The Randomist

I’m coming out. That deafening roar you just heard was 95% of everyone I’ve ever known shouting “I KNEW it!” Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not coming out of THAT closet. My sexual preferences lie where they always have, mostly in myself. I’m coming out of what might be a scarier closet. There are certainly more skeletons in this one. It’s a door that everyone wishes would stay firmly shut, but I’m going to open it, again. I want to stand up today and introduce myself to you. I want you to meet the real Heather Heartless. Not just the bitchy angry one, not just the one that makes you laugh, but the one I keep hidden away. My name is Heather and I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder… among other things. On March 14, 2009, I looked out the window of the gas station where I was working and saw two men approaching on foot from the road. My very first thought, honest to God, is “They’re going to rob me.” And they did. Violently. No one asked for money. No one said “This ...

Yes, I'm still on the kick about inanimate objects that scare me shitless .  When I finished the original post, I realized that I had made a huge mistake.  I left out the one that scared me the most. Dolls.  Mostly of the porcelain variety. You have to understand a few things about me.  I don't scare easily.  I'm the chick everyone wants to take to a haunted attraction or horror movie because I laugh my way through them... and also because I can point out exactly where, when, and what is going to pop out at you.  The success rate is roughly 95%.  Paranormal Activity 2 fucked up my perfect record.  Only because I thought it was safe to look directly at the screen when it was day time to them and because those cabinets were really fucking loud when they opened. I was that weird kid that was reading 800 page Stephen King novels in elementary school.  I watched Pet Semetary and IT when I was a toddler and never had an issue, which is...

A moment ago I thought to myself, “If my ovaries had nuts, I’d kick them in them.” And then I realized that was too many thems. Also, that my ovaries kind of ARE my nuts. And that I say also too much. They’re not being terribly evil at the moment, but that “special time” isn’t so special. It’s irritating and it pisses me off. Like that saying goes, you shouldn’t trust anything that bleeds for seven days and doesn’t die. Therefore, I no longer trust my vagina. I thought I would share a few of my thoughts on menstruation with you. 1.) I think it’s a horrible joke on me that my gynecologist is attractive. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a wonderful doctor, but I don’t think his hotness is a bonus for me. Initially, this had me wanting to clamp my legs shut and waddle out the door. Gynecologist visits are in direct violation of my “Never naked with the lights on” rule and having an attractive man see me naked under fluorescents was almost more than I could take. He makes delightfully...