula’s castle) because they are seen as sexual, are constantly described as “unnatural.” Well, excuuuuuuse me, Bram Stoker, but just because a woman, undead though she might be, is sexually expressive, that doesn’t mean she’s unnatural. I read spark notes about it and this made me laugh so hard : Harker is simultaneously confronting a vampire and another creature equally terrifying to Victorian England: an unabashedly sexual woman. LOLOLOLOL stahp. And also this line : “My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little worthy of them?”
PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE. You can definitely tell that a man wrote this. Bram Stoker, you are one sick bastard and the patriarchy must be crushed. The women must help to defeat the vampires. Maybe they’d probably be a lot better at it than Van Helsing, who constantly is like “This woman is on the brink of death! But I gotta leave town for a few days, so you just make sure nothing else happens!” If I was Lucy Westenra, I wouldn’t just suffer through it. I’d at least use my intelligence and resources to find out why I appeared to be a triple anemic. Being demure is so over.
It’s weird to have a word like church in my vocabulary that has so many negative & positive connotations at the same time.
My friendships go bone deep. To the bone. The marrow of my bone. In my blood. In my oxygen.
I think he is a deeply lonely person. But not in the way that I’m lonely. In a different way. “It’s lonely-lonely, like the way you feel when you’re being hugged and it somehow makes you sadder.”
I’m making hot apple cider for the big pancake breakfast tomorrow. It looks like a witch’s brew.
She blushed and a slightly awkward moment passed, in which we both silently acknowledged the truth of what I’d said and the way I’d chosen to express it.
The communications department emailed me today. They want me to host the Trivia Lunch Hours for the United Way Campaign. After five years of working there, I really feel like I’m hitting my stride socially.
I also received an email from someone who insisted on getting “an estimated date of completion for [redacted] going forward.” HAHAHAHAHAHA. I emailed back and was like “No.” Then he called me. And was like “I’d be happier if I knew what was going on over there.” Jesus, be this man’s hedge of protection. Guard him from my wrath.
Bram Stoker is getting increasingly sexist. He really needs to slow his roll. I actually screamed at one of the things he said (I’ve been doing a lot of screaming today, which is very on point for Halloween season, so I feel good about it) – when Jonathan Harker says “I’m glad Mina is going to hold back and let us men do the work.” And at one point he also said something about how a woman couldn’t handle the strain of the work the men had to do. Let me tell you, if Bram Stoker wasn’t already dead, he would be well on his way with an attitude like that.
Pancake breakfast was cancelled due to inclement weather. I’ve never been more upset at cold weather in my life.
I just want to be the favourite person of everybody.
Sometimes I feel like I almost get my head around the concept of talking to Jesus. Hearing literal words. Hearing a literal voice. I feel like I can get close to it – the curtain between his reality and mine gets thinner and I see a shadow, a thin outline, something blurry, and then it’s just gone. Sometimes I get the same feeling that I get when I think of somebody I haven’t talked to in a long time, I think how good it would be to hear their voice. Then I think, I’ve never heard Jesus’ voice in the same way that I’ve heard Steph’s or Sarah’s voices. But I also feel like I have, but just can’t quite remember it. But still, it’s there, that feeling of having heard it and the feeling of missing someone who has gone very far away for a very long time. But I just forget. I forget that I miss him. Can you miss somebody if they never really leave? Sometimes I repeat those words from Jamie Wright’s book. I was with you. I was with you. I was with you. I forget that too. I forget everything good. I only remember the bad. Some people say the brain is wired that way.
I made soup tonight. It was delicious but I am eating too much fat things and gaining all my weight back. Make it stop! But also, continue it.
I have always felt as if the feeling of belonging was something I could never have, so I simply didn’t waste any thought on it. That’s not for you to have, the world seemed to say. But then I did have it. For a little while at least.
I keep thinking maybe I am supposed to fall in love with somebody. It just seems like a disagreeable chore that I’ve got to go ahead and get over with. But the thought of dating is repugnant.
