by Megan Boyle
me: hell yeah
Ex-boyfriend: might have to eat wih my gates oarents tho
hated parents
um
what u do
u skeep?
me: yeah
L
like 3:30-now
Ex-boyfriend: my ne true loves on r u chattin wirh her J
me: ;)
yeah she’s sitting next to me
we’ve been talking about you
and your cool dick
she says ‘i miss your cool dick kisskisskisskisskisskiss!!!’
i wanna watch jeop
i eating papaya mon
bati boy
Sent at 6:58 PM on Tuesday
Ex-boyfriend: bati
pennsylvanianlottery
where u gat papi, papi
let itngo bad we can throw it in lake nummy
me: lookin for jeop
fuckin
mexico
one plate at a time
fu kin
Ex-boyfriend: (an actual lake in NJ)
chan 6
me: OH I GOT IT
we got a canadian on our hands
saskatchewan
Ex-boyfriend: canadian girl
regina
me: yeah
yeah
rhymes with…
Ex-boyfriend: ah, green short
luck of the brogue
im gonna focus now peqce
me: kk me too
alex likes to start off the week with a big win, he is nice
Sent at 7:01 PM on Tuesday
me: jesus that text unscrambler thing. ‘trout: that’s the fish’
Ex-boyfriend: rewindind to catch stuff i missed
me: oic
Ex-boyfriend: im a strug
oh great, got it
worked 7 hours today on doddly affairs
u twlk to dad?
me: nah
i’m a bad dog today
call dad tonight
Ex-boyfriend: o???.
oic
me: i just went gug gug
jeop back
Ex-boyfriend: datong websites peace
me: the guy looks like real estate agent
peace
Sent at 7:07 PM on Tuesday
7:07PM: christine, a contestant from regina, saskatchewan, visited alex trebek’s hometown of sudberry, ontario when she was a child. alex asked if she remembered anything. she said ‘why yes, alex, i did!’ and talked about deciding not to be a miner after visiting a nickel mine, but she enjoyed the science center. alex looked pleased. i think alex is a good person. he said ‘i like to start the week with a big win.’
alex said ‘christine! you knew this! be audacious! go again!’ christine kept flinching when she knew the answer but rachel or the other guy would buzz in first. alex says things he thinks no one hears, i think, like ‘the nineties: a decade not far away from now’ and ‘trout: that’s the fish’ and ‘yes, ‘showboat,’ which was filmed right here in this studio.’
christine lost. here is the rest of the gchat:
me: knew rachel would only do 1000
Ex-boyfriend: i hate rachel
alex doesnt care about cathedral arches
me: she had to say ‘weigh’
‘what is weigh’
she was right thoguh
yeah i know, he doesn’t
he cares about the big nickel
in sudberry
he just wants to hear about the science center from his hometown
sudberry ontario
Ex-boyfriend: what was about weigh
me: anchors
and decisions
forget category name
Ex-boyfriend: oh yeah
words ending in gh
me: yeah
i liked the scrambled fish
the fish unscrambler
Sent at 7:13 PM on Tuesday
me: imagine how much slower it would be if the audience clapped
after every answer
Ex-boyfriend: lo
l
mom knew Brigadune
me: dayng
mama [mom’s name]
big [mom’s name] in tht ehouse
knowing brigadune
i knew ‘elf’
rachel did 2000 that time
Ex-boyfriend: yeah and got it wrong
me: yeah
Ex-boyfriend: Steamnoat
what a twat
me: hehehe
she’s a real steamboat
Ex-boyfriend: kind of hope she wins for a long time
me: she’s a real stanley steamer
yeah…
i kind of like her
i like her long neck
and her something
that little somethign she has
medieval arches
that’s the pizza i ate
at mom’s
Ex-boyfriend: enjoy hating her
me: dr. oetker
yeah
wish there was always the fish unscrambler
Ex-boyfriend: diet stuff and fropiz
me: instead of a 3rd contestant
Ex-boyfriend: same lol
me: fish unscrambler
Ex-boyfriend: Hripms
me: hmmmmm.
