I'm sorry I'm not as ugly as you

Sometimes you need people in your life to suck so you're reminded of all that you aren't.
And to remind you that Facebook is a giant whore.

Cut to me.

I've become THAT girl.
You know who I mean.
The girl who gets in a new relationship and spends all her time with her new man.
I work. I sleep. I learn what the hell a bechamel is while my lover cooks dinner.
I've become one of those women I used to mock.
GET A LIFE! SPEND SOME TIME APART! BE YOUR OWN PERSON!
But I don't wanna.
He's just SO DREAMY.

So fine.
It's only been a few months.
I'm entitled to a little over indulgence.
After all, when was the last time I was in a serious relationship?
Wait.
Don't answer that.

So there I am, alone in my fabulous new apartment, the whole evening free and
I literally have no idea what to do with myself.
Seriously.
I have a cocktail.
I have dinner.
I have another cocktail.
I have dessert.
I watch some favorite episodes of Will & Grace and contemplate unpacking the clothes I've yet to touch the seven weeks they've sat in my room.
But vodka informs me my energy is too busy keeping me from falling over.

So I notice the stack of untouched magazines sitting by my piano and pick up a copy of Vogue.
Since my whirlwind romance (and by whirlwind I mean after several months of casual dating we realized we actually kinda really liked each other) I hadn't invested quality time with my girlfriends Glamour, Elle, Lucky or Vogue.
And flipping through the glossy pages my eyes stopped in shock.
There was a picture of several Hollywood actresses in black evening gowns, gorgeous, intricate designs, the kinds of dresses I'd kill to wear.
Only riddle me this: None of the women had breasts.
We're talking NO curves. Of any kind.
The dresses hung stick straight off their emaciated bodies and in place of boobs were bony collar bones.
I know Hollywood has always had skinny mania but when did Cate Blanchet start looking like she stepped out of a concentration camp?
I found the image profoundly disturbing so like any self respecting american I published a photo of it on Facebook.
Along with my oh so humble opinion that it was no longer the roaring 20's and it's sexier when women's chests are bigger than their dates.
Ba dun dun.
*jazz hands*

I'm fucking hilarious.
Apparently I'm also fucking offensive.

Suddenly, because voyeurism is SO in right now, my Facebook wall becomes the platform for some self righteous feminist agenda from two bitches that AREN'T EVEN MY FRIENDS!
We weren't even friends in high school.
Gee.
I wonder why.
Cough.
Cough.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I just can't be friends with ugly people.
I think their hideousness is contagious.

I'm sorry that my lack of pc courtesy is so terribly offensive to you but WHY ARE YOU EVEN COMMENTING ON MY WALL IN THE FIRST PLACE??
We're only "friends" because we used to avoid talking to each other in social studies class fourteen years ago and Facebook leads us to believe this connects us in some significant networking way.
Alas, it does not.
It merely allows assholes the ability to be raging pin heads while hiding behind their work laptops typing away judgement towards my propensity for being judgmental.

I have an opinion.
I'm sorry it differs from yours.
But blowing up my page with your verbal vomit is so lametastic.

Care to come to my place of business and say it to my face?

On second thought.
Please don't.
I really don't care to see your face.
I don't even look at the pictures on your Facebook page.

But I'm certain you looooooved reading this.

KISSES ALL AROUND!!!
xoxo