Hi, I’m drunk, how are you?
So yeah. That whole no smoking thing? I lasted a week. Then I realized that I’m much crazier without nicotine, and I’m gonna smoke. Smokey smoke smoke, all day long. If my week without cigarettes at least helps me cut down, I’ll consider it a success.
Man, I forgot how hard drunk blogging was. At least I’m getting my money’s worth out of the backspace key…
And also? The greatest thing ever? Cigarettes, a good drink (with vodka), a beautiful night, and *almost* beating my husband at Phase 10. I’ll have to challenge him to a game of Monopoly this weekend so I can regain my dignity.
Oh yeah… the best drunk food ever? I thought it was breakfast at Twin City Cafe, but I was wrong. It is definitely, without a doubt, a sandwich and cheese fries from Cookout. What, you don’t have a Cookout? Come visit, I’ll buy you dinner 🙂
I also had a new story idea. Woot! I need some of those. Sure, I’d love to start working on Finding Home again, but we’ll see. This story though? Could be good times. It’s about a farming family, and it starts in the late 1920s to early 1930s. It’ll go through at least 3 generations, and cover how hard it is to keep the farm alive through tough times as well as all the struggles the family goes through.
That sounds really lame. Don’t worry, I’ll make it interesting.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannddddddd… yeah, that’s all I’ve got. You know, if people would actually answer their phones when I drunk dial, you wouldn’t be submitted…. exposed… assaulted with this shit. Just saying.
Oh yeah. I remembered something else, and then I forgot it again. You’ll have that. Yay vodka!
I’ve been MIA, I know. I’d apologize, but I’m not really sorry. Girls never are!
I’d like to say I’ve been doing wonderful, important things, but that’s not true. I’ve been sitting on my ass most of the time, watching episode after episode of Top Gear on Netflix, and debating on an hourly basis whether or not I should go look for a damn job.
Yeah, I’ve stopped saying just “job.” It is always, inexplicably, preceded by the word “damn.” And, if I’m really annoyed at being broke and knowing that the solution to said brokeness is getting a job, it’s a “fucking job.”
I hate this whole grown-up thing. Who the hell wants to go to work every day? And who in their right mind wants to pay the stupid bills? Gah, I want to sit at home and play Barbies all day. And also, eat candy. Lots and lots of candy.
And now that we’ve established that I’m a 6 year old trapped in a 26 year old’s body…
You weren’t expecting this blog to have sustenance, were you? Pssh, obviously you’re new here.
Anyway. My husband and I planted a vegetable garden! And things are starting to GROW!!! I’m so excited. However, I still have the feeling that all of my vegetables will be poisonous. I don’t even know how, they just will be.
I’ve already noticed a few things that I’ll have to do differently next year. Like, making sure my rows are straight. It kinda looks like I was drunk off my ass when I was planting. I also need to mark what’s in each row. I know where the corn is, but beyond that? We’ll just have to see what pops up.
I also need to work on canning. And figuring out what can be frozen and what can’t be. And investing in a chest freezer so I have room for all of those delicious veggies.
Holy shit, I’m boring myself. Sorry, dudes.
There, now you’re interested again!
I suppose you expect that to followed up with a picture of boobs. Ha, good luck with that one. Just type “boobs” into a Google image search and you’ll be very, very happy in less than 3 seconds.
Well, now that I’ve lost everybody… nice to see ya again, and I’ll try not to be such a stranger!*
*By “not be a stranger,” I mean that I might post like, once a week. Maybe.
I’ve been thinking lately about some amazingly awesome jobs I could have. After all, since I’ve been unemployed for 2 months, I have lots of time to fantasize about what I’d like to be doing.
For instance… I’d love to be on Mythbusters. They get to build cool machines, perform bizarre experiments, and blow shit up for a living! How awesome is that?
Then there are the people who come up with the games for The Price is Right. Sure, no one will ever top Plinko, but I’d love to build the machines for each game and conceptualize new ones.
(My husband and I just got this game for the Wii last week. We’ve won hundreds of thousands of dollars, at least 30 new cars, a dozen spas, and roughly 17 bedroom sets. I expect our prizes to arrive within 4-6 weeks.)
Heh, I got distracted thinking about the car dealership we’re going to open up. Cause really, the only car we actually wanted was the Corvette.
Another job I’d love to have? Editing. For a publishing company. I want to be the one who decides which books get published. Unfortunately, I’d drive a lot of writers to suicide. I might be a little too blunt with my criticism. I’d save the NYT Bestseller list from a lot of crap, though. Just sayin.
There’s another job that overshadows each and every one of these, though.
I want to be a stripper.
I have no idea why. Ok, so I do. I realized this hidden dream while listening to “Another One Bites the Dust.” I don’t know what it is about that song that makes me want to take my clothes off.
Then there’s the tight-bodied aspect of a career as a stripper. Sure, I’d have to drop 30 pounds and tone up before I could pursue my dream, but I’ve seen some really hot strippers with amazingly tight bodies. I mean, how can you get fat when you spend your evenings dancing and your days getting high on meth?
Ok, ok, I won’t be a druggy stripper. I’ll be the one who does it strictly for the enjoyment of driving men crazy with my hot body.
How about the money? I’d work for a high-class strip joint (is that an oxy-moron?) where I’d earn at least $600 per night. Man, that would be awesome. I could work one day a week and have plenty of money to live on. I won’t even mention the sugar daddies I might meet there…
All that attention would be cool too. What girl doesn’t derive at least a little bit of guilty pleasure from having every guy in the room drooling over her?
I think stripper is definitely the most likely job choice for me. Mythbusters and The Price is Right both require me to move to California and be a lot more scientific than I actually am. As for editing– I wouldn’t last long. I’m pretty sure I’d get fired after 3 or 4 writers killed themselves because of me.
I wonder if I’d be eligible for unemployment after that?
So, stripping it is.
I love you. I don’t even know your name, but I would marry you in a heartbeat if you asked me.
I’m sure everyone is surprised to find out I’m in love with you. After all, you come off as a total jackass in the video. It takes a special kind of douchebag to do that without saying a word. With the way you blew off Britney for a phone call (Really? Who does that to Britney Spears?) and the vase that you pitched at a wall, not to mention the photographer you attacked– wait, where was I going with that?
Oh yeah. I really do love you. It’s that moment at the end, where you desperately pull Britney out of the water and look at her with so much remorse. It just proves that no matter how much of of a dick you can be, you still really do love her.
See, I think I can fix you. What does that mean, you ask? It means that the perfect guy, the one you only show for a few seconds, is in there somewhere and I can draw him out. Eventually, after years of me feeling inadequate and you telling me that I should “just go” on a weekly basis, you probably still won’t be that perfect guy all the time. However, you’ll show me glimpses of him often enough to convince me that I am, in fact, fixing you.
Hey, I never said our relationship would be healthy.
Youtube won’t let me post the “Everytime” video here, but here’s the link: Everytime, Britney Spears
Hopefully, this will be the most narcissistic thing I ever write.
I need feedback. Why, you ask? Because I hate feeling like I’m trying to speak to a room full of people while they’re all paying attention to something else. Sure, I may not have the most important thing in the world to say. I’ll still try to make what I’m saying interesting, and, if you’d just give me a chance, you may hear something new or different or funny.
Lately, I’ve felt as though this blog doesn’t matter. It’s no secret that I miss the old days of blogging– when the comments went on for days and people interacted with one another and became friends over blogs. I loved the reactions my blogs invoked, and reacting to the blogs I read. I miss reading all the day-to-day ramblings of people whom I only knew through a computer screen.
I hate that I need justification for writing here. I insist that I write for me and no one else. But when it seems like no one is paying attention, what’s the point?
I’m ready to throw in the towel. I’ve realized that this doesn’t matter. However, knowing that I lurk on quite a few blogs, I’m hoping that you can come up with a reason why I should keep blogging. Right now, I can’t think of any.
I have so many great aspirations for this blog– I’ve even been thinking about what kind of blogs I’d like to write, and considering making a schedule instead of posting so sporadically. But when it feels like I’m being ignored, I just don’t see the point.
I really, really hope this is the most narcissistic thing that ever comes from my fingertips…
I just want to know that I’m not putting myself out there without a purpose.