May I Just Say (An Eloquent Editorial)

I go to a support group for people living with bipolar and depression (often co-occuring with other mental health challenges) and have been noticing a trend lately. I’ve been noticing this trend in my personal life as well, and thought I’d just address it because it’s ridiculous.

Please do not tell people with mental disorders how to treat said disorder.

Honestly…just mind your own damn business. Unless you’re my doctor, you have absolutely no right or authority to tell me how to take care of myself.  I’m specifically addressing people who think it’s their right to tell others to stay off medication.

I have Bipolar II. I take medications to stabilize my severe mood swings, which at times have led me into the darkest places imaginable. I really, truly don’t think I would be alive right now if not for my medication. I see a therapist, and she’s also life-saving. My support group is absolutely essential to maintaining stability. These three things, combined with a good diet and not living a sedentary lifestyle, are the reason I’m happy to say I’m very stable at this current moment.

What people don’t understand about me, what they don’t see when I’m alone and at my worst, is that I work my fucking ass off to stay sane. It’s offensive that people think they are allowed to tell me how to handle my life. It’s offensive that one of my support group peers was told by a naturopathic doctor to discontinue his lithium and antipsychotics. I understand having differing points of view, and I understand that when someone finds something that works for them they want to share it. I also understand if you’re suffering with the same mental illness and sharing about your own experience. But if you know nothing about the mental illness you’re trying to treat without the proper education, you just don’t get to casually suggest that people go off of their life-saving medication.

I don’t want to hear it. My life has been hell for the entirety of 2017. I’ve also struggled through some extremely dark periods throughout my adult life before my diagnosis. I’ve had hypomanic and depressive episodes while unmedicated, and I remember them and shiver. Being inside my mind during those episodes is absolutely fucking terrifying. I honestly find it disgusting and negligent that anyone would try to tell me to medicate with herbs or non-FDA-approved supplements or berries or kale or marijuana or skydiving or dolphin therapy or space exploration.

I’m skeptical of medication. Truly, I am. I’ve told doctors I will not take certain drugs because of their potential side effects and lack of research on them. But the side effects of being inside my brain are sometimes much more dangerous than the ones inside of a pill. I’ve researched. I’ve weighed the costs and benefits. I’m an adult who has made an adult decision to save my own life.

So stay the fuck out of it, ya know?


Can We Discuss Disney Princesses Though

I was on the phone with my dad yesterday crying (surprise) over my lack of romantic luck recently. He gave me some really wonderful advice, the most hilarious of which came when he said, “The worst thing Disney ever did for society was write those stupid happy endings.” Or something to that effect — I tend to describe things a little more sassily than he does.

Anyway, it got me thinking: according to Disney, everything works out in the end if you’re a quiet woman in a patriarchal society. I am not quiet, and I’m actively attempting to smash the patriarchy at every turn, so I’m a little concerned about what this means for my love life. Also, I’m not exactly straight so I just wanna know what Disney would recommend if I’m trying to woo a mermaid, but I doubt I’ll be getting any answers on that front any time soon.

I’ve never wanted to be a princess, but I’m realizing that in a Disney world, I would have to be in order to fall in love, so uh…here we go. Now, there are a few (million) necessary adjustments I must make to my life in order to attain princess perfection:

  1. Become tiny. Which might be difficult since I’m 6′ and not exactly slender. Maybe I can cut my legs off at the knees, which would successfully reduce my weight and height in one fell swoop. It would also allow me to become helpless. Maybe my prince would be down to push me around in a wheelchair for the rest of eternity (which is obviously also how long our love would last).
  2. Replace my sweet mother with some horrible woman who wants to lock me in a tower or make me mop her floors and take care of her fat, evil cat. I could probably start looking for that type of woman at the local Chicos clothing store. The more chunky jewelry, the better, I’d assume.
  3. Become straight. And probably develop a dwarf and/or squirrel fetish.
  4. Don’t leave the house unless I look immaculate (note to self: find fairy godstylist). Only do housework if forced to. Allow mice to take up residence in my apartment.
  5. Immediately unlearn every self defense skill I’ve ever been taught. Walk into forests alone at night. Take food from strangers. Make deals with weird octopi in ocean caves. Make out with frogs even though they probably have weird swamp bacteria all over their bodies. Totally wander into random cabins in the woods without worrying about some racist hillbilly coming in and axe murdering me while I’m fast asleep.
  6. Let teacups teach me about love. Employ candlesticks for both light and therapeutic advice. Become easily impressed by silverware. Become way too obsessed with my hair for anyone’s good (this one might not be too tricky for me).
  7. Stop talking. This might be hard, as I don’t think I’ve spent more than 3 hours in silence at any given time. I even talk in my sleep, for goodness sake.
  8. Assume kissing men will always be magical and totally save my life. Because obviously everyone knows how to kiss me the way I’d like. None of them will shove their tongues down my throat (princes don’t actually possess tongues, anyway) or drool on me (and yes, before you ask, that has happened to me and I really don’t want to talk about it). Let random twerps kiss me just in case it helps my situation in life.

I think that’s it.

And yes, I’m super serious about the squirrel fetish.

I Gots Opinions

Blogging three times this week may be breaking my record for the year. I miss you guys, and I really hope you missed me, because without you I’m just typing to myself while shivering because this apartment is so damn cold…and that’s just depressing. So hi! I love you all, and I’m really trying to get back to my blog-y self!

I realized recently that in the past two years, this blog really has changed. It started out as a humor blog, but as I grew up I faced a lot of real challenges: depression, anxiety, confusion about my sexual orientation, traveling abroad and getting e. coli, just being in college, dropping out of a sorority… It felt hard to be funny, you know? I’d sit down to blog and I’d either:

A) Have no clue what to say because my brain was so exhausted from my stats class that all I wanted to do was eat pie and sleep. Or…

B) Totally know what I wanted to write about but feel restricted. I think I feel like I’m not allowed to write about certain things because my parents and family read this, or because friends of mine subscribe and I wouldn’t want to offend anyone by what I say. Of course, there’s always the “I need a job someday so I probably shouldn’t swear too much or talk about any suspicious activities” but then I remember that I very rarely act suspicious and to my knowledge have not committed a crime (unless you count being too damn sexy). I’m an adult. I’m 22 years old, and even though I don’t feel 22 (Taylor Swift lied), I’m at least qualified to talk about things in a very direct and sassy way.

I gots opinions, y’all. They’re hilarious and totally worth your time, so here it goes:

1. Should you choose to be a dude and let your chain hang low (whatever the hell that means), maybe pull up your damn pants. If I have to see one more guy waddling around with a belt around his thighs with his little booty cheeks sticking out for all the world to see, I will scream. I will scream at your butt, sir.

2. Maybe we could all just stop driving trucks, because unless you need that truck to haul logs or move hogs or to dig out bogs, I would really appreciate you not getting 8 mpg just for the hell of it. Save your money and go on vacation or something. On a similar note…

3. Could we all put this “I’m country” act to bed? I grew up on eight acres of field with a little orchard. My neighbors lived far away from me. I went to school in a farm town. Technically, of all of us, I’m country. (Except dear God I’m not.) You grew up in downtown Seattle and dirt is a foreign concept to you. Have you ever seen a cow? Have you been to the county fair? So I know we live in a town near some wheat fields, but maybe stop talking with a totally unexplained southern accent, and take off your damn Carhartt.

4. Enough with Tinder. You aren’t going to find the love of your life on that stupid dating app, and to be honest you probably won’t even find someone to make out with tonight. I used it once, and ended up getting stood up like 3 different times and going on a few dates with a complete jackass. If you want to date someone, just walk up to someone in class or at the bar or in the freaking grocery store. If you want to hook up, walk up to someone in class or at the bar or in the freaking grocery store. You’re only ever going to find a bunch of weirdos who send you unsolicited pictures of their penises without warning, and nobody wants to deal with that.

