People don’t really like “weird.” Well, I take that back…people don’t like being associated with weird, not at first at least.
Thank you, high school. If I learned anything from high school it’s that the best thing to do is conform to your surrounding social norms. Not trying to sound like a downer, but weird is/was not considered cool.
Which quite honestly, I will never understand.
I’m weird. I’ve always been aware of this fact, and probably explains why I was so quiet in high school…I knew I needed to hide that crazy shit going on in my head, bitches.
And it’s not exactly that people don’t like weird…and it’s not that these “weird” people are in fact weird. Weird is an adjective attached to many things that are NOT weird, just unexplainable for “normal” people to grasp.
For the most part people that are considered weird are in fact just brutally honest with themselves and their surroundings…and honesty is just one fact of life many people will never really feel comfortable dealing with.
Yet, normal people surrounded by “weird” people makes them feel secure…or for a lack of better words…unweird.
….what a fucking cop-out.
I don’t know how many times I’ve heard through laughing gasps of breath, “Oh god you’re so weird!”
Yet, they always come back for more, they want more laughs, they want more constant reminders that they aren’t me, and can sleep at night soundly knowing this fact reins true.
Have fun on your high horse…living your mediocre life.
Sorry I wasn’t afraid to take a chance. Or say it like is. Maybe it’s just because I am weird, but I find normal people painstakingly boring.
Get a hobby…grow some balls. Say something for once in your goddamn life that may actually offend someone.
I for one, have offended a shit tin of people (if you haven’t noticed)…also…if I haven’t offended you yet…brace yourself.
Sorry but you are not going to please everyone. So get off your fucking high horse and make a racist joke.
Get a personality. Because while yes you may think people are weird…we just find you boring.
Which quite honestly, is so much worse. No one remembers boring. No one. Why? Because you are fucking boring.
Some one had to say it.
And sorry if you got offended when I informed you that “Beer craps are in fact the best kind.”
Well…they fucking are. And you know it…or you wouldn’t have laughed if you didn’t already agree.
Or if the fact that I’m in a relationship with Hellman’s Mayo on facebook, weird’s you out. Well fuck a duck… love is love is love is loves. And if Hellman’s loves me, then I love Hellman. He’s gotten me through some tough times…can you say the same?
BTW…Ben AND Jerry are cheating on your boring ass…you can blame Cherry Garcia for that one.
I will never be that girl, who doesn’t look slightly LD when she laughs… or who can look sexy while she dances. Or who can’t not not laugh while your going down on her…because she thinking how absurd this would look if her roommate walked in.
Deal with it.
p. s. this post has nothing to do with the intern.
America...you've been warned...
Okay America,
I get it. I look exactly like my mother. But …Oh. Dear. God. The next person that comes up to me and says, “By golly, it’s like looking at the Olsen twins…except wrinklier….and fatter…and not blonde/famous/or cute.”
…I’m going to cut you.
No seriously, bitches who feel the need to point of the obvious while wolfing down a McRib, I’m going to take my butcher knife out of my party poof and cut you…. yes cut you, with a smile on my face.
That’s my bread and butter, bitches…my bread and butter.
So let me just say this… you’ve been warned, America.
Seriously, last week someone said, “You can definitely tell ya’ll are kin.”
….There are so many things wrong with that statement.
First of all, who the fuck says kin anymore?
And B…what the fucking fuck?
Is it really that weird for a 22 year-old daughter to look EXACTLY like her 52 year-old mother.
Isn’t that the basic philosophy of Botox/Low-Carb Diets/Quiznos?
I’d show you a picture of my madre and me so you could see the resemblance, but my bro keeps snitching on me when I write about my parents.
Bro, you’re 26, stop snitching, or I won’t be your DD to the strip club this week...but thanks for reading my blog.
The worst part is my mom fucking loves that shit. Never fails to plaster a shit-eating grin on her face when she gets compared to someone 30 years younger than her.
“I bet I get carded today.”
“…Sure you will.”
She did… get carded that day. Whatever, I had braces then…it was a very weird scenario.
Well, to be perfectly honest she loved getting compared to me until just recently….
I shit you not, a cashier said this to me and my mother on Sunday….
“Well at least… when your mother dies, every time you look in the mirror…it will be like she never left.”
“…Great.”
I don’t think this pleased my mom….
“What the fucking fuck?!”
I get it. I look exactly like my mother. But …Oh. Dear. God. The next person that comes up to me and says, “By golly, it’s like looking at the Olsen twins…except wrinklier….and fatter…and not blonde/famous/or cute.”
