I'm actually TRYING to be an asshole with this one.
So if you don't have your sassy shorts on you're gonna get offended.
I'd say I'm so so sorry but we all know that's a lie.
Shalom.
And good evening to you friends and enemies.
A little birdie informed me that the bitches of Sunset High still have me on their Twitter feed.
Apparently I'm even more important than I realized.
In fact you can bet they're all reading this even as you are.
Heeey Ugos!
I know you miss me as your Facebook friend!
I felt so tickled and honored by the news that it seemed only right to pay homage to them in the form of my blog since I've spent no time thinking of them and they apparently have me as a subject for their status updates.
It reminds me of hearing stories of the good ol' Starbucks wenches continuing to chatter on about me long after I was gone.
Why is the topic even still relevant to you?
Hellooooooo!!
That was SO last season.
I've had orgasms that lasted longer.
Certainly not with that Starbucks manager, though.
Wawh waaah.
Apparently I'm so awesome they have nothing else to talk about.
Really, little girl?
You're posting a link to the Clinique website and saying they're now hiring to try and spite me?
How adorable.
What a boring little life you must lead.
But I guess if you focus all your energy on me, you won't have to deal with the reality that your own life totally blows.
Here.
I'll play along.
OH! WOE TO ME! I LOST MY JOB! MY LIFE IS RUINED!
Except it's really not.
And I'm actually happy as a clam.
And things happen for a reason.
That's why I had the lead in the high school plays and you were frenching the guy whose now a raging mo.
Question du jour:
Why are people my age incapable of staying married?
Now, I know we don't all wanna be like debutante stepford housewives circa 1965, enduring abusive relationships and men who cheat on us weekly.
--Though who wouldn't stick around for Don Draper??--Yum Yum Yummer!!--
But I can't tell you how many people I know from my graduating high school class that have been married and then one hot second later, divorce.
Will someone please explain to me why people can date and live together for years and years and years and then as soon as there's a legally binding paper involved they suddenly realize they can't stand each other and they can't make it work.
I know I've never been married but I've also never been divorced.
I think your marriage should at least last longer than the tonsil hockey you played with the clarinet player in high school.
After all, you only hooked up with him because he was the only guy who'd have you so let's assume the guy you actually married you at least liked as much as the Don Juan of band geeks.
And if you're really concerned about pleasing your man just climb on top and get to it.
Oh wait.
I forgot, you don't do that.
Don't want those wobbly bits bouncing around for him to see.
At least when I indulge in some comfort foods for a fat fat fatty I have the decency to delight in them not cough them up like some ratty hairball.
But bulimia does look so good on you.
It was cool when you were fifteen and experimenting with diet pills and shoplifting cosmetics but by the time your high schol reunion has come and gone it's time to put on your big girl pampers and learn to keep your food down.
LEARN TO SWALLOW.
This seems to be something that will help in ALL areas of your life.
Maybe if you would have dedicated half as much energy to your marriage as you have to moi and who knows what else, you wouldn't be well on your way to being another fucking cliche.
Divorced after less time than you spent trying to earn your thespian patch for that stupid letterman jacket.
But what do I know.
Everything I learned I learned from Facebook and we all know anything published there is insincerity incarnate.
The difference is I'm writing about you now to induce inappropriate laughter.
You're writing about me because you want to project your hate onto someone other than yourself.
So have at it, honey.
I'm glad I could be of service.
It's like the time Mrs. Couldn't Handle the Volcano emailed me a long, nasty hate mail letting out all the rage she'd felt over me having no problem sleeping with her ex husband.
I'm so sorry you had trouble getting it up. Hopefully your new husband is accepting of the fact you're a lesbian.
After I read all of her rant I actually said aloud, Wow she must have really needed to get that off her chest.
Let it out, girl!
If you can't climax at least get pissed.
It's as close as you're ever gonna get.
There's just one tiny thing....
That out pour of unbecoming emotion you thrust towards someone that was really only friends with you that one semester in high school because there was no one else to talk to on that trip to New York was wasted.
I DIDN'T ACTUALLY READ ANY OF IT.
That's the beauty of the delete button.
You just made yourself look like an ass who stays up late into the wee hours of the night obsessing over me instead of your own life.
Maybe you should prioritize.
Then maybe you wouldn't be in the pickle you are.
Maybe his pickle would be in you.
I'm sorry that my hair is prettier than yours and that my sex life is better and that I actually enjoy the food I swallow.
But I'm glad I gave you something to fixate all your negative energy on.
And I do always appreciate the good blog fodder.
Ugly bitches make for most entertaining prose.
That's right.
I said UGLY. BITCH.
Now watch her head explode.
TOOTALOO!!!
XOXO
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