b*tch is the new black

11.11.2010
Dear Aunt Flow,

It's your beloved Tish. You know, the one you love to visit every month like clockwork? I know you're totally obsessed with me and like to stalk my life forever (like Pauly D so eloquently said on Jersey Shore)...I know you like to linger for more days than you should, all the while leaving little gifts like zits and bloated bellies, but it's time I told you the truth. I can't stand your punk ass. You have this uncanny knack for reaching far down deep into my soul and pulling out every negative, insecure piece of me, and it's so not the bee's knees. Goof is better than gore. Funny is better than fits of rage and being bloated makes my jean buttons shoot off so...

Recently I've been stressed and sad over things I can not control. I realize that if you weren't around I wouldn't be in this pickle. I get sad that I'm not allowed to hit people that make me angry. I bawl when I see perfect little Pottery Barn families complete with worry free brows. And of course I also get sad when I pop the lower button off of my jeans. In a world of fashion bloggers, jet setters and cute friends, it's hard to be a girl who can shop maybe once a year and can't afford to dream about trips out of the country.
I'm feeling not so fresh about my career path and whether or not I'll ever be able to afford a life like my parents had at my age. The idea of owning something sounds so far off. Stripping is sounding pretty darn promising. Whoa, who said that?
This is how I see my life happening...


I somehow missed my window of opportunity...

                                                        
And ended up going down the dark path....

I will live in an apartment near China the ex wrestling wench for the rest of my life.

I will be that friend who still writes a blog that only 17 people read a day.

It will take me 27 years to pay off my debt and then I will finally have enough money to visit Florida because my adventurous heart will be too pooped to see Europe...Florida-where the aged go to warm their bones.

My tombstone will read had cool hair. cool hopes. cool dreams...but didn't get that cool window of mutha truckin opportunity. Small font, large tombstone.

Bow chicka wow wow or the lottery...Sad, my little options, but that's my ticket unless I want the depends in Florida existence. (chills!) Cruel, cruel stalkin' Aunt Flow...

3 comments:

  1. Thank you for joining the Ex-Presso / Blog couture giveaway! I hope you'll win! ;)
    xxx

    http://gypsy-diaries.blogspot.com/

    ReplyDelete

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