Tangents & The Times

When moving in with a Dudefriend, you should always anticipate that there will be Bro Nights and that sometimes, there will be Bro Nights you want nothing to do with for whatever reason. Sometimes it’s just because you’re tired after a long day at work & trying-to-be-funny classes or sometimes it’s just because it’s hard to join the “Mr. Tambourine” sing-a-long because you’re the one twelfth of the party without patchy facial hair & a hippy man voice. It’s okay, ladies. It’s quite alright to choose not to be a part of these fraternizations. Like, I’m probably one of the most bro’d out girls, I don’t know, mayyybeee in the universe, just like estimating but like I’m pretty down to bro most days of the week but sometimes it’s just like DUDE, IMMA GO DO MY THING & PLAY OLD BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE OVER WHATEVER THE HELL YOU PEOPLE ARE DOING. IT’S COOL. I AIN’T MAD’ATCHA. I JUST AM NOT “THERE” TONIGHT.

“There”, of course, being
down to listen to a drunken group rendition
of that like, ONE Kansas song that mattered, once.

On these nights,
it is when it becomes imperative
to have a space to escape to
cause you sure as fuck don’t know how
to play this one game called,
“JAM BAND”.

Cause like before you moved in together,
you always had your place.
And if dudes were just like pushing your PMS buttons,
you could always just go home.
But now you are home & sometimes you’re just like
“I NEED 2 GO DO ME WITH THIS BOTTLE OF CAB.”

My situation here is lucky enough to have a small office off the bedroom in the back of the house. Here I have my desk and it’s relatively quiet (in terms of bros jam banding in or around your home). There’s a small stoop I can open up a door to, take in some night air & look out into the stucco of some Mexican’s housing complex. It’s very relaxing.

PRO TIP:
Always take your alcohol with you into your escape zone.
Bros, even good hearted lovely ones,
will drink your shit if they’ve been drinking for four hours.
Unless you’re the type to like write notes or something,
then, whatever, write your bitchy note
about leaving your $4 bottle of wine OUT OF THIS,
whatever.

Another PRO TIP that I just thought of now that I didn’t actually do because I’m like just now a beginner pro at this living together thing, is that you should always have an escape zone where you can freely take Photo Booth pictures of you in said escape zone without getting caught.

Cause like right now, my escape zone is like a panorama window fest that may or may not be harboring hidden fringe Kumbaya bros in the dark. I don’t know. I don’t know who the fuck is lurking outside my five windows & a french door. I don’t know these things!

I do know
that my ego
will not allow me
to risk being caught
taking pictures of myself
in my escape zone
by my Dudefriend’s drum circle.

Like, okay, it’s cool,
it’s no fucking secret I’m an egomaniac
& obviously take pictures of myself on my computer
to highlight circumstances of my blog entries.
Not trying to dispute that shit.
Definitely not like, trying to say I’m not narcissistic,
I’m just simply saying, it’s A LOT easier to be vain in private.

Cause, like, you feel a little vulnerable making mad faces on camera.

Just sayin’.