…I’m going to cut you.
No seriously, bitches who feel the need to point of the obvious while wolfing down a McRib, I’m going to take my butcher knife out of my party poof and cut you…. yes cut you, with a smile on my face.
That’s my bread and butter, bitches…my bread and butter.
So let me just say this… you’ve been warned, America.
Seriously, last week someone said, “You can definitely tell ya’ll are kin.”
….There are so many things wrong with that statement.
First of all, who the fuck says kin anymore?
And B…what the fucking fuck?
Is it really that weird for a 22 year-old daughter to look EXACTLY like her 52 year-old mother.
Isn’t that the basic philosophy of Botox/Low-Carb Diets/Quiznos?
I’d show you a picture of my madre and me so you could see the resemblance, but my bro keeps snitching on me when I write about my parents.
Bro, you’re 26, stop snitching, or I won’t be your DD to the strip club this week...but thanks for reading my blog.
The worst part is my mom fucking loves that shit. Never fails to plaster a shit-eating grin on her face when she gets compared to someone 30 years younger than her.
“I bet I get carded today.”
“…Sure you will.”
She did… get carded that day. Whatever, I had braces then…it was a very weird scenario.
Well, to be perfectly honest she loved getting compared to me until just recently….
I shit you not, a cashier said this to me and my mother on Sunday….
“Well at least… when your mother dies, every time you look in the mirror…it will be like she never left.”
“…Great.”
I don’t think this pleased my mom….
“What the fucking fuck?!”
and now a serious moment with natalie...
I have commitment/dependency/intimacy issues. I have said this a million times…and will probably say it a million times more. Something is wrong with me and I am fully aware of that fact.
It’s kind of like being perfectly aware of your addiction to alcohol… I know the situation is wrong, but I’m functioning…so I ain’t changing shit.
I know where it comes from too. I was 15 and this 17 year-old asshole basically cheated on my (with my best friend at the time) because I wouldn’t do what he wanted.
I’ve never been in a relationship since. I’m 22.
And for the most part, I don’t really care. But there are days man, where you just get so sick of “society” telling you that you are a lesser person because you are, in fact, not in a committed relationship.
Thank you, Katherine Heigel.
…bitch.
But yet, here I sit…thinking of my 3 good friends huddled around a table…drinking Michelob…and just completely frustrated with the taboos and speculations of the opposite sex.
Four beautiful girls…brilliant at what they do…longing for more than a silly boy in life…yet we fill this void because America tells us we are a complete part of society unless we are completely with someone else.
And at this point it’s more of a rebellion thing than anything else.
I feel like I’ve grown up in the past year since I graduated college…and I actually think I may be ready to get over some bullshit that happened to in 10th grade…
Yet America also tells us that we should never fully open up. Unless filled with ridiculous amounts of Michelob Ultra.
And as cliché as it sounds…I know this situation won’t change (for me at least)… until I take a chance. (Vomit.)
So let me finally get to my point…it looks like this “taking a chance” will be coming sooner rather than later…Thanks so my lovely boss who told the boss of the intern I like that I…well…like him.
Turns out he may...may... like me too.
And I can already feel my body recoiling in fear. The same symptoms are popping up.
Denial. Complete mental shut down. Flatulence.
So this is my social experiment to “not fuck this up.”
That yes, I will laugh at his jokes…all of his “jokes”. And yes I will blush when he laughs at my perfectly timed black joke. I will not make fun of his hand size….or correct his incorrect assertion about Saturday Night Live (right away).
This is my first social experiment with myself…and if it doesn’t work…then I blame that annoying chick from “Gilmore Girls”. Alexis Bledel.
Fucking asshole.
for those of you blissfully unaware...
I used to have adult braces when I was 21.
…I’m now 22.
Those days still haunt me.
I don’t think I will ever be able to accurately explain the mental havoc adult braces cause on the individual psyche.
It fucking sucks.
I’ve had a 13 year-old hit on me in a Dairy Queen…I don’t want to talk about it.
So if you ever find yourself in this terrible situation…yell at your parents for not loving you when you were younger and then get the ceramic braces.
They don’t make a difference up close…and they will cause you to uncontrollably snore/drool/fart(don’t ask)…but they aren’t noticeable about 10ft away…so that way that guy walking towards you won’t notice them till about 3ft and then he can’t turn around without looking like a total douche in front of your friends…
ANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNND that way…even with adult braces…he will be forced to talk to you for approximately 10 minutes…giving you ample opportunity to allow your personality to sparkle…and roofie his drink.
