A new apparatus has made an appearance in our ballet studio, unannounced. What is it, you ask? Does it come with an instruction manual?

Nonsense! Who needs that? After studying it over hours of ballet torture, its presence has become self-explanatory to me. But I’ll enlighten, if it hasn’t spoken to you as of yet.

I present: THE FRUSTRATION MACHINE!

Falling out of that pirouette? Can’t seem to hold your balance? Missing every combination? Don’t be so perturbed! Simply use the frustration machine to reset your emotions to the proper level of focus. Grab the handles, line your forehead up with the rolled towel, and bash your head against it repeatedly until all anger over failed ballet has been exorcized.

Is that not cutting it? Still driven insane by your inability to perform even the simplest of steps? Teacher getting you down, and it seems like there’s just no escape? Allow us to put you out of your misery! Upgrade to: THE BEHEADREST!

Just grab the handles, scooch your head up a bit so that your neck rests comfortably on the padding, then have your closest friend or class-mate do the honors of beheading you! (Axe sold separately.)

Clearly my mind wanders during class…

Some boys are rather stupid about the whole vegetarian deal.

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Who the hell doesn’t eat sweet potatoes or plums? I mean regardless of whether I, with my wild vegetarian ways, am trying to force-feed you everything I eat, I hardly think those two items are so outrageous. Once I come at you with seaweed and tempeh- sure, run for the hills. But if you shy at the thought of a sweet potato and a plum, I think there are larger issues afoot, and they aren’t to do with my eating habits.

I get myself into the worst situations.

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You know what happened after that? S texted L back that he hadn’t even seen me. Yes- I would have gotten away with this accidental stalking, if I hadn’t made L tell S about it. This seemed like a good point to just go ahead and exile myself from life. But instead I carried on and for some reason we are all still friends. Actually upon reflection, I must have some very strong redeeming qualities if my friends put up with all this insanity and still like having me around. Anyway, the lesson learned from this episode of ali ridiculous embarrassment- wear shoes and bring the dog.

I’m looking into becoming a professional M&M eater. I’ve heard it can be very lucrative.

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We are all hilarious and crazy. Put together we only get more so. For clarification, there is my mom and dad; brother, Joe; and sister, Julie.

This is what happens when we are all stuck in a car together:

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This is what happens when we all go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant together:

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This is a card my Dad gave to my sister to indicate they’d be helping her buy a car for Christmas. Note that in the illustration they are both bare-ass naked. With the exception of what appears to be some thigh-high stockings and high heels on my mom, and a belt on my dad. Hilarious and disturbing and thoroughly unprovoked.

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My little cousins also show some promise.

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I’m gonna blame this on serial-killer Ken’s troubled adolescence.  He was born without junk, after all. That’s gotta be very emotionally scarring.

But seriously, I love my family so much!

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