5. If you insist on using dating apps, utilize spellcheck. Your phone has autocorrect for a reason, and that reason is: you can’t spell worth a damn. “Hay girl your hott” literally makes me want to vomit, especially if you’re a 26 year old elementary school teacher. Also, if you’re a 26 year old, stop looking for random college girls and start making friends your own age. It’s like when people would graduate from high school and come visit the sophomores at lunch. Everyone thought it was cool until they realized that those high school graduates were reeeeally lame.

6. Speaking of dick pics…what the hell. I still don’t get it. I’ve tried so hard to understand the motivation behind sending them, but I just cannot understand. There’s nothing inherently wrong with male genitalia, but I can assure you that it is much more pleasant when it is seen in person. When you want to see it. When it’s attached to a guy you like. Who is being nice to you. And who doesn’t just whip it out willy-nilly (get it, willy? HA) without any warning.
Basically, think of it this way. I have no idea what to do with a picture of your penis except yell, “OH DEAR GOD” and immediately show it to all my friends who also think it’s icky. You just sexually assaulted me via telephone, and my brain just exploded because why did you do that I can’t figure out why you did that and then it takes every ounce of my self-restraint to not throw my phone across the room in horror.
Most recipients of dick pics don’t sit there staring at the picture for hours pining for it. Most recipients feel violated and dirty and just want you to stop virtually rubbing your genitalia all over their phone.


коты, kočka, kaķis, חתול, and кот

Here are some recent Google searches that brought people to my blog:

коты, kočka, kaķis, חתול, and кот – Those were all separate searches, which is disconcerting since I don’t know what any of those words mean and therefore don’t understand how Google directed them here. But uhhh…mazel tov?

we love each other like we love food – That’s a lot of love. Because if you’re anything like me, you love food A LOT. Sometimes I think maybe I don’t have enough love left over to love anyone, since I love food so much. It fills up my love quota every day.

i really like you – Oh, thank you! I really like you too, even though I don’t know you at all. But I probably like you. Unless you’re a creep, in which case you should leave me alone, please.

etequate of life – Part of the etiquette of life is proper spelling. So you failed. Sorry.

dancing like your having sex – I’m sorry, but first of all, you used the wrong you’re. It’s dancing like YOU’RE having sex. Second, I think I specifically told you not to do that. It’s icky. What would Jesus say? You know, if he weren’t dead and everything.

my wife beats me – This has happened before. I’m seriously worried about the well-being of my readers. Seek help, sir, as domestic abuse is a serious issue!

how to dress like a stud muffin for Halloween – I don’t think I can help you there. Maybe just go naked?

what are people who hang around bikers who don’t have bikes – Not bikers. They’re called not bikers. And they’re also losers because biking is awesome and they should join in on the rollicking fun times. Unless you mean bikers as in motorcyclists, in which case whatever cuz I don’t like motorcycles.

hello my name is gabby – Hi Gabby. I’m Cappy. How are you? Oh, and also, why would you introduce yourself to Google?

julian casablancas cool? – That is NOT a question. He is. He IS. Mmm.

cat – I love cats. I LOVE CATS!

things you could say to creep the love of your life out – Basically, just quote any sentence from this blog. You’re welcome.

i’m so smooth with the girls – Oh, are you now, Tarim? I’m assuming you’re called that or some other Middle Eastern name, but I really don’t know, and now I feel like maybe I’m being racist. OH NO! I’m sorry :(

writers block pregnancy – At the rate I’m going, I will never be pregnant, so I can’t help you there.

kiss without touching – Ehhh, I don’t think you can do that. Unless it’s like, this crazy existential touching and you’re a zen buddhist or something, in which case GOOD ON YOU, cuz that’s pretty awesome. Congratulations.

what kind of school do you need for rocket scientist – A whole bunch. If you need to ask, you’re probably not cut out for it. Also, it’s “schooling,” not “school.” Man, I sound uptight today. Grammar Nazi alert.

i like a girl who isn’t lesbian but im also a girl – I’m sorry. That’s probably super hard. You should’ve sent this in to my agony aunt post or something! Way to pay attention, jeeeez. You should probably move on, cuz I don’t know if this chick’s gonna be into you if she’s straight.

who writes the borovkoff blog? – That is a question I do not have the answer to. I’m sorry. But probably a Russian man…

No Touching!

