Dear Future Leslee;
I think everybody needs to write at least one poorly planned drunken post and I am going to write mine now before I am sober enough to regret doing something this legitimately ill-advised. Sure, you might be like “But Past Leslee! You are making a POOR CHOICE!” But I will be all like “Cram it up your cram hole you communist bastard” and then our argument will just devolve into yelling random socialist insults, and who really wants that?
You do? Well, I’m sorry, Future Me, but it has been more than a week since I’ve updated this BLARGH and I think it’s time I stopped by and spilled some moderately incoherent words on to this surprisingly electronic page. It’s like surprise! Technology! And also it took me literally seven tries to spell surprise so really be fucking impressed my lads and ladies. Yes, lads and ladies. Just in case you ever confused me with somebody cool, let me fix your brain issues. YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME, THE INTERNET.
Sure, some small, still mostly awake part of you is yelling “Capitalizing things doesn’t make them sensical! Nice try, ass hat!” but screw you, the internet doesn’t know any better.
Here are the things my quite shmamered self is thinking about right now: my highschool prom, my friend Haleyz going overseas with the airforce, my bitchy aunt’s farm out in the booneys, whether my bitchy aunt has facebook and just read this, how I should probably drink a glass or six of water, and how ultimately grateful I am for all the wonderful people I have in my life.
Because if there is one thing booze will do, it is make you remember how lucky you are. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, my random friends from highschool. Thank you, spellcheck. Thank you, cute boys who wear belts. Thank you, library, for giving me an awesome childhood. Thank you, various pets. Thank you. EVERYBODY, and sorry for the typos.
I don’t claim to be perfect. I don’t claim to be anything close to it. I barely hope that in fifty years some vague spawn of mine will look back on my past with something bordering on fondness and reflect that maybe I wasn’t a complete waste of oxygen after all. Is it heartbreaking that my greatest hope is that my descendents won’t outright regret my sheer existence? Or is it more pathetic that I would record those same insecurities for the world to experience? Thank you, everyone, and sorry for the typos.
That might just end up on my tombstone. Not “In loving memory”. