Merry whatever

15 Dec

Sometimes when I feel really down about my current state of affairs (not single), I read the blog of some girl I went to high school with. In it, she talks about being married, Jesus and where she should go to grad school. Not that I’m particularly against any of these items, it just makes me feel better that there is someone out there who inherently sucks more than I do.

Recently, I saw a professional photoshoot of her and her hubs (as she calls him – BLECH) taken to celebrate their one year of marriage. They’re both in sweater sets. This is my nightmare.

Who the FUCK needs photographic evidence that you’ve been married for a year? I’d rather rip my face off with my own hands and feed my flesh to my new fish before acting like that. I will never stoop to that level of suck. BTW, got a fish.

She’s pretty much my outlet for the daily angst that I wake up with. Also, I’m trying to lose five pounds by only eating fried food and lying in my bed, which is a constant cycle of depression.

But then. But then. BUT THEN. I get up, realize that my life actually doesn’t suck, and feel bad for Miss Baby Blues. At least I don’t write this blog like a make believe fucking fairytale about how great my life really isn’t. I choose silence instead. Silence of the Mothafuckin lambs. So here’s the truth – I have a little nuggety boyfriend and I am not a Victoria’s Secret model (forgive me if I lied to you). Even if I wear five layers of fake eyelashes and ten coats of black eyeliner, I am also not ke$ha. And if I start telling you life lessons about how to share an iPAD with your husband (#notswag), then you’ll know someone is holding my bun sock (#swag) ransom to write this post. If you don’t know what a bun sock is, then you clearly don’t live by the motto High Heels, High Buns. And I only wish I was referring to my ass.

Instead of attacking men at bars and going on useless first dates just for free food, here is what I deem as fun:
– Emailing ex-boyfriends from a made up email account (if you’re lucky I’ll post one)
– Calling the RU at work and telling him it’s Marguerite from upstairs (bring me that fax now you little fuck – RIGHT FUCKING NOW) and then laughing that he still doesn’t know it’s me
– Planning vintage fur trunk shows at my office without permission
– Sending my co-workers new business ideas based on things I heard Lady Gaga say (I believe the theme should be “I’m as free as my hair” because I am my hair) – like what? Did I seriously propose throwing a Monster Ball party today? Yes, yep, yippity YEP.
– Complaining about that song “Moves like Jagger”
– Seeing how many days I can go without washing my hair (seven), then telling my boss I haven’t washed my hair in seven days
– Idolizing Cat Marnell by reading everything she has ever written
– Rapping
– Spelling rapping like raping by accident

SEE? I am still fun. This is what fun people do. This is how I keep busy while 99% of my friends plan for their upcoming nuptials. There’s an E in my MERRY. Not an A. But dang, whatever. Don’t you know I wanna shoop, bahbay?

 

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