Some of the things people do when they’re in relationships amaze me. Like, how exactly does the kissing-photograph go down? “Hey, I really like you, so we should take a photo together while we kiss.” No. I’m sorry, but that’s really annoying. And if you do that, then…well, stop. It might be less obnoxious if you didn’t upload it to Facebook immediately, but then it’d just be sitting around in your house and that’s pretty annoying too.
So here’s what couples shouldn’t do in public.
1. Give each other massages.
Um. What? Why? Why are you touching her like that while I’m at a party trying to eat my bag of Doritos in peace? I want to eat the WHOLE BAG, and if you make me vomit it up….
2. Nibble.
Just don’t. Wait until later. Find a supply closet for all I care, just DON’T NIBBLE EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW.
3. Take photos together constantly.
I will break your camera. Group shots are fun. Even the really obnoxious “taking a photo of yourself and a couple people by extending your arm in front of you like a fool” is okay every once in a while. But please, don’t do it constantly. I don’t want to be interrupted mid-sentence by you smooching your boyfriend while clicking away at your camera. Like I said, I’ll break the dang thing.
4. Talk as if you’re one entity.
You probably spend a lot of time together, and that’s great. But once you start to be defined by a relationship and ONLY talk about the things you do together, we have a problem.
5. Make really disgusting references to your sex life.
One word: Unnecessary!

I hope I’ve taught you well. You’re welcome, because I basically just prevented you from being punched in the face someday.

Don’t You Guys Read Romance Novels?

I guest posted this at a few days ago and thought I’d put the full post on my own blog:

I think we have a problem. Nobody knows how to kiss properly. I’m lookin’ at you, boys. Didn’t you ever read a romance novel? Oh, well me neither. Girls want to be kissed, not killed!

Here’s the deal: when you kiss a girl, you should refrain from shocking her in any way. Because with kissing, a shock is not a good thing. Ever. And agression is only attractive after multiple dates and multiple kisses, but definitely not at first. Please:

1. Don’t gag her.
This includes strangulation (so don’t wrap your hands around her neck and squeeze), but mainly focuses on tongue-work. Don’t you dare insert your tongue so far into her mouth that she gags, because it could be disastrous in so many ways. There’s this thing called a gag reflex, and sometimes it makes people throw up. Don’t trigger the gag reflex.
I mean, what do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know anything? Kissing can be really gross if you don’t do it properly. Does it really seem like a good idea to lick her tonsils? Let me answer that for you: it isn’t a good idea to lick her tonsils. Maybe you should write that down 100 times, just to make sure you remember.

2. Don’t be a vacuum.
Leave the intense sucking to Mr. Hoover, please. If you can hear slurping, you’ve gone too far. We all know the term “swapping spit,” but removing all spit from her mouth is just superfluous. I know you want her, but you don’t want her spit. That is just gross. This chick should not have to drink seven glasses of water afterward to regain moistness of the mouth.

3. Don’t do darty-tongue.
You are a human, not a lizard. I think I have to get scientific(ish) here: your mouth’s temperature is different from her mouth’s temperature. It is weird when an object that is colder/warmer than her mouth (and is also moist) darts into her mouth and then darts back out. I mean, really, did you not pay attention when I said not to shock her? That, my friend, is what we call shocking.

