1. If I decide to be a stripper instead, I’ll be allocated to the daytime shift. Since I have small boobs and a C-section scar, I won’t qualify for primetime. I’ll have to work during the lunch buffet, while business men gorge on all-you-can eat roast beef. Not only will I suffer the humiliation of being a stripper, I’ll have to deal with men who patronize strip clubs during the day.
2. Every time I consider quitting, encouraging words come through from an industry professional. It’s a strange phenomenon.
3. I’ve been at this almost six years without turning a profit. Some folks might see this as a reason to stop, but it just makes me want to dig my heels in. I have to be on the verge of a financial break-through, right? Such a massive time investment requires a few more years anyway.
4. I’m fairly certain I lost a Facebook friend over my Taylor Swift blog post. That’s the most amusing thing that’s happened to me in the last six months. It also means my writing affected someone on a visceral level, even if it was a bullshit blog post.
5. I’m too old to become a ballerina. I think. Maybe I’m not. I should really check into that. If I’m not too old, then I’m out of here.
I so glad the election is finally over so we can go back to being a dignified country. Let’s talk current events!
Once again the media is obsessed with someone getting laid. What I want to know is why Pat Robertson defended General Petraeus but has remained completely mum about Kristen Stewart.
What? Elmo’s not asexual?
Some people want to secede from the union because Obama was reelected. Translation: we didn’t get our way so we’re going to take our toys and play somewhere else. Stomp, stomp, stomp.
Black Friday is on the way. I’d personally rather eat tar-flavored glass than shop on Black Friday, but do what you’ve got to do.
Uganda’s Kill the Gays bill will become a law next month. No joke here. Just something we should all know about. If you support any business that supports the Family Research Council here in the United States, you are supporting this law in Uganda.
To avoid ending on such a solemn note, here’s what’s new around here: my 3-year-old recently announced that she no longer wants to be on the ‘good list’. No more Santa threats for her, as she is actively seeking naughty certification. Shouldn’t be too difficult.
We Gen X’ers like to think that we patented misery. It was our thing for years. I don’t know why. It’s really pretty dumb. Our ‘spokesman’ was a suicidal junkie who never washed his hair. I loved him, too. But really, guys? I think we’ve all moved on. Well, most of us anyway. Some of us are still wallowing. You know who you are. If it’s you, let me tell you why you’re still miserable.
- Your medication isn’t quite right. Try adjusting it. Talk to your doctor or don’t. That part is up to you. Trust me, I’m not one to dole out advice on that one.
- Your dog hates you. He craps on the floor on purpose so you’ll step in it when you’re in a hurry to get to work. Trade him for a moped. You’ll look sporty on your way to work and won’t have shit on your shoes.
- Your mom isn’t that fond of you, either. She prefers your older sister. You’ve always been a pain-in-the-ass. Come on, this isn’t a surprise. You have to let go of the idea that your own mother has to like you.
- Stop peering into that dude’s window. You two went on half a date three years ago. Get over it. You’re obviously afraid to commit so you’ve attached yourself to an idea, but that idea is going to call the cops if he finds you in his rose bushes again.
- TV hasn’t been as great since Pushing Daisies was cancelled. That show freaking rocked. What have the TV gods offered as a replacement? CSI: Fort Worth? No, thank you. Jerks. But it’s not all bad. You just have to know where to look. I’ve got two suggestions for you, my friend: Archer and Workaholics. You’re welcome.
- You’re gay and those closet walls are closing in. Sorry to out you this way, but everybody else already knows. Time to embrace your inner homo, and a nearby homo, and you’ll be happier.
- Stop feeling guilty about drinking alone. I believe a couple of glasses of wine in your own company shows that you are comfortable with yourself. It says ‘I like myself enough to spend time with me and a bottle of Pinot.’ Not ‘I’m a big fat alcoholic.’ Unless, of course, you are an alcoholic, then you should probably consider rehab or one of those twelve-step programs that requires you to apologize to everyone you’ve ever offended. That should keep you busy for the next decade, and you won’t have time to feel sorry for yourself.
Remember: today’s a gift, that’s why it’s called a hangover!