It's Raining Really Hard Right Now

Let's Do Some Terrible Similes!

Her voice was as clear as the smooth expanse of unblemished skin on the pouch of fat that distended from her lower back.

The gnats were scattered across my chest like a corpse-ridden happy trail.

My energy level today was like a fork being slowly stabbed into a block of styrofoam shaped like a decapitated Curious George. And every time you pull the fork out the metal tines rub against the styrofoam and make this tiny, "REEEEK" sound.

My butt is like Atlas struggling to hold up the world and look good doing it.

The world is like a big sweaty tube sock stuffed with other tube socks stuffed with melted queso and the more you try to get a hold of what's going on the more cheese squeezes out until you're so covered in gooey melted yellowness of everything that you can't tell where you end and everything else begins.

The first thought I ever expressed out loud is like a blueprint for the rest of my life. "Mommy. Cookie. Now." In order of importance: The Attention of Others. Sugar. And immediate gratification. Although I think now I'm going through this thing where I've completely turned it around. Like, I have little to no social life, I would eat spinach with every meal if I could, and I compulsively put things off for the chance of a bigger reward later. Even if it means missing out on a reward all together. And maybe that's what it means to become an adult, to go from "Mommy. Cookie. Now." to "Leave Me Alone While I Eat A Salad and Dream of Things That Will Never Come to Be!"

Alcohol is like that friend you make when you're a little kid who is a total jerk to you but you don't understand how social interaction works yet. Like, you're hanging out with him and everything is fun and then suddenly he wants to play wrestling and he punches you in the stomach and knocks the wind out of you and you're just lying there on his backyard thinking you might die. But then a couple days later you get bored and go hang out with him again. And when you get older you laugh at how stupid you were.

I think a beautiful part of life is that you can constantly laugh at how stupid you used to be.