Reasons I'm Going To Hell: Part 1

1) Kristie kind of hates North Dakota and is really sad and writing emo tweets about it and I'M SORT OF HAPPY ABOUT IT, because I want her to quit and come home.

2) My younger brother Greg goes back to college this week, and yeah, I'll miss him because you know...he's fun sometimes, but I'll mostly miss the fact that without him in the house, there's one less person to bring me breakfast in bed.

3) I bribed Emma with three Munchkins this weekend so that she would a) stop trying to pick the flowers in Shop Rite and b) sit down with me. I HAVE A HEEL SPUR, PEOPLE. It hurts to stand.

4) I used to call my brother's beauty pageant ex-girlfriend JonBenet Ramsey behind her back.

5) I tried to Facebook friend the real JonBenet Ramsey's brother because I want to figure out if he did it. He did not accept.

6) I encourage Gen to drink alone because I love her maniacal tweets when she does.

7) In 8th grade, Rachel and I went on a date to the movies with some dudes and I told her that her hair looked good even though she had a huge bump in the back, just so that the boys would like me more than her. It did not work.

8) I once got naked in a hotel room bed so that I wouldn't have to share it with Kristie (SHE IS A MOUTH-BREATHER). She got so mad that she started crying and dramatically dragged a pillow and semen-stained blanket to the floor. I eventually felt bad and let her sleep in the bed.

9) Rachel and I once convinced Gen (when we were on one of our crash diets) that 8 laxatives was a normal dose to take. She hasn't been the same since.

10) One time, Rachel, Gen, Meghan and I went to the city in high school and bought a Playgirl. We then put up pictures all around Kristie's room (especially around her framed Bible quotes) and underneath Greg's bed. My mom found out, obviously, and I blamed it all on Gen.

I wish I could say I was ashamed of these.



I have heard lately from friends and family that it is hard to read my blog. It is painful for them to see me ache--and it is confusing to those who have always known me as funny, loud, silly. The In Real Life Kelly does not always match the Internet Kelly.

My identities have split as I have gotten sicker, and wrote more, and realized I have a voice that is indelibly shaped by disease. In Real Life, I can live in denial. How do you feel? Better, thanks.

But I can no longer do that as I write. I am here to tell the truth. Whether I know it fully or not.  Writing this all out, typing it in 12 point font is the only way I know how to reconcile life and disease.

I do not write for an audience. I write for myself. Even as I pimp myself out (not literally...yet). Even as I advertise myself. In the end, I am still writing for me. I will write for as long as I write. This blog could end tomorrow, or never.

I am me and this is my reality.

For better or for worse.


What I Picture Kristie Doing In North Dakota

I'm totally going to have a half-breed niece or nephew.

And I will sing this to them.



my sleep patterns are erratic and fucked up and i am exhausted constantly.

on monday, i woke up with a sty that grew large overnight and so at lunch, they did an incision and drainage and gave me medicine to prevent infection.

it still hurts. they said it wouldn't.

on sunday, against my better judgement, i went to brooklyn and saw a concert and had just a little bit of fun.

but all i really wanted to do was sleep, so by 9:30 on sunday night, i was passed out. i woke up at midnight though and tossed and turned because my mouth is bad and my nose is bad and it's hard to sleep when you're face down and breathing through both vessels is a bitch.

unless i take more than the prescribed dose of xanax, i don't get to sleep for more than three or four hours. i am constantly exhausted. run-down. a normal sty doesn't turn into an infection overnight and healthy people can have fun but i can't, really. not this summer.

not like i used to.

sometimes i can't work or do anything because all i feel i want is to go back to bed. because i am sprouting fevers and sores and please, don't try to talk to me, it hurts. 

I am bad for business. I am late and not there and I feel like shit about it. About all of it.

the world doesn't stop.

august is filled with bridesmaid duties and bachelorette parties and stuff stuff stuff! visitors from out of town. family.

and the thought of it all both excites me and depresses me. i want to do it all, work and say hi and have a beer and do dinner but this is the summer where i am paralyzed. tethered to my bed.

i can't get up. i want to! but i can't right now.

i just want to sleep.


The One Where Kristie Leaves

it is seven and i am awake.

my nose has been filled with sores and my mouth too.

that is so disgusting, you think.

you are right. it is so disgusting.

it is also undeniably painful and for over a week, i have watched my nose bleed, slept with toilet paper (i should buy kleenex), sneeze and then cry out from the pain of sneezing.

last night, we all gathered to say goodbye to kristie and as the hours moved on, as i got more and more tired, i could not sit there on the porch with them. i had to lay down, upstairs in my childhood bedroom. lay down and shake from pain.

there is a sore on my lip and it’s a crater. it is fat. phat, as i’ve been joking. oh, me and my funny jokes.

mornings are the worst! i remind myself of this now. you will get used to it!

twenty four years of you will get used to it!

today kristie leaves so i will try to sleep a bit before she does and then i will say goodbye and cry because my family is never apart and my nose is burning and my mouth hurts but mostly because i won’t see my baby sister for four months.

four months without kristie. this seems like a short time, but without kristie it will feel like a very long fall.

my mouth will hurt when i form the words goodbye, when i say i love you, when i kiss her on the cheek and bid her farewell.

but my heart? my heart will hurt more.


This all makes sense now

Back in February, my parents informed me that I wasn't executor of their will.


I was shocked! Scared! Fearful that she would sell our parents' beautiful home once they kick it and turn it into a shelter for refugees! Native Americans, LIVING IN MY BEDROOM. Ecuadorian orphans riding the child-size bike my dad's going to buy me! Dogs and cats and abused iguanas, fucking chilling on my balcony.


I was pretty upset, so naturally, I demanded an answer from my father upon hearing the news.

Dad: You know we made Kristie executor of the will, right?
Me: WHAT?! I'm the oldest! (I said, as I stomped my feet.)
Dad: But you're 24 and still write blogs about puking.

At the time, I vehemently denied it.

But I guess my blogs--just like Shakira's hips--don't lie.

This Confounds Me

I am not very inspiring, especially based on last night’s events and this morning’s resulting vomiting. (Jose Cuervo projectile vomited out of my nose. More on this, later.)

For some reason though, photographer Abbie Morrison (she takes really cool pictures in Maine, which I love for its lobster and Obama) featured me as an Inspired guest post (er) on her blog today. (Lauren Farmer was also featured on her site a few months ago.)

Check it out here.