It’s a win-win situation to be quite honest...
He gets laid…and you get to tell yourself you aren’t sexually repulsive to the opposite sex…even though you did in fact dope him up with roofies.
Whatever…fuck you…bitches with braces got feelings too.
Sometimes I hate being a girl...
I hate the moments when I realize that why yes, in fact I am a girl.
…like when I can’t open a pickle jar without one of those old lady finger pad thingies…or when I realize that I have no clue how to properly use lighter fluid…OR when I look down at my legs and I don’t see a penis dangling in between my hairy legs….
Side note: Dude, if I had a penis…I’d play with that shit all day long. I’d jerk it…do card tricks with it…turn it into a lasso, and try to…um…lasso shit…hit people with it (in a nonsexual manner of course.) Oh god…the list just goes on forever.
Any who…I’m a pretty independent person…and I intend to keep it that way…so when these little nuances…like not having a penis…or upper body strength…pop up…this bitch gets pissed.
And I know I could probably fix this situation, by doing a couple of push-ups…and reading directions.
But where is the fun in that? There isn’t any. It’s fucking work. I don’t like work.
It’s a catch-22 really. I want to stay independent….but I'm cute so don’t want to do any of the work.
Look, I’m good at three things…writing…straightening my hair…creating perfectly timed black jokes….you don’t need upper body strength for these skills…unless the black joke goes awry.
I’m okay with that.
I know some of you feminists out there are not. You guys annoy me anyways…so I don’t really care if
I piss that lot off.
So all in all…all this being annoyingly pissed off about, since I’m a girl that there will be moments where I can’t be a 100% independent, made me realize a huge flaw in this logic. What if I was just dependent on someone for a change? What’s the harm in that shit?
It’s a win-win really. I don’t have to do any of the work…and I get to lie to myself and say I’m still independent.
Did I just grow up a little?
Whatever, I’m pretty. Don’t contradict me.
…like when I can’t open a pickle jar without one of those old lady finger pad thingies…or when I realize that I have no clue how to properly use lighter fluid…OR when I look down at my legs and I don’t see a penis dangling in between my hairy legs….
Side note: Dude, if I had a penis…I’d play with that shit all day long. I’d jerk it…do card tricks with it…turn it into a lasso, and try to…um…lasso shit…hit people with it (in a nonsexual manner of course.) Oh god…the list just goes on forever.
Any who…I’m a pretty independent person…and I intend to keep it that way…so when these little nuances…like not having a penis…or upper body strength…pop up…this bitch gets pissed.
And I know I could probably fix this situation, by doing a couple of push-ups…and reading directions.
But where is the fun in that? There isn’t any. It’s fucking work. I don’t like work.
It’s a catch-22 really. I want to stay independent….but I'm cute so don’t want to do any of the work.
Look, I’m good at three things…writing…straightening my hair…creating perfectly timed black jokes….you don’t need upper body strength for these skills…unless the black joke goes awry.
I’m okay with that.
I know some of you feminists out there are not. You guys annoy me anyways…so I don’t really care if
I piss that lot off.
So all in all…all this being annoyingly pissed off about, since I’m a girl that there will be moments where I can’t be a 100% independent, made me realize a huge flaw in this logic. What if I was just dependent on someone for a change? What’s the harm in that shit?
It’s a win-win really. I don’t have to do any of the work…and I get to lie to myself and say I’m still independent.
Did I just grow up a little?
Whatever, I’m pretty. Don’t contradict me.
Maybe I'm a little too honest...
I’m cute… but I’m disgusting….and lazy…and weird…and kind of an asshole…and a smidge pathetic….
And for a second I thought maybe that w I should reflect on my lesser qualities/philosophies/addiction to mayo and you know…fix that.
…yeah…um…nahhhhhhh.
I started making a list of all my weird shit and it’s bad… like really bad (and sadly all true) ….pretty much… I’m literally wiping out any chance I have of getting laid with this one blog post.
…you’ve been warned.
1. I shave my big toes…they just have these 3 hairs that drive me crazy…and are a bitch to pluck.
2. I hate, hate, hate brushing my teeth…. I really do.
3. Mayo…dollops and dollops of mayo….enough said.
4. KFC Double Down…filled with dollops and dollops of mayo…
5. I’m convinced one day I’m going to be possessed by the devil…or maybe I already am…
6. My dream is to be famous based solely on all the disgusting shit I do… it’s a valid life choice.
7. I often ask myself…. “Why am I not slutty…er?”
8. Fuck flossing.
9. I think all jeans should have an elastic waist-band/spanx/a portable McFlurry maker installed in them.
10. My favorite dessert…hostess mini donuts topped off with a shit ton of vanilla icing fresh out of spray can….but, like 12 of them…in my mouth…at once.
