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heavy duty antibiotics

I’d rather have a sinus infection again. why, you may or may not ask? because my stomach is being torn to shreds like a bunch of fruit and shit for a late night infomercial. you see, I’ve always been a rather sickly person, so my rap sheet with antibiotics is about as long as the lord of the rings trilogy. this time around, the nurse practitioner (who I may add looked entirely too shy to ever become a doctor) decided to bump my usual dosage from 500mg to 875mg. twice. a. day.

day one: first dose down, I immediately enter a coma while the medication rages through my body in an effort to shut down the party my sinuses have been having for over a week.

this is a ten day course, mind you. I’m on day 4 and so far the results have not yet become any more promising.

my ears still haven’t quite returned to their desired and optimal pressure.

i find myself frequently asking anyone who dares speak to me “huh?” about fifty times aday.



you know what else sucks? the very real possibility that I met (this is extremely subjective because I haven’t actually met the person in question, not in question you get it keep up) the love of my life…..and he’s backpacking to FREAKING CANADA.

to catch everyone up (is anyone reading this) I’ve had the literal worst taste in men going on about a year now. well, you could say longer than that because I’ve been through several disastrous relationships since 2011. help me.

back to you stacy.

so obviously we’ve had the guy who shaves his nipples and is a complete mamas boy, the armed forces guy who ghosted me after a month, and to top it all off the guy who’s seemingly perfect for a month but refuses to acknowledge your sexual union when in public. also he has shit time management skills and a complete lack of empathy towards the women he fucks over. he’s also bad in bed despite being a literal greek god. something tells me I’m not winning here.


back to backpack man. PCT man is his code name in the group chat (group chat: the textual gathering of 3 or more women who constantly send memes and ask “is this normal”) entered my life one fine day in may. his first reference to a rolls Royce and champagne bottles really turned me off. replace with boxed wine and hellcat, we have a winner. NOT ONLY does this man have the most spiritually arousing and satisfying sense of humour, he thinks I’M funny. ME. also has tattoos and loves dogs. if that doesn’t scream soul mate to you then fuck off you’re dead inside and should seek help immediately. I can say whatever I want to this dude, literally anything, and he doesn’t skip a beat. I don’t have to constantly pad the conversation with “LOL” so he knows I’m not genuinely saying mean things to him (because…….I’m not). how refreshing.

we actually formulated a plan to meet in kennedy meadows a few weeks ago. why kennedy meadows? because I watched that movie with reese witherspoon where she hikes the PCT (if you don’t know what that is I’m done with you. unsubscribe) despite being a drug addict and actual shit person, and that’s one of the checkpoints along the way. me, being someone who loves camping and thought the scenery was top knotch, asked PCT man how far away he was. the timing, ladies and gentlemen, could not have been more perfect. the stars aligned, my eyebrows were finally the same shape and consistency, you get the point.

cut to the meadows (much to my surprise, it looked nothing like the movie) my wingman and I had travelled two and half hours to reach our destination. I should mention about 45 minutes of that travel time was dedicated to scaling the side of a mountain in my fathers shiny new truck. one can only guess the level of anxiety and sheer panic I reached. PCT man was to be expected the following day. my nerves were shot.

we began our day with some morning yoga and decided we would hike the trail while we were there. my hope was that somewhere along the trail, I would run into my hiker. this would explain why we went so far in and exhausted ourselves completely. every man with a large backpack sent my heart into a tizzy, only to be disappointed by some friendly hiker who told me to have a nice day and to also watch out for a rattlesnake about 50 yards away under a bush. because I know how far 50 yards is… as soon as we get back from our arduous adventure, we both pass out in the tent for 3 hours. I awoke in a panic, what if he had come through and couldn’t find me because I was asleep in a tiny tent? our next step in the plan to find him was to simply drive through the campground and try to spot any errant hikers. nothing. as night fell, I began to lose hope as we would be leaving the next morning. side note: we all had ZERO cell reception and had not made any prior notes as to how we would find each other.

he never did come through, so I left a bottle of bubbles at my campsite and a note in the hikers log. as soon as we descended the death mountain, his messages came through. being a type 1 diabetic, he had a slight crisis with his medication and his travels were delayed. even as I drove, we were still within miles of each other but couldn’t make ends meet.

if you’re not crying for my lost love right now.

he only has another 1900 miles to Canada give or take. so maybe sometime in the future i’ll meet this man. and trap his ass.




About she who has no filter

i work 50 hours a week and don't always make time to actually maintain this site. JUDGE ME ASSHOLES. prepare yourself for exemplary wit and a whole lotta talk smackery.

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