And what – exactly – did we lose? If it was just the form…why don’t I still feel intact?
What is with white men being assholes? Constantly? Forever? Why won’t they stop?
She keeps being like, “But what if Brett Kavanaugh’s innocent?” Like, trust me. He’s not. I am so sick of people not believing women. Of people putting women on trial when they’re the ones that have been sinned against. Van Helsing would never tolerate such a thing. But things were more clearer in Van Helsing’s day.
Some days it seems like the only people who are speaking out against the hatred and abuse of women is….women. And not well-behaved women. Not Christian women. Women who are porn stars, women who are witches, women who take up physical and mental space. And then the “good” men whisper to us on the sides that they support us. But they never speak out. And so what’s changed really? Where is Jesus in that? What it does mean to be a man?
God. This journal is making me more philosophical by the goddamn second.
I also hung out with Sarah tonight. We watched a movie and I made chicken satay with peanut sauce and sweet hot pepper sauce and then she got tipsy-tipsy-tipsy on some pink wine. What a crazy bitch. Jkjkjk. I think I am realizing that I had not realized to what extent Sarah….is my home base. She just….became that. Over the years. And I didn’t notice.
Community living really fucked us up.
She said, it’s one of the few places where I have ever felt welcomed. When people say things like that, I’m like, what am I doing with my life. Why am I even trying to live any other way but that way? That is my holy calling. That. Right there. And I just….gave it up. No, that’s melodramatic. I haven’t. I’m just….putting it down for a while. I’m just sitting down and tilting my head toward the sun. That’s all. You are not expected to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
Am I turning into an inveterate man hater? Is this how villain origin stories start? I don’t want to hate men. But I am also done with their shit.
I need somebody bubbly to offset my whole….vibe.
Writing every day has also made me realize that I am really mourning the house. Like….I am in mourning. I am grieving. I honestly believed things would be different.
I feel like I’m a gigantic parody of myself.
Carly is my spooky friend.
Tomorrow at thanksgiving dinner I’m going to make a speech about how colonialism, white supremacy, and toxic masculinity are BAD AND EVIL before we eat dinner. Welcome to my Ted Talk. It’s my thanksgiving dinner and I’ll get on my soapbox if I want to. Plus, the babies need to know. Before they can even talk. We need to inform their environment with a zero-tolerance policy for misogynistic and racist bullshit. We must think of the babies.
Have I…has the house ending injured me? Am I injured? Do I have a wound?
Also boring, but turns out being an adult is just what I always thought it would be – a long string of boring decisions.
The thing about me is – I feel so alone and know that I need to be around people, but as soon as I leave my house and am with other people, I want nothing more than to leave them and go back to my house.
Sometimes you need a little mom motivation. A little mom-ivation.
As Kourtney Kardashian once said, I was ready to shove a taco up her ass.
I’m already like, OF COURSE we should own EVERYTHING communally! How fun would that be! I’m a product of my environment and I’ve been brainwashed.
I want to journal quickly so I can go back to listening to this UTTERLY FASCINATING book we’re reading for book club called Before We Were Yours. I haven’t been this obsessed with a book…in a long time. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. That I was LOW KEY obsessed with Frankenstein. But I could honestly put Frankenstein down. It was like, yeah, this was fun, I’ll see you when I see you. With this book it’s like, I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT OR I WILL LITERALLY DIE. Dracula is SO OVER. Dracula wasn’t even that good. Bram Stoker….was a total freak show. And not in a cool way. Just in a…”Ugh, okay, fine, whatever” kind of way. I think he was like pretty weird sexually. Just from reading the book. Anyway, who cares about him. The book I’m listening to now is where it’s at.
I would eat pomegranates all the time if it didn’t make me look like I’d murdered a small village.
. I ALWAYS dream about the LIBRARY at my junior high school. Like, 50% of the time, that’s where my dreams take place. Isn’t that so weird? How do I, like, delete that option? Or reset it or….dreaming is exhausting. My dreams are exhausting me emotionally.