11. My feet smell like fritos (when I don’t wear socks)…I don’t plan on fixing that.
12. My feet also sweat….like…all the time.
13. What does Grade D meat stand for? Damn Delicious meat…that’s what!
14. “Oh…it’s extra, extra, extra mayo girl again…”
15. In the winter I legit don’t shave my legs….it’s the closest I can get to feeling like a man.
16. On second thought… I’m pretty sure I do have a penis….
17. So what exactly is wrong with porn?
18. Fuck fruit.
19. If I had a penis…I wouldn’t wash it….deal with it.
20. One day some dude was staring at me in a truck when I was walking to campus…I screamed…”What the fuck are you looking at?!?”… it was my cousin.
21. I love the smell of chloroform.
22. I use my macbook to write/shield my food boner/conconct mayo masterpieces on….oh and watch porn.
23. I probably won’t care if you thought I was racist…as long as you think I’m pretty.
24. I have dandruff…I don’t plan on fixing that…
25. I like the taste of iron.
26. I just farted.
27. My soul mate is named Bell…Taco Bell.
28. Usually when I think my cell phone is vibrating…it’s just my upper thighs jiggling.
29. I hate nature…like legitimately hate nature.
30. Stereotypes are my favorite pastime….
There’s more…but you know I don’t want you to vomit in your mouth too much…
And for a second I thought maybe that w I should reflect on my lesser qualities/philosophies/addiction to mayo and you know…fix that.
…yeah…um…nahhhhhhh.
I started making a list of all my weird shit and it’s bad… like really bad (and sadly all true) ….pretty much… I’m literally wiping out any chance I have of getting laid with this one blog post.
…you’ve been warned.
1. I shave my big toes…they just have these 3 hairs that drive me crazy…and are a bitch to pluck.
2. I hate, hate, hate brushing my teeth…. I really do.
3. Mayo…dollops and dollops of mayo….enough said.
4. KFC Double Down…filled with dollops and dollops of mayo…
5. I’m convinced one day I’m going to be possessed by the devil…or maybe I already am…
6. My dream is to be famous based solely on all the disgusting shit I do… it’s a valid life choice.
7. I often ask myself…. “Why am I not slutty…er?”
8. Fuck flossing.
9. I think all jeans should have an elastic waist-band/spanx/a portable McFlurry maker installed in them.
10. My favorite dessert…hostess mini donuts topped off with a shit ton of vanilla icing fresh out of spray can….but, like 12 of them…in my mouth…at once.
11. My feet smell like fritos (when I don’t wear socks)…I don’t plan on fixing that.
12. My feet also sweat….like…all the time.
13. What does Grade D meat stand for? Damn Delicious meat…that’s what!
14. “Oh…it’s extra, extra, extra mayo girl again…”
15. In the winter I legit don’t shave my legs….it’s the closest I can get to feeling like a man.
16. On second thought… I’m pretty sure I do have a penis….
17. So what exactly is wrong with porn?
18. Fuck fruit.
19. If I had a penis…I wouldn’t wash it….deal with it.
20. One day some dude was staring at me in a truck when I was walking to campus…I screamed…”What the fuck are you looking at?!?”… it was my cousin.
21. I love the smell of chloroform.
22. I use my macbook to write/shield my food boner/conconct mayo masterpieces on….oh and watch porn.
23. I probably won’t care if you thought I was racist…as long as you think I’m pretty.
24. I have dandruff…I don’t plan on fixing that…
25. I like the taste of iron.
26. I just farted.
27. My soul mate is named Bell…Taco Bell.
28. Usually when I think my cell phone is vibrating…it’s just my upper thighs jiggling.
29. I hate nature…like legitimately hate nature.
30. Stereotypes are my favorite pastime….
There’s more…but you know I don’t want you to vomit in your mouth too much…
Just in case you were wondering...
My life is not hard.
I live such an upper middle-class white class suburban life it’s almost nauseating…well…not nauseating for me…this shit is heaven…but maybe for you who are forced to read about it.
…as I float around in my parents pool…sipping a case of Michelob Ultra…watching my
weimaraner and standard poodle bark at the bad golfers as play by my backyard …all to the easy listening of ZZ Top.
