I am not an adult...

Or at least I don't act like one. If you don't believe me, just read on.

1. I just spent 5 minutes trying to untangle my earphones out of my polygamist wife hair.

2. I haven't been up before 9 am-10 am in about a month now.

3. Things I have thought to myself today:

  a. "Pollack...what a great racial slur." 

  b. "Why aren't there more raisins in the knock off Raisin Bran?" 

  c. "What's that smell? ...oh."

4. I'm 24 and I don't have health insurance. Even with this Obamacare shiz I'm still not covered. 

5. I'm a fucking nanny.

6. I get in daily arguments with a 5 year old... because I'm a fucking nanny.

7. I usually lose these daily arguments with the 5 year old.

8. I often find myself in deep conversations with nannies from Trinidad about the most effective ways to lose weight...because I'm a fucking nanny!

9. I usually don't put on any clothes until about 3 in the afternoon.

10. Still haven't figured out this, "how to properly show affection in public" thang.

11. I just used the word, "thang."

12. I ate burritos for breakfast today.

13. Well, I ate burritos for breakfast, right after I finished a bowl of healthy knock off raisin bran.

14. I buy knock off raisin bran...amongst other things.

15. I'm very excited to partake in Burger King's new bacon sundae.

16. I call it a productive day if I have written half a blog post.

17. I like popping zits.

18. I like popping zits a little too much.

19. I laugh at the Asian racial slurs the 9- year old I nanny says a little too hard.

20. I basically want to find a job where I never have to leave my bed, put on clothes or interact with the general public... and I keep telling myself this is a possibility.

I can't be alone on this...

Nature. Not a fan. It’s so tall and arrogant. Like, “look at me my pretty leaves sway in the wind as I blow gnats into your face.” You little whore. Waving your leaves for all the boys to see. That’s what skanks do nature. That’s what skanks do.

And don’t be such a cliché, nature…that annoys me. And why do you have to be such a bitch? You just can’t seem wait another month for me to lose my winter weight, now can yah? Oh no of course not, Mother Nature. You want the whole world to see my muffin top….bitch.

Honestly, nature you have become a drain on the society. With all your “Save me! Save me!” bullshit. Beggars disgust me, and you nature, are a beggar. You don’t see me begging passerby’s for Tasti D-lite, now do you? That one time last week doesn't count… whatever, fuck you, I have needs.

I think we can all agree that technology supplies us with the sufficient amount of nature to satisfy our natural needs. If you even have any. You sick fuck.

If I could sum up nature with one word it would be, “Meh, it looks better on TV.”

When I want to see nature at its “finest” (which is never) I’ll just DVR the Discovery Channel or watch "Planet Earth" high.

I’ve never trusted nature, and I never will. What are you hiding up in those red woods, you sadist bastards? It seems like some voodoo magic to me. Think I’m crazy? Well we’ll just see whose laughing when the Velociraptors come out at night during your “night hike”. And who the fuck hikes at night? Velociraptors with guns, that’s who. Well them and liberal hippie douches.

We need to be careful, or nature will try to fight for it’s natural right on this planet. Which, um hello, it has no right. Can nature vote during presidential elections? Does nature shovel Ben & Jerry’s into its mouth when Joey doesn’t call when he said he would? Does nature wear pleated-pants?

No. No it doesn’t.

Know your role, nature. Know your role. Or we’ll just keep replacing you with those synthetic plants from Home Depot.

Men of NYC, I'm sorry but you are gay until proven straight.

Listen, gentlemen of NYC, but it is true, you are gay until proven straight.

Honestly, you should take that as a compliment, not being able to tell your sexuality based soley on your appearance and general mannurisms means that you convey a sense of classiness and confidence with a slight smidge of gay.

I'm sorry, but those shoes you are wearing are a little too stylish for a single female like myself not not to hesitate for at least a couple of seconds.  And the whole hipster look doesn't help your cause either. The hipster look is a little girly... Can we all agree on that?

And i know you are just trying to be "ironic" but you are using thst word incorrectly, and now you've just pissed me the fuck off, yes you, "straight" man dressed in a "suns out guns out" tank. Your guns aren't even that great, asshole.

Or how about when you constantly tell me, "I'm going vegan to get rid of my bitch tits."Yeah...that kind of screams gay.

We ladies are also allowed to question your sexuality when you tell us that you are a world class tapper. Tap? You specialize in tap dancing?!

God. Fucking. Damnit.

You look like Patrick Wilson, and laughed at all my stupid/douchy jokes. (Of course you laughed though, gay or straight, I'm fucking hilarious.)

However another gay dude said you were straight... And I trust a gay man's gaydar. Well every gay dude with the exception of the one gay dude who always tells me, "He said he liked you? That means he likes dick." 

Probably, specific gay dude who says that to me constantly, probably... but that is my point! Until he has proven that he actually doesn't like the dick...I will always assume he's gay...always.

And how are you going to remedy this situation, not obviously straight men of NYC? Fuck if I know, but I have a feeling that feathered fedora you are sporting isn't helping your cause.

Another awesome email found in my blog's gmail account...

My name ain't Simone bitch! But how did you know I wasn't on the pill?!

And I'm not sure how I feel about doing a birth control pill giveaway...but I would love that $50 Visa giftcard...

Brace Yourself...

I'm basically about to ruin any chance with any dude that ever found me remotely cute.

Enjoy!