I actually fixed her with my stern librarian stare at one point. She is just TOO annoying.
Also, why do people need to have a role? But it seems like people do need to have one.
I am so invested in the characters that at this point it wouldn’t be a stretch for me to get their names tattooed on my lower back.
My life will be over. Not technically. But I think in a spiritual sense, yes.
(Mental note : Sometimes when I talk about Sarah it sounds like she’s my husband.)
I feel like Rob Lowe in that one episode of Parks and Rec where he makes eye contact with himself in a mirror, points at himself and vehemently whispers “STOP POOPING.” Like, believe me, I wish I could. More than anything. More than anything in this life or the next.
Elena said to me today, “You really like having people over for dinner!” And for some reason it made me feel sad. I don’t know why. Maybe…because….cooking for people…is like my….replacement thing. Not my replacement thing, but almost like something I do in memoriam. It’s like if someone lost a child and took up surfing. And then someone was like, “Wow, you really like surfing!” Ye…..es. I do. I suppose I do. It’s not like I’d RATHER be doing HOC stuff. It isn’t like that. It’s just…this is the thing I do now.
I dreamed about being in the HOC four nights in a row this week. Little images keep running through my head. Cleaning my room. Lying in bed staring at the wall. Washing the walls once the room had been emptied. I feel….haunted.
I read that Ellen Pompeo going to quit Grey’s Anatomy. “I’m ready to mix it up and try something new!” She declares. Oh, Ellen. You think you are. You think you’re so done with it. You know in your heart you have to move on. You know it’s time to make room for something new. But leaving it isn’t like how it is in books. You have to reshape your heart. And you’re sore all over.
Brianne says Des refuses to be friends with anybody who shushes her. I was like….she can…do that? That is my new life goal.
Laurel’s son Peter is so cute but he was being so shy with me. I was like Don’t you even fucking dare be shy with me, Peter. I’m gonna be around for the rest of your life so you might as well get used to this now.
It was my five year anniversary at work today. They posted about it on our intranet. 23 people commented saying “Congratulations” or a variation on that theme, and I got a card from Our Lord and Saviour [redacted]. It said “Congratulations you’re a valuable part of the team.” If I hadn’t seen that it was his handwriting I would have assumed his assistant had written it. God, [redacted]. Take a little pride in your work.
Of course I can’t say NO now, not unless I want to look like a TOTAL ASSHOLE. So I was like Fine. I’ll do it. But I am NOT HAPPY about it. Then I replied “I am willing to do it.” I volunteer as tribute. I will take the ring to Mordor. [redacted] replies, “Great, Megan! What a good opportunity for you!” What. A. Good. Opportunity. For. Me. Well, if I wasn’t planning your death before, I certainly am now.
I even made the best Arrested Development reference EVER. Mel was asking Jeff about the budget and he was like, “Oh, we’ll find money somewhere,” and I yelled, “THERE’S ALWAYS MONEY IN THE BANANA STAND!!!!!!!!!!!!” Nothing. Just blank stares. Well, I laughed at my awesome jokes enough for all of us, so….who’s the real winner here.
I used to live in a community house and now I don’t. You can say that out loud, but nobody really knows what you mean.
Trivia hour at lunch today. Drew told me “Thanks Megan that was fun!” Like he was surprised that I’m such a fun girl.
I was even too tired to really pay attention to a television show. FIX IT JESUS. Sarah got home eventually and I practically threw myself at her. I was like YES FINALLY SOMEONE WHO IS NOT MY CAT WILL INTERACT WITH ME!!!!!
Where does Sarah go? Still have no clue what she gets up to. I should hire a private investigator. Or put one of those tracking things on her cell phone.
I refuse to ask anyone out. I just feel like I can’t take shoulder that responsibility. Somebody else has to do that. The mark of a good leader is knowing when to delegate.
