Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Real Life

"Well, it's not actually my goal in life to look 'hot'."

I'll give you one guess as to which job I uttered this sentence at earlier today.

You have two options:

Nannying for two boys ages 5 and 8, or a completely demoralized fine dining restaurant where you're publicly ridiculed for your lack of knowledge on how to operate a bong.

I know what you're thinking. Demoralized restaurant? Okay fine, I'll give you one more guess.

That's right ladies and gents I felt the need to explain this to an 8 year old today. If you were hoping for some sort of glory story, renewed hope in humanity, or a post on the innocence of children please go ahead and hit CTL + Z (or Command + Q for my mac followers) because you will find no such positivity around these here parts for at least a fort night.

I wish I could walk you through the events that led up to this statement, but the steam blowing out my ears is clouding up the room and making it hard to see the computer screen and to find the high amounts of liquor necessary to subdue the horrendous, judgmental and blanketed statements I'm about to make about the state of our society.

Bear with me while I stumble my way through our foggy living room and find some liquor.


Two shots of Bailey's and one terrible shot of some Pumpkin liquor (only half joking, sorry Mom) I am feeling much better. As tempted as I am to try and change the world with a sarcasm riddled, anger filled tangent, I think I'll wait till I'm about 20 posts in before getting up on my high and mighty horse and staying there for good.

Till then, please continue to enjoy the substance-less, humorous (hopefully) happenings of my life and take 10 seconds to pray for 8 year old boys everywhere. Actually scratch that. Pray for my soul to have mercy on them and that I don't release my wrath upon one particular 8 year boy tomorrow. I hear internet privileges are hard to come by in prison.

*I rarely succumb to peer pressure, (Liar liar) but I must dedicate this post to my sister who has plugged this pathetic excuse for a blog multiple times and each time I have failed to deliver any post at all, much less one worthy of her compliments. I hope this run-on filled, angry toned, non-proof read post appeases you. 

Monday, April 9, 2012


Dear Mom and Dad,

Just checking, do you want Grandchildren via your third child? Because it kind of seems like you don't.


Your wonderfully eligible daughter

Back in the day when I was living at home, checking in with my parents was an absolute must if I was out later than say --- 5 pm. It was the law (and rightfully so) to let my parents know where I was at all times. If I mistakenly didn't contact them soon enough I would get the ever scary text: "WHERE ARE YOU!?" I instantly knew I needed to contact them ASAP or fear for my life.

What does this have to do with me being single? I now have an immediate reject button when it comes to being interested in a guy.

It's easy really. If you want to be my FRIEND--shoot my a text. If you want to shoot your chances with me in the foot--send me a text. Perhaps it seems odd, but my parents have instilled a hate-hate relationship with texting. You do it as a necessity. Not as a way to woe me. If you don't like me enough to want to hear my voice, you probably don't like me enough for me to even think about being interested in you. Plain and simple.

Perhaps the letter should read:

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thanks for making it really easy to decide whether or a not a guy is worth practicing my new last name on my note book in my spare time.


Your ever grateful, albeit ever single daughter