1. I buy mayo in economized sized vats as big as a horses head.

2. I used to like Vienna sausages.

3. I've had sex with a dude named Mordecai.

4. I still like Vienna sausages.

5. I've eaten a whole birthday cake in one sitting.

6. I am almost always half-naked while eating....it's really the only way to thoroughly enjoy food.

7. Web MD has brought me to tears because it made me think I was pregnant...on multiple occasions.

8. Almost threw up in class because of taking Plan B the day prior.

9. I've found Cheetos residue in my bra...on multiple occasions.

10. One time I got super duper high and dipped tortilla chips in vanilla icing. It. Was. Amazing.

11. I'm obsessed with the song "Electric Avenue."

12. The Cosby Show is probably my favorite sitcom.

13. I like Kesha...she's a lyrical genius, god damnit.

14. Cheez Whiz? Yes, please!

15. I don't believe in science....well I "believe" in it, I just don't respect it.

16. I used to have a rock collection.

17. I have a very distinct look, it's a little bit white trash...a little bit, "Does she have a roofie in her  hands?"And a smidge..."Meh, she's doable."

18. I just had to Google "roofie" so I could spell it correctly.

19. When I place my cell phone on my stomach, I can't feel it vibrate.

20. I really have a gift at making friends with older black ladies in random places...I think it has something to do with my sassitude.

21. Hate sex is my favorite type of sex.

22. My first reaction to a dude staring at me will always be to check if there is food on my face...and there usually is.

23. A couple of weeks ago I killed a shit ton of nature with a stroller. It was the best day of my life.

24. I have sexually fantasized about my 11th grade AP english teacher...and I know I'm not the only one (ladies...and gentlemen).

25. I have febreezed my jeans...on mulitple occasions.

26. I single-handedly got all siblings banned from school fieldtrips at my brother's school...when I was four.

27. I do not know how to show affection in public properly.

BAAAHHHHHHH.....

There’s nothing more black sheepy than openly pouring vodka out of a flask into a champagne flute filled with sparkling apple cider at your cousin’s southern Baptist wedding…during the best man’s toast.

But I think there are moments in your life where some higher being is testing you and your character. And at 10:45p.m. on Saturday night my “test of character” was whether or not I am an alcoholic.

Guess what. I am.

To be completely honest, I failed this  “test” around six p.m. when my brother, his girlfriend and myself realized that there was a bar right next to the pre-pre reception area, and practically ran (with cash in hand) to the hipster bartender and panted, “Do you… have…Michelob…Ultra?”

He did.

We smiled. And walked back amongst the Baptists with 2 beers in each hand gleefully smiling at the fact that we were about to be inebriated WHILE simultaneously offending 95% of the wedding party. 

Now that, my friends, is a skill that cannot be taught.

Does this make me a terrible person? Absolutely. I will never deny the fact that I don’t make the most mature decisions in my life. They are mostly based on what I want at that particular moment. And at that particular moment I wanted an IV filled with grain alcohol attached to my arm. But at that moment, Michelob Ultra was the next best thing.

I’m sorry. But I want, what I want, when I want it. And if that makes me a selfish, immature asshole, then so be it. I’m only 23; I can do that “mature” bullshit later.

Yes, I should have been the mature cousin that I want my southern Baptist family to see me as, but seeing as they have absolutely no clue what I really am like… and yet I’m still considered a black sheep…why hide the truth from them any longer?

And come on! When you are being constantly bombarded with “When are you getting married, sugah?”/”Why aren’t you dating anyone, sugah?”/”Did New York City make you a lesbian, sugah?” A constant flow of alcohol is necessary to numb the pain from endless hours of biting ones tongue. (Weed would have been good at that moment, too.)

What really pisses me off is these people will never know what I am truly like, because if they did, I would naturally be shunned from any social gathering. They never need to know that my favorite pastime is drinking/writing while completely and/or half naked.

They never need to know about my opinions on abortions, because surely we shall disagree.

And I’m praying to God, none of them noticed me flipping off my brother in the church, while waiting to take the family wedding picture.

I think what pisses me off the most is that they have automatically written me off as an unreligious drunk heathen. But I’m Catholic! I’m like kind of super duper religious.

Drinking doesn’t make you less religious, southern Baptists. It just makes you a shit ton more fun to be around. And I know you won’t agree with me until you drink, but you never will partake in that beautiful moment when the alcohol touches your lips.

So until you can see that I’m obviously right, all I have to say to you is… Bahhhhhhhhhhh.

11 AM...

Flask is filled. I don't know the meaning of a "dry" wedding. There may or may not be a cooler filled with Michelob in the car. And my mother and I may or may not have shouted in glee when we realized there was a bar at the hotel where the "dry" reception is being held.



Is this called alcoholism or being the black sheep? I don't know, but you better believe my next post will be about the absurdity of being forced to partake in the joyous event of two souls being united in holy matrimony...."sober."

Fingers crossed for some good ol' drunken slurs out of my classy assed mouth while talking to the southern bapist groomsmen. 

Cause this is a totally normal conversation to with a 5 year old...

5 year old: Natalie, are you wearing your Superman bra?

Me: ...No.

5 year old: Yes you are.

Me: How can you tell?

5 year old: They just look different.

Me: They look different?

5 year old: Yeah. They look happier.

Me: Happier?

Side note: Best way to communicate with children...just repeat the last thing they said. Totally sounds like you are paying attention.

5 year old: Yeah, you know. (Point to face then smiles.) Happier.

I look down.

Me: Yeah, I guess they look happier.

5 year old: Natalie. Can you just take off your bra so I can wear it?

Me: Uh...no.

5 year old: Why not?

Me: Because...because...no.

5 year old: Natalie, may I please wear your Superman bra.

Me: No.

5 year old: But I said please!

Me: No dice, kid.

5 year old: I don't want to play with dice. I want to wear your bra.

Me: It's an expression. It means you are not going to get what you want.

5 year old: Fine. I'm going to draw now. And I'm not drawing a picture of you.

Me: Are you going to draw Superman?

5 year old: ...Yes.