Then I was like, did I emotionally traumatize her with my “stories”? Well, maybe.
Young Aamanda came over too. She texted me being like “I miss you guys!” And I was like “Come over for dinner!” And she just texts back “Wow.” I was like….so does that mean you’re coming, or…. And she texts back “What else would I mean?” Hahaha she’s such a glorious weirdo.
I enjoyed it but I also struggs to func after about 10 pm. I was like God. I can’t. I have to go home now. I’m dying. Why do all these retirees have more energy than me.
Lady Gaga says baby when it’s love if it’s not rough it isn’t fun but I don’t know if I agree 100%.
I got crunk last night. It was [redacted]. And the whiskey shots. I can’t refuse when [redacted] says “Let’s do shots together!” I’m just like yeah that sounds like a great idea. I can see no possible downside to this.
I continue to be balls deep in financial instability.
It was fun but I was hella motion sick right after. Welcome to your 30s, bitch.
Finally the girls of today can grow up with female characters who are nuanced. Who are strong and gentle. Who are beautiful and brave. They don’t wait to be rescued. They don’t get overwhelmed and faint. When girls grow up watching things like this, it has an effect on the landscape. We can let females be themselves and there’s still going to be an audience for it, people are still going to respond, and in so doing we start to change the toxicity of how the female is viewed, how she portrays herself, how she’s represented. She’s a whole person. She’s not just a body. She’s not just a person the story happens to. As Charlotte Bronte writes in Jane Eyre, “Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal — as we are!”
2018 we’re dating men who want to know what our favourite colour is and shit. That being said I did text him five minutes later. Because I’m sick and need PROFESSIONAL HELP.
When [my friend’s child] is interacting with me I just feel like I’m magic and the world is magic. [redacted] went in the tub topless, which made me laugh. She said, “We have a weirdly intimate friendship.” I want to be weirdly intimate with everybody, some days.
Today on Instagram Glennon Doyle said that God is a woman and fear cannot survive proximity. I think she’s the Oprah for millennials.
But I just said “I still feel a little off kilter.” Well, that’s putting it fucking lightly.
I mean I’ve always thought of happy as an overrated feeling. But I think that I don’t really even know what happiness is. I mean, I’ve felt it. But I’ve never tried to hold on to it. Is everyone trying to feel happy? Is that why we’re all here? I don’t know what my purpose is or if there even is such a thing. Do you think we’re really worried over like that? Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Well, maybe it’s so.
I feel like a 13 year old girl every time I write in here about boys but whatever it’s what all the cool kids are doing.
I never thought I would understand something like that because I got enough attention and I was always like, what is everyone’s problem. But it turns out what I am JUST as attention whorey as the worst of us.
He is the most mansplainy on the planet. I had to say “I know” five different times today. I KNOW. It’s like the part in Hercules when Hades keeps screaming “I KNOOOOOOOOOOOW” at the fates and his hair explodes into blue fire. I’m the same as Hades, the Lord of the Underworld. I always knew it would come to this.
This is all Membership’s fault! They keep their yummy snacks on the counter and it’s making me fat again! This is also the Patriarchy’s fault because the Patriarchy says that women have to be thin so they will take up less space. This one is for the fat girls. Shake the dust.
I am really starting – now – to miss the physical space of the house. Like….I can’t look at pictures of the old house without feeling a pang in my chest. And it’s not because oh, I miss those people or that moment, I miss the actual house. I miss the house. I miss the walls. I miss the floor. It’s like the house becomes incarnate in my absence. It wasn’t much, but it was home. It was home, it was home, it was home. I can’t just forget that.
I tried learning the choreography to Britney spears baby one more time tonight.
“It drove her to distraction the way women wanted to bond over self-hatred.” I am reading Big Little Lies right now and it is SO GOOD.
The bravado all went out of me. I just felt like there was no use in pretending and that I couldn’t pretend and that I was very tired and I was very sad, and maybe just to have your family close is good enough. You don’t always have to be on all the time.