SKRIMS
i think the answer is:
mt everest
u?
lol
;p;
oops
thought he made a huge typo
bye rachel
i hate that guy who won
internet dating champ
Ex-boyfriend: imthoight it was ISS too
dimmer
peace
me: pace
Sent at 7:27 PM on Tuesday
Ex-boyfriend: im a charter wchool vice principal
Sent at 7:51 PM on Tuesday
8:02PM: TV has been on at a low volume while i’ve been typing. people in spandex leotards and face paint are jumping from a high platform into a pool in a neither competitive nor synchronized manner. like, twenty people.
8:48PM: recorded video tour of apartment and uploaded to youtube. now in living room, smoking cigarette. it’s okay that i didn’t do anything today. i’ll do things tomorrow. using today as negative reinforcement for tomorrow.
10:37PM: ate three or four bites of hot ass leftovers. enduring hot ass acid reflux. alvie burned his tail on a candle and ran. phone is making noises. TV is on mute. feel like i’m in a waiting room.
man’s voice coming from downstairs just yelled, ‘i told you to fucking [muffled] when he [muffled] the goddamned [muffled].’ a door slammed.
11:12PM: selected ‘more comfortable and so better chances of outrunning whoever’s chasing me’ shoes instead of ‘red shoes’ for cigarette-garnering journey from apartment to parking spot and back.
MARCH 27, 2013
1:20AM: going to change up the game. really. um. this is really going to happen. so, in grad school, my dad and his friend motivated themselves to finish their dissertations by agreeing to mail one $100 check to the nixon administration for every day late.
so.
here is what i must do by tomorrow 12AM, this is my ‘dissertation:’
• return attorney’s phone call about accident settlement i’m receiving
• write and print cover letter at library
• mail apartment application binder
• mail book packages
• call dad about getting keys to storage unit thursday
• refill birth control
• pack one box
• shower
• drink kale smoothie
here is what happens if i fail to complete ONE of these tasks, this is my ‘nixon fund:’
when i receive the accident settlement, i will have 50% of the bills printed and set them on fire in a trash can.
the settlement—the last i’ve heard—is slightly more than what i had in my savings account this fall.
i don’t want to ta
lk about how long it took to spend. the sum of money, without 50% of its bills destroyed, is enough to ‘start being a person again,’ for a comfortable, in my view, amount of time, as i settle into a job, a more stable routine, a life that allows me to envision a future for myself, less commas, etc.
the stakes are very high.
these are very high stakes.
OH SHIT I HAVE TO ADD A STAKE, HEIGHTENED SHORT-TERM STAKE, SO YOU WILL KNOW ABOUT THE LONG-TERM THING IN CASE I STOP LIVEBLOGGING BEFORE THE LONG-TERM THING—
if i fail to complete any task on the list i will post a picture of my naked ass ‘as is’ on this liveblog.
oh, that’s nothing, you say? you say this is mere child’s play?
THE ASS CHEEKS WILL BE SPREAD.
now i know people tend to enjoy pictures of women’s asses. most people. or. i guess most people would find the pictures interesting, at least. some people, not most people. okay. but consider this: i have my period, so if i fail to shower…that’s all. just consider this. i’m sorry in advance. now you will be rooting for me maybe.
i am dreading this so hard and i am so excited. so excited about dreadful tomorrow. such high stakes. jesus. i’m completely serious about both of these things. if i fail to complete the tasks and fail to complete my punishments, any person has the right to kill me. this is my will, i’m saying this, this can be legally binding: if i ever end up murdered by a person, i am hereby decreeing it ‘not their fault,’ if that does anything—i do not want them to be punished. i wouldn’t want that anyway. but. just so the world knows, if it makes any difference—if they killed me it would be less like ‘murder’ and more like ‘performing a civic duty.’
i’m not kidding. i know this sounds funny or whatever but i’m not kidding. GOODNIGHT, INTERNET.
LOOK OUT.
FOR TOMORROW.