 4. No mashing.
I know that in all romantic movies, right as they kiss, the guy secures the girl’s head with both hands, leans in, and presses. But her head won’t fall off, so there’s no need to secure it, really. A little face stroking might be nice, sure, but not a two-hand lock. And pressing? No. You have a nose and she has a nose, so there’s really no safe way to press. It needs to be nice and gentle so that you don’t knock together and get a nose-bleed, because those aren’t romantic either. Plus, how do you expect to kiss for more than three seconds without getting a lip cramp if you’re smashing your faces together? Let’s be logical.

5. And finally, don’t drool.
You might think this goes against rule #2. It doesn’t.
Before you kiss her, make sure you’ve swallowed your mouthful of spit. Even if you’re kissing with a closed mouth, we don’t want a bit of dribble escaping your lips and getting on her face, because it’s a surefire way to get her to vomit. On your shoes.
Basically you want to suck your own spit in, but not hers.

I Will Give You Advice

Doesn’t mean you should take it…

This was me.

My apologies for not blogging more lately and for not answering these questions faster. This past week, I slept with a pair of nylons tied around my head. Not because I wanted to strangle myself, but because my jaw hurt and this was the only way to close my jaw and make it feel better. Except it didn’t make it feel better, it just made me feel like Marley’s Ghost. I don’t want to talk about it.

I got a couple questions sent in recently:

I like this man. Well boy (we are in 10th grade)
But he likes my best friend
She is leading him on and only sorta likes him but he is falling for her
She always tells me how she isnt sure
And he always tells me how sure he is
what can I do? i want to protect him but I don’t want to be selfish
he is really good looking
– Alexi

Even I, with my amazing wit and wisdom, am totally not sure what you should do. I will say that wanting to protect him is very unselfish, so don’t worry about that part.
As for the other stuff, be smooth. When he mentions her, drop hints that she doesn’t like him back the same way, but be careful telling him outright; she’s your friend and friends always come before boys you like. Don’t ask me why, it’s just some sick girl code we made up back in the middle ages when all men smelled like raw meat.
Anyway, this girl sounds like she’s your friend and it could look underhanded if you go behind her back to tell him. I’d suggest you talk to her first, telling her how you feel about him. She’d probably understand, and if she’s how I think she is, she’ll move on to another guy soon. Either way, that’s the only way you can clear the air and make yourself feel better.


I think I’m developing feelings for someone really important to me. There is a ridiculous sense of deja vu. Am I an effing idiot? Should I just flow with the spiral or jam on the brakes and do a U-turn?

Ah yes, I know that feeling all too well. Here’s the deal. Every time I’ve “fallen” for a good friend, I end up realizing about 3 weeks later that I like the sense of love and security I feel around him, but not the guy himself. So think about that being a possibility.
Even if  not, don’t do it. I’m usually all “go get him, you saucy minx,” but I think going for a friend could mess you up (and your friendship), especially since you later told me that this was someone you were interested in a while ago. Refrain, Ruby. Find another babe and ask me what to do. You know the answer will be “hellz yeah.”

I Re-Love You.

Dear Cappy,
You are so amazing and wise. I love you. You make me jump for joy in public areas, you make my hair more bouncy, and you make my nose tickle in the best way possible.
A Reader.

I made that up. But really:

Dear Cappy,
I have been recently broken up with and I am sad. Should I go back to loving someone I used to love before all this happened?

Hopefully she won’t mind that I kind of paraphrased.

Dearest R.W.
In a word, no. In six words, no no no, bad sex kitten. You have about sixty-five million emotional ties to this person (probably…I don’t really know), and each of those ties is a good reason to not go back to loving him. You’ve probably forgotten all the reasons he sucks by now, so you only remember good things (like that he smells good or how your tummy got all fuzzy when he spoke). But somewhere in your subconscious, he’s loud and obnoxious, doesn’t treat you well enough, is married, something, ANYTHING…
If he’s not pursuing you, you’ll torture yourself over him until your eyeballs pop out, since we all know that we women-types like to analyze everything to death. And if he IS pursuing you, I say you should smack him upside the head, ask him what the hell he’s playing at, and move on. Don’t get rejected twice. It sucks.