When we were together – the five of us – I would forget. About sadness, and despair, and not feeling good enough. I felt protected from outside forces. That was mostly because of Liam. Liam is so Liam that you can’t help but feel that way.
I planned to go up to my room and take a bath and just….curl up with it. But Sarah said, “Do you want to take a bath together and read books?” Hahaha. At first I was like, I think I want to be alone. But then I thought, maybe it’s okay to be with someone when you’re sad.
I wonder if the new HOC tenants feel like that. I wonder if they feel the ghosts. I hope they do. I hope they know it’s not theirs. It’s ours.
I feel like I’m supposed to be having more fun.
I cannot understand boys. I’ve also become haunted by this fixation that all interest is transactional. Steph says it is. But she didn’t seem bothered by it. Whereas I’m like “OH GOOD another reason to SUSPECT everyone and put EVERYONE on trial.”
Important social media discovery of the day : JANN ARDEN IS FRIENDS WITH THE BLOGGESS AND COMMENTS ON ALL HER POSTS. I am LIVING.
I’ve discovered my favourite friends are the ones that just let me be.
Why do I like making fun of my own religion so much? Why am I the worst?
People like to blame Jews for things, he says. They always have. It won’t change. I was like hmm that’s a little dark but I respect your verve. JK, I said….does that you make you feel angry, or resigned? He said neither. It’s inevitable because Jews are disproportionately wealthy to everyone else. So of course it’d make sense that we are hated and blamed. I did not know how to respond to that. If that’s true, why aren’t WHITE MEN hated and blamed? But didn’t feel that the time was appropriate to bring that up. So I just said oh well. I like you guys. He said “thanks pal.” I was like…pal? Did I just get friendzoned? Not much odds if I had been. I could never be with anyone who is here to “convince, not correct.” He also told me he’s an ACTOR and a WRITER. God. Could he BE any more obsessed with himself? Sophie says that’s code for “I don’t have a real job and am not interested in getting one.”
I don’t understand why it is so hard for people just to respond to texts. It isn’t rocket science. Literally everyone knows how to do it.
Another guy on tinder messaged me today asking what level of feminism I was at. But he misspelled the word feminist. He said “Femenist.” What level of Femenist are you. Ugh. I should have known then what I know now. I asked him what the different levels were and he said he just wanted to make sure that I shaved, because he didn’t want to be with anyone who had unshaven pits. I was like, great. I wasn’t sure at what point I gave you permission to comment on my body when we haven’t even met yet, but that’s fine.
I’m NOT going to seize the day. I’m going to lie in bed and read my book. Leave me alone forever. But also, never leave me alone. Mom says I’m the most extroverted introvert she’s ever met, and I go to more parties than any introvert she’s ever met. She called me a party girl. I still haven’t sorted out my feelings about that and I don’t know if I ever will.
I would have been like bitch it’s on let’s go I will fight you right now I will verbally spank you and everyone you’ve ever loved ALL NIGHT – ALSO your child is a FREAK and NOT in a cool way.
“Special yard friends” makes them sound like weird jailbirds, but that’s fine, [redacted], you little psycho.
I don’t feel good about wanting to fight a four year old. But four year olds are sometimes the worst assholes of us all, and that’s not MY fault.
I know how I simultaneously hate and like being hugged when I’m really upset, and I’m never sure which way I’m going to swing. Will I hate this physical touch or will it be the most important thing in my life in the current moment? Maybe we’ll never know.
Then I was like, Megan. You need to chill. I DON’T WANT TO CHILL! I WANT TO FIGHT! Counterphobic sixes. Aren’t they just a huge drag.
You’d be more fulfilled, people say. But I’d rather not be more fulfilled. I’d rather just have my book and my nap.
I kept thinking of my bed and my book and how good it would feel to just go home. I kept checking the clock. I also had a good time, but I honestly couldn’t wait for it to be over. That seems to be the way it is. Enjoying things, and also wanting them to be over.
