there are many things in this life that puzzle me. why has a monkey been running our country for the past 3.4-ish years? who invented the bouffant? does a hooker charge her significant other for services others pay for hourly? with the right seasoning, can liver pass as a desirable entree? these are questions that take up the bulk of my thinking space..space that could be used to further my academic success..but alas, my thoughts tend to stray to these unsolvable mysteries. makes me wonder how i haven't gotten kicked out of school yet.
last year, i decided to put some questions like this out there for the world to see in this particular forum. the way i wrote was the way i played these scenarios out in my mind countless times per day..and the way it came out just happened to be humorous enough to garner the attention of anyone with opposable thumbs and access to my AIM profile. i would get ims from friends, enemies and complete strangers (a la "i'm a friend of so-and-so..") within hours of publishing, all saying the same thing: you are one funny chick..when's the next installment? what began as a form of therapy to ease my ever-wandering mind at odd hours of the night when sleepies were playing hard to get (ps..no one likes a tease) turned into some kind of cult. i was the one stirring the kool-aid..and you were all salivating in anticipation, eager to savor the first sip.
after perusing my last few (and far between) entries, i had another one of my many mental fender benders..and for the first time in a long time, i had the answer. the query: "why do people read this?" you can be honest, you don't give a good god damn about what's going on at my school or how i spend my workday. my birthday? my friends? my spastic family? you lean back and yawn..scrolling for something of interest. it was only after i had delved into the archives that it became abundantly clear: y'all get pleasure from my pain. last year, i was one angry little girl, and, despite the significant upturn my life has taken since then, there are still those times that something pisses me off so badly that i just want to beat the motherfucker causing it within an inch of their life. however, such actions are deemed incarcerationable in 48 of the 50 states (assuming, of course, that alaska and hawaii are daring to be different), so i opt for a verbal ego-bashing instead of the unusually high likelihood of sharing a cell with martha stewart. i'm really not down for arts and crafts whilst bubbling with contempt.
fret not, my parched disciples, your thirst will soon be quenched.
..the bitter bitch is BACK,
lex
last year, i decided to put some questions like this out there for the world to see in this particular forum. the way i wrote was the way i played these scenarios out in my mind countless times per day..and the way it came out just happened to be humorous enough to garner the attention of anyone with opposable thumbs and access to my AIM profile. i would get ims from friends, enemies and complete strangers (a la "i'm a friend of so-and-so..") within hours of publishing, all saying the same thing: you are one funny chick..when's the next installment? what began as a form of therapy to ease my ever-wandering mind at odd hours of the night when sleepies were playing hard to get (ps..no one likes a tease) turned into some kind of cult. i was the one stirring the kool-aid..and you were all salivating in anticipation, eager to savor the first sip.
after perusing my last few (and far between) entries, i had another one of my many mental fender benders..and for the first time in a long time, i had the answer. the query: "why do people read this?" you can be honest, you don't give a good god damn about what's going on at my school or how i spend my workday. my birthday? my friends? my spastic family? you lean back and yawn..scrolling for something of interest. it was only after i had delved into the archives that it became abundantly clear: y'all get pleasure from my pain. last year, i was one angry little girl, and, despite the significant upturn my life has taken since then, there are still those times that something pisses me off so badly that i just want to beat the motherfucker causing it within an inch of their life. however, such actions are deemed incarcerationable in 48 of the 50 states (assuming, of course, that alaska and hawaii are daring to be different), so i opt for a verbal ego-bashing instead of the unusually high likelihood of sharing a cell with martha stewart. i'm really not down for arts and crafts whilst bubbling with contempt.
fret not, my parched disciples, your thirst will soon be quenched.
..the bitter bitch is BACK,
lex