One blog post and eight million writing topics later…
…and I can think of one line of text per.
And I can think “so what?” infinity times.
Yes, many bosses *are* douche bags.
Yes, it *does* appear that my mother very much wanted two little girls, but does not have much interest in the unintended consequence of having two middle-aged women.
Why yes! I do have a Bill-Murray-in-Osmosis-Jones-style white head ON MY EYEBALL right now.
Uniqlo stocks in bulk a year in advance? I think that’s also how Olive Garden keeps prices low.
More bus-only lanes + Seattle = Global Hate.
And yes, I think there’s a really weird passive-aggressive show down lather/rinse/repeating infinity times on the bike/foot/stroller/mountain board with propelling stick path at Greenlake. It’s like, the only way for some people to feel hard: Walk in an Abercrombie-outfitted posse of at least three abreast and stare down anyone who isn’t willing to walk all the fucking way around your posse or directly into the path of something zooming by on wheels BECAUSE YOU’RE NOBODY’S FUCKING BITCH AND YOU AIN’T MOVIN’ A FUCKING INCH LIKE A DECENT FUCKING HUMAN BEING WHO’S HEARD OF A SOCIAL CONTRACT!!! AND BECAUSE FUCK ALL YOU MOTHER FUCKERS! AND BECAUSE I HAVE NO OUTLET FOR ANGER BECAUSE I LIVE IN STUPID FUCKING SEATTLE. Yeah, I am aware of this phenomenon.
It’s annoying when people write off everything published online as bullshit only a moron would take into account. It’s like ignoring the New York Times because The National Enquirer is also printed on paper.
Like Ferris Bueller, I am generally not a fan of the isms.
Why don’t I bother writing down ideas for writing? Like in a writing book where I could write things to write about later when I think it’s time to write?
How did I turn unemployment + my living room into a clearing house for my friends’ unwanted fashions with the goal of getting $20 from Buffalo Exchange? When I also hate feeling judged as they go through the clothes I bring in?
And yes, I *do* wonder how I can bring my unique and uplifting voice to people when all I want to do with this blog is bitch in neither prose nor poetic form. Pretty much all day, every day in fact.
And yes, I am definitely the cosmic counter-balance for Patton Oswalt, who needs a blog as badly as I need a Twitter account.
Also, I totally heart Seattle. And my mother. And Ferris Beuller. And the Senate. But I hate those bus lane jerks.