It seems like as soon as I start to enjoy things, I feel an awareness of it being too good to last, so I should be proactive and end it first before it anything starts to turn sour. I also just want to be home, most of the time, I wish I was at home, I wish I was tucked into bed, I wish, I wish, I wish. As David Sedaris says, “I wanted, I wanted, I wanted, until it was mine, and then it ceased to interest me.”
I love villainous females. Bellatrix Lestrange, Ursula, Cruella de Vil….it’s just my THING. Maybe because I hate how it seems that females are tolerated or loved in direct correlation to how good they are, how well they behave. It always feels that we’re taught that we have to earn love because the female is distinctly unlovable.
The one part of church I enjoyed was when Rod commented on my “sultry tub photos” I shrieked like a witch who’s seen the reckoning.
I am unbelievably hyped. I’m psychotic. I’m psychotically hyped. I’m hyperactively psychotic about Christmas.
I don’t want to reduce Jesus or trivialize him with Buddy Jesus. I think I don’t want to because it feels slimy, but also because he’s my friend and I don’t disrespect my friends. That was a realization I had. Jesus is a friend of mine? Is he? I always say there’s no way to really “be friends” with Jesus. But I actually realized that I do think of him in that way, or in the way that he’s a person who I care about and want to protect. I think that realization is somehow important.
I was surprised Mary Shelley hadn’t seen the comedic side of the whole situation.
Busted on the couches today by [redacted]. With my ham sandwich. Oh, the ham sandwich. I knew it would one day be my downfall. The very height of unprofessionalism.
The couches are gone. THEY ARE GONE. That will teach me to flaunt my ham sandwich! I was actually really upset and I almost cried. I am totally devastated. I have suffered a great loss. And potentially we would not get couches again until we moved. THAT’S OVER A FUCKING YEAR FROM NOW! GOD. If ever there was a reason to quit, this is it.
[redacted], who is sickeningly skinny, was like “None for me thanks” – I just stared at her like, so that’s how this bitch does it. Do you think you’re better than me? Because you can pass up cake? Then I ate so much icing I got a sugar headache.
I was listening to a really interesting podcast with Lena Dunham and Dax Shepherd and it is incredible how much of a four she is. Like, she honestly sounded like she was describing type fours in general but she was just describing herself. It blew my GODDAMN MIND.
I have turned into the most basic bitch of all time. I’m just like “SPILL THE TEA, GIRRRRRRRRRRRL” and then I’m like…how old am I? Have I matured at all? Do I just love to gossip?
Apparently she didn’t go to counseling or anything but just claimed that Jesus had totally cured her. Oh my sweet angel. That is not how things like that work. (Or maybe they do and I’m just an asshole?) No, I’m pretty sure they don’t.
Basically, I don’t feel like being required to regulate my resultant emotions that I get when having to interact with others.
She doesn’t know me well enough to know that that I’m constantly Eeyore on the inside so she never treats me like I’m a fragile, breakable thing.
I keep remembering Calley doing that giant leap when everyone was playing giant dutch blitz. It makes me laugh like a loon every time.
Steph convinced me to go. She said I had to because I need some fucking stability in times of transition.
I ate so much sugar at work today I thought I was going to pass out. I just kept going. I NEED TO STOP! But there were maracons. Macarons and they were high quality. I love how everyone gets so into Halloween at work.
[redacted] dressed up as….Thriller? And then performed the entire Thriller dance?? Brianne was like, “How on earth are they going to top that next year?” They had dry ice in a bowl, for God’s sake.
Charlotte was like, “Let’s play a drinking game!” And I was like yeah let’s do it and then she was like “Should we do shots?!” Should we do SHOTS? On a SCHOOL NIGHT? I think the fuck not. Turns out Charlotte is a wild woman in her old age. But we did play a drinking game with coolers, so. Guess I’m a mildly wild woman as well.