Its Summer and Everyone is Manic

I’m probably lying when I say this, but this is the first time in my life where seemingly everyone around me is genuinely fucking nuts. Or maybe this is just the first time that I don’t think it’s cute and move on. I’m not necessarily sure if/what I should do about it or just sit back and watch the sky fall. The latter is definitely the right bet. I should also acknowledge, everyone could very well be normal and I could be the crazy one, but I don’t want to believe that.

Anyway, aside from the mass hysteria spreading through Chicago, I’m blonde again. My nails have been chartreuse for a month, and I don’t plan on changing it anytime soon.

I’ve been working a lot, and the financial return is lackluster. Or it might just feel that way since I’ve been hiding all my money from myself. Probably both.

In the 24 hours since I started this post, the most Fame Hurts things have happened to me.

First, I find an envelope on my windshield after work. “FROM ONE RANGER TO ANOTHER… KEEP IT- POSSUM.” I open the envelope to a very small plastic possum. On the west side of Chicago. So curious, who did that? Like this was supposed to be a Jeep thing, like y’all got your waves and rubber ducks and shit. I didn’t think I would have to participate in the totem culture with my Ford Ranger, but I guess here I am. It feels like something that I should keep considering it seems to have been given in good faith, but also what the fuck am I supposed to do with a half-inch-tall plastic possum?

Second, I’m sitting in bed and get an email notification pop up, it reads, “Would you be willing to send a belly vid?”

There is no fucking way on God’s green earth that BELLY MAN would 1. come back and 2. FIND MY FUCKING EMAIL????

The last time we spoke, I was 21, it was early 2025, and he hit me up to ask me to be his girlfriend as his last dying wish. I asked why he is dying, or moreso what of. Chronic back pain. He then explained to me how he is “Starting to realize how Michael Jackson felt taking so many pain pills.”

God, I just wish that I took screenshots when I had the chance.

Anyway, when I tried to sell him videos of my belly, he got mad and told me that all women ever want is money and he is just trying to enjoy his final moments with a woman he loves before he dies from his back pain. So, I ghosted him. He continued to text me for a couple days, and with no reply, his final message to me was “Miss you my (N word).” With hard R, and blocked me on Instagram. It should go without saying that Belly Man is a white man in his 30s who lives with his mom in Jersey City. 

So for him to FIND MY PERSONAL EMAIL AND MESSAGE ME FOR BELLY VIDEOS A YEAR AND A HALF LATER IS CRAZY.

I guess this means he survived the pills and the backache.

I must have really manifested the return of FAME HURTS on accident. I spent the past 8 months fantasizing about the return of my lost effigy.

The universe has given me the opportunity to fulfill my dream of returning to her, and it would be a waste to not take it.

I lost fame hurts to casting iron and working blue collar jobs without the union, to getting my degree and trying really hard to eradicate so many of the people who fame hurts felt so connected to. It is time to resurect her in her new world. A world where instead of spending 8 hours in a room with 5 gay men, 3 furries, and a bunch of waspy nepo babies, I spend 8 hours with white men who either have or have had dreads at some point in their metal casting career. Its a whole new world for fame hurts and she got a bit lost in the security of it all. I realize now that she never left or got lost she just stopped doing speed and dating twinks. 

It feels like there is something else that I needed to mention, but I can’t remember what it is. Hopefully it comes to me soon, but I’ll probably just post this now because I have the itch.

There is a lot happening in my life and the lives of the people I care about right now. It is a great feeling to see the people I love do what they love and continue to find joy, and I hope that this vibe, no matter how manic, continues.

This is the type of weather and happiness that makes me want to move to The South and pick up a new hobby like fishing.

I should probably ride a horse this summer- seems like the right thing to do, all things considered.

Maybe Bennett and I were onto something last year when we talked about becoming hot tub streamers. There is something too enticing about sitting in a hot tub and shooting the shit. I worry that Alabama Barker might be too good though.

As always, I love Chicago, I love life, and I am not ready for whatever the fuck the next 4 months bring me.