sarc.

I am a 30 year old mother with 4 successful, yet equally disgusting vaginal births to my credentials, and despite giving birth in my teens I neglected to sell my baby, I mean story, to MTV. I use to have all 10 episodes of Friends on DVD but I just sold them in a relatively successful eBay auction and offered free shipping which tells you a lot about my personal belief system. I look really good photoshopped and in the dark and my kids say my best quality is when I am not around. I volunteer my spare time on Social Media Studies where I study the reactions of what people think of all the dumb things I have to say. I am not a vegan but I am friends with a girl who has a tomato plant and I always slow down so my kids can say "LOOK! A COW!" when we drive past a large open field. I enjoy long walks from my couch to the fridge, spending time pretending I don't have a family and reading the classics. The classics is what I call Teen Vogue. I am almost graduated from online college and when I finish I would like to forget that I owe $15,000 in student loans and head down that weird patch of dead grass behind the mall and wait to apply for a job with the traveling carnival. I am a photographer in my spare time, which just means I bought an expensive SLR camera once and forced my friends to pose while I took their pictures, and I've also traveled the world. (it's just America). If I win I am going to do whatever I can to put hurricane machines in the cafeteria, and have Taco Bell catered in at lunch time.

I’m sorry that a dingo ate your baby.

  • I’ve read a lot of self help books in my life, (cosmo magazines) and the one thing I’ve never managed to take away and actually apply to my life was that nothing I can do or say is going to change someone’s opinion of me if they don’t want to see me for who I am. I’m done saying sorry for everyone’s faults towards me. I read my texts from the past week and realized how many times I said the words I’m sorry when I haven’t done anything wrong. From here on out I will apologize for nothing besides the dingo eating your baby and farting at my gynecology appointments. That’s it. You don’t like it, I’m sorry, no I’m not fuck you in the nose with a cucumber. 
  • I used to have a No Fear shirt that said Second place is just first loser. I don’t know what I thought that meant, but besides the sad fact I wore a No Fear shirt, it’s not true. Maybe in the playoffs, but not in life. Just because someone got what I wanted first doesn’t mean I still can’t get it. I might be 85 before it happens, but 85 is still an age in life and it’s still something I can accomplish. Again with the not saying sorry. 
  • So much of my life is put on display here for people and I appreciate that for the most part people take something good away from this. I try to be positive as much as I can unless I’m taking a pregnancy test, and I hope that the few times I let things get to me that it’s not enough to change the mostly good feelings I give to you. If I haven’t given you any good feelings lately, meet me behind the Pic-N-Sav at 8:30. Bring $1.
  • Speaking of $1 I hope the day never comes that finding money I didn’t know I had doesn’t thrill the shit out of  me. Literally. I had to change my pants. I love finding money. It’s the little things that make life worth living. Like $1 bills in my pocket and all the penises I’ve ever let touch my flower. (that’s not a special name for my vagina I actually have a flower specifically for dudes to put their penises on. Did this just get weird?
  • You guys all need to come over and watch Charity do Dance Central I whip my hair back and forth the last time I saw someone move like that it was a party in high school and a girl thought she had a bee in her weave. Hilarious. 
  • Is it a new thing to be verified on Twitter even if you wouldn’t even be recognized at your local Blockbuster? It must be. I can’t wait until I don’t ever get verified because I’m just a girl with internet access and stupid shit to say to the masses from my iPhone. Maybe I can pay Taco Bell to retweet me. I pretty much “retweet” their food 30 minutes after I eat it.  
  • The closest I’ve ever come to taking a Zumba class is trying to remove my bra when my shirt is too tight in the same room my kids are in so they can’t see what feeding them did to make me have such disappointing and sad boobies. 

I have to go to the Library. I need to do some research on a piece I am supposed to write for *GQ this week on *online dating.

*my blog

*eating Ramen noodles over the trash can in my yoga pants while I search for the .50 rebate check I got from Walgreens yesterday. 

TOOTALOO 

  1. roothakers posted this