Which side note: I love ZZ top…I really do…but after a while all their songs sound exactly alike…you know that I am right.
Any who…back to the white life…it’s a beautiful picture really, with my bikini clad body reflecting sunlight (like it so often does) into the eyes of my ridiculously annoying neighbor kids.
Whatever, they deserve it.
Everything about me screams white…from my wayfayers…to my lacoste polos…to my unadulterated hatred towards liberal hippie douches/hipsters/jewish guys adorning lip rings.
Even, my “career choice” screams white. How many girls did you know in college that wanted to be writers?
“My thoughts are so thought-provoking and shit…it’s like legit…like fuck Siliva Plath and shit…that girl needed to get laid.”
…exactly.
We crackers all think that our thoughts are so unique and deserving of your time…they’re not.
Have you read my blog recently? I ramble on about mayo…and porn….and yes you laugh…but I’m pretty sure half of you laugh out of pure embarrassment that you even ended up at this web site… while the other half are just waiting for me to sell out and turn this into a porn web site.
I don’t know why I feel this constant need to inform you all that I’m white all of a sudden…but while we are on the subject…yes, it is true…I am in fact not an ethnic.
…just in case you were wondering.
I live such an upper middle-class white class suburban life it’s almost nauseating…well…not nauseating for me…this shit is heaven…but maybe for you who are forced to read about it.
…as I float around in my parents pool…sipping a case of Michelob Ultra…watching my
weimaraner and standard poodle bark at the bad golfers as play by my backyard …all to the easy listening of ZZ Top.
Which side note: I love ZZ top…I really do…but after a while all their songs sound exactly alike…you know that I am right.
Any who…back to the white life…it’s a beautiful picture really, with my bikini clad body reflecting sunlight (like it so often does) into the eyes of my ridiculously annoying neighbor kids.
Whatever, they deserve it.
Everything about me screams white…from my wayfayers…to my lacoste polos…to my unadulterated hatred towards liberal hippie douches/hipsters/jewish guys adorning lip rings.
Even, my “career choice” screams white. How many girls did you know in college that wanted to be writers?
“My thoughts are so thought-provoking and shit…it’s like legit…like fuck Siliva Plath and shit…that girl needed to get laid.”
…exactly.
We crackers all think that our thoughts are so unique and deserving of your time…they’re not.
Have you read my blog recently? I ramble on about mayo…and porn….and yes you laugh…but I’m pretty sure half of you laugh out of pure embarrassment that you even ended up at this web site… while the other half are just waiting for me to sell out and turn this into a porn web site.
I don’t know why I feel this constant need to inform you all that I’m white all of a sudden…but while we are on the subject…yes, it is true…I am in fact not an ethnic.
…just in case you were wondering.
Shit my mom says....
Me: Oh dear god…I never want kids.
Mom: No you’ve got to pop out at least one so you don’t get breast cancer.
“I wonder what would happen if I farted into my i-phone’s voice recognition.”
Mom: Your father and I are apart of the NPL.
Me: What the fuck is that?
Mom: National porn league.
“I’m a fan of doggy.”
“You want to know the secret to a successful marriage? Beer.”
“You better get famous, I want to walk around naked in your house in the Hamptons and walk in on you and your husband doing it… and be like ‘yeah this is awkward isn’t it’…next time knock!”
“I don’t get your generation’s fixation on giving head…just have sex.”
Me: So I think this lesbian likes me…
Mom: Alright, this is what you do…you just start talking about how you want to fuck the shit out of this dude….and get graphic.
“Are you a lesbian?”
“Birth control and a condom….and you’re still here.”
“No seriously…do you like girls?”
Mom: No you’ve got to pop out at least one so you don’t get breast cancer.
“I wonder what would happen if I farted into my i-phone’s voice recognition.”
Mom: Your father and I are apart of the NPL.
Me: What the fuck is that?
Mom: National porn league.
“I’m a fan of doggy.”
“You want to know the secret to a successful marriage? Beer.”
“You better get famous, I want to walk around naked in your house in the Hamptons and walk in on you and your husband doing it… and be like ‘yeah this is awkward isn’t it’…next time knock!”
“I don’t get your generation’s fixation on giving head…just have sex.”
Me: So I think this lesbian likes me…
Mom: Alright, this is what you do…you just start talking about how you want to fuck the shit out of this dude….and get graphic.
“Are you a lesbian?”
“Birth control and a condom….and you’re still here.”
“No seriously…do you like girls?”
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