BABY’S DAY OUT TOMORROW. A REAL B.D.O. TOMORROW, B.D.O. OF MONUMENTAL PROPORTIONS. TAKING MYSELF TO…TOWN. MAKING MYSELF THE MAYOR. OF THE TOWN. THERE IS A TOWN, BY THE WAY. WHEN EX-BOYFRIEND AND MOM ARE AWAY THE SHITHEAD COMES OUT TO PLAY. UFF. TRY AND MESS. B.D.O. 2013.
SIGNING OFF,
YOUR LITTLE BITCHES FOREVER,
LEGALLY BINDINGLY YOURS,
ME AND DUNKIN DONUTS COFFEE CUP
6:04AM: this is not off to a good start. sometimes if i’m alone and i’m supposed to be going to sleep i get ‘the fear.’ big reveal thing: i slept in my parents’ bed at least once a week until i was maybe 12 years old. if i wasn’t sleeping in their bed, they let me sleep on a sleeping bag on the floor. when i was a baby i would cry and not sleep. when i got older i wouldn’t cry but still couldn’t sleep. remember watching ‘mash’ re-runs and infomercials on the couch around age 8, with the volume low so my parents wouldn’t hear.
remember there being ‘events.’ after giving up/giving in to me, parents would be like, ‘maybe we’ll try to make megan sleep in her bed again, wanna try again meg?’ i’d be like ‘yeah let’s do this.’ they’d be like ‘okay, how about the fifth of july?’
this is the routine that needed to be established for me to be able to sleep in my bed:
1. say goodnight to all my ‘friends’ (in my memory there was like, a wall of stuffed animals almost, filling half of my bed).
2. either parent reads three storybooks.
3. mom improvises a few stories with magical undertones.
4. dad sits on the floor by bed and we meditate until i’m sleeping.
when i was 12 or 13 my parents gave me a portable TV and i’d watch the home shopping network in bed. think that’s part of why i like ASMR videos, would feel ASMR things looking at HSN. have never told anyone all of this the extent i’m typing it now, i think, that it was a rare occasion for me to sleep in my bed. i was a scared little asshole.
tonight i felt ‘the fear.’ ‘the fear’ causes me to do ritual/preparation-like things. i don’t feel it as much anymore, after living alone for three and a half years in baltimore, but sometimes if there’s a small change i still feel it. i didn’t do the thing where i check all the places another person can be tonight. here is what happened:
STAGE 1: VAGUE FOREBODING SHIT
• peed, replaced tampon. saw roach on my conditioner and thought ‘this doesn’t bode well, the bugs have returned. it’s on my conditioner, like what i’ll use tomorrow. should i kill it?’ then i could see its head being separate from its body, like it had a little neck or something. seemed hard to kill.
• washed face and brushed teeth while feeling the first stages of ‘the fear’ where i’m like, just looking around differently. looking at things more carefully.
• ate 1mg xanax, via ‘it’ll lessen [something] about dying.’
• refreshed dry cat food and gave them wet food thinking ‘if i die tonight they will have enough to eat until ex-boyfriend returns.’
• rubbed experimental ‘nighttime lotion’ on my face and neck. think a parent gave it to me. felt like this was ‘a protective ritual.’
• made bed and brushed all the crumbs/debris stuff off the sheet. this was just for fun.
• dressed in cherry-printed pajama pants given to me by former baltimore neighbor/co-worker, current close friend and ‘will always be one of my favorite people who i love and aspire to be like in some way’ person, chelsea. was going to leave on shirt i was wearing today, which chelsea also has but we bought before we knew each other, then thought: ‘no. it will be too perfect: ‘she died wearing the clothes of someone she wished she was more like,’ then it’ll definitely happen.’ in the past i’ve thought i could increase probability of airplane landing safely if i’d listen to weird al or other unrealistic music to die to.
• applied protective clothing layer: long-sleeved shirt ex-boyfriend bought the day of his 2010 baltimore reading, when he stayed the night at my apartment and we had fun platonic fun all night and the next day.
STAGE 2: PLAN DEFENSE AND FLEE
• tried different lighting schemes. the best lighting to let someone know there is a person inside, ready to attack. fussing with lighting is what put me into stage 2, where i’ll start imagining scenarios where i’ll be confronted with the thing that’s going to ‘get me.’
• gathered all knives and scissors and placed them under pillow (however, this means if whatever has come to ‘get me’ hasn’t brought a weapon, which it would’ve, i feel, it’d have to find even scarier and probably more painful blunt objects in the house to kill me with. anything in here could kill me). i have sharp things ready though, because i think i’d be better at stabbing than clobbering or [who knows].
• stowed car keys and phone under other pillow.
• in stage 2 i have locked the bedroom door before, but. i don’t know. undecided on this one tonight. i want cats to be able to roam freely around apartment, maybe sleep near me.
STAGE 3: WAIT IT OUT
• you just wait it out. that’s all you do. either you’re awake all night or you beat it.
getting sleepy. alvie is acting especially jumpy, pacing and chirping. does not bode well. told myself i’d be asleep before it was light outside and now it’s looking bluer out there goddamnit. actually though, this is good, because now i have more visibility out my window. when it was darker earlier ‘knew’ the face from ‘suspiria’ was on the other side of the curtains. goosebumps looking for this picture, like, entire google image search, even now, thinking about looking at it.
fear seems manageable tonight. it helped to type this, like now i’m processing faster because i moved stuff to my external hard drive. drinking coconut water. shirley is here. about to sleep, sun is up, okay. ‘you got this.’ B.D.O. tomorrow.
2:55PM: had set alarm for 1PM. not boding well. B.D.O. got a mean case of the not-boding-wells. drinking yesterday’s dunkin donuts coffee. so far i woke, which i guess is more than what i was expecting i’d do today, last night, so…no that’s setting the bar low.
3:28PM: finally answered phone to tell telemarketers to stop calling. s
o. that was not on the list of things i want to accomplish today but it should’ve been. going to shower and make smoothie now. *NOTIFICATION: THIS WILL BE THE LAST TIME I SAY ‘GOING TO DO —’ BECAUSE BOY DOES THAT EVER NOT MAKE ME NOT WANT TO DO THINGS.
4:43PM: woman is yelling ‘fuck you you dumbass bitch, you stupid ass ho’ out window. man is yelling something back. would’ve been cool if i’d had an expensive microphone when we moved in, so i could’ve been keeping an audio scrapbook of the sounds of 4th and jefferson. last night around 3:30AM a rooster was crowing. it kept going until i went to my bedroom a little before 6AM. imagine: a rooster, somewhere out there in the expansive wasteland of a dark philadelphia morning. philly sucks man.
kale smoothie: made and drank that shit. -1 shitter from that list.
thought, while scooping out cantaloupe seeds ‘…with the strength to open melons with a butter knife, the agility of a blender on ice, and the brute force of a thousand butter sticks, megan [discontinued thought].’ heard blender about to fall and ran from toilet to avert a famed ‘tao lin smoothie disaster of instagram proportions’ (didn’t even wipe) (serious about averting that disaster) (disaster averted).
called attorney. he’s calling tomorrow with new settlement offer. after that mom and i could go to court, to get more money. the guy who hit us doesn’t have to pay, it’s all corporations, so. i don’t know. i don’t really care. court seems hard.
assembled packages to mail. not going to make it to post office before they close. will need to fed-ex everything. fuck it, that’s good. the post office would’ve. stalled. because i need fed-ex for the real estate thing anyway.
i put stickers on two envelopes ‘for good luck,’ rubbed them in ‘special secret pattern,’ thinking of the part in ‘me and you and everyone we know’ where she touches the neon dots on her steering wheel.
horn honked twice and a man said ‘hey. i love you. mucho. peace’ as car drove away.
have responded to more emails per capita than like, ever, i think. four responses so far without spending 15-90 minutes on them. proud of me. baby’s fucking day out.
answered another telemarketer. taking this shit out.
baby’s fucking. gonna take this shower. take this shower out. fucking. i want a cigarette first. thought ‘no, you can smoke when you’re dead.’
no i need the small reward of smoking right now.
so happy i didn’t add ‘quit smoking’ my punishment if i don’t get shit done today. i was about to do that. it would be hard to live in a world with a nasty photo of my ass on the internet, not enough money to start being a person again, and without the small reward of smoking.
