And while we're at it, let's talk about my ass
I’m finding that my threshold for bullshit is wearing a little thin. Blah blah blah, bitch, blah blah blah, The end.
Moving on, because it’s never about them, it’s about me.
I’ve been nursing a cup of tea for about an hour. At first it was way too hot and then it became just right and now I’m gulping it. It’s not working. I’m fucking tired because Amy and I had an enlightening 30 minute conversation last night. And I knew I wouldn’t go to the gym this morning, and guess what? I didn’t. So now I’ve imposed a moratorium on burritos. Though having just proclaimed that when I am rich, I will have my own Mexican chefs to build custom burritos in my Bethesda, MD home, I doubt that this will last. Pam asked what was behind my tortilla craziness. That’s right, my behind is what’s behind it and even in the immortal words of Kanye, I do want a tight ass. So there.
Oh and you wonder what bloggers discuss for 30 minutes, umm blogging of course. And site stats and popularity and this whole business of sharing our lives with the interwebnetosphere. The Queen of Everything and I-her court jester-came to an accord that what we write is what we happen to be feeling right then and there. It has nothing to do with “this is how I truly believe things will be forever, so woe is me” but more like “this motherfucker pissed me off and some Shiraz and incessant rambling is in order.” Last I checked, I was allowed to do such things. I’m on the offensive though. But I figured I’d be prepared for my first piece of hate mail.
And finally, the bad news around the interwebnetosphere has been unsettling. I don’t say “prayers” or “hugs” because some people don’t want to hear that. They don’t want everything is going to be ok, so I’ll pray for you. No. Sometimes it’s good to lament. And to my chagrin, I suffer from a severe case of foot-in-mouth syndrome. By which, I am forced to write emails that resemble the above and pray (I do pray; for little things though, like a vat of peanut butter and all the Coach in the world) that at some point I do make some sense.
Sadly for you, that time is not right now.
P.S. my stupid photo printer is blowing right now
p.p.s if you're stopping by, ummm do you have any chocolate
p.p.p. s. I have to go to the DMV tomorrow. Expect an intriguing post about how much I hate my life, the DMV, and everyone and their fucking brother.
p.p.p.p.s. tonight is CPK night. Thank God!