Blue: You’re the fun out-doorsy type who’s suppressing your homosexuality.
Pink: Time to grow up, princess. Grown women shouldn’t wear tutus. Especially when you’re premenopausal.
Yellow: You are the happiest of your friends. You ooze sunshine like freaking Mary Poppins and everyone hates you for it.
Orange: You have weird boobs. Everyone says so.
Black: Morticia Adams wore it well but you look more like Marilyn Manson without make-up. Yikes! Throw some color on and stop scaring young children.
White: You’re not fooling anyone, slut.
Chartreuse: You like to come off as quirky and unique, but really you just have bad taste.
Red: Way to be classy. Or a slut. It depends on how you wear it. (Your friends think you’re a slut.)
Purple: You’re either really young or really old. Either way you need help wiping.
I’m purging my house and finding lots of treasures. Maybe not lots, but a few. Okay one. I found one treasure.
Years ago (about 20) I was in a writing funk that wouldn’t lift. My bestie since I was 14 (what up, Ashlee??) put together a collection of my work to inspire me. A lot of the prose wouldn’t make sense to you guys because it centers around private jokes. But the writing that follows won’t make sense simply because it doesn’t make sense. Please enjoy the following poems from my youth. xoxo
If I had a dollar,
I’d buy your mama,
And mail her to Egypt.
They make good
REFLECTIONS OF GREATH DEPTH
I like to think of my legs as land and the hairs on them simply as trees. Trees should not be cut down. It really feels good to help out the environment.
Three blind mice.
Where are their eyes?
Oh, here they are,
in my pocket.
I think this answers the question of whether or not I’ve always been a lyrical genius. Thanks for being my muse, Ashlee.