Yeah. Um. I Just Don’t Give a Flaming Flatus.
I really don’t give a flaming flatus for your helpful censorship plug-in.
Like, maybe it’s just me or something, but I’ve kind-of managed to get through life without like, you know, listening to how other people think I should talk, or what is appropriate for a lady.
I’m not trying to lean-in to anything, cause I could tip over and fall.
I just stride right in and take a seat. It was probably reserved. But once I’m on it, people are often too embarrassed for me to ask that I move.
Sometimes I bump into walls and just keep going, like I didn’t just make a fool of myself.
I ignore ceilings too, except if the bulb is flickering — which is really very annoying.
I just couldn’t give a flaming flatus if that’s all wrong.
I try not to say anything — because that would just be rude — but it really bothers me when people try to make me a better me. Like being me is too much hard work to trust someone like me to do it.
Maybe I am carrying around some sort of inadequacy, but, if you don’t mind my saying, it’s my inadequacy. I might have grown to love it.
I’m as comfortable with my inferiority as I am with my shoes — which are obviously not heels.
I like to do a lot of figurative running and heels are just ridiculously impractical.
I kind of think there are already enough heels in life, you know. We should all just try to walk our own path in comfortable shoes. But maybe that’s just me.
Frankly, I just can’t give a flaming flatus.
Like, you know how at some point all of us try to be the thing everyone says we should be?
And you’re all like, ‘Which thing, because your rules keep changing?’
But they’re all like, ‘Don’t you know already? Geez! Because the examples are like clearly in front of you — can’t you see the right thing to be? Right there! Like her, for example. NOT him. Stop looking at him! What? Do you like him or something? If so, you need this lipstick.’
I’ve always sucked at all that because I just couldn’t give a flaming flatus.
Sorry. I felt like I needed to say this, but I’m probably wrong.
Not that I give a..yeah, you know.
And, by the way.
Please..don’t call me girl. ’Cause it’s been like 40 years since I was seven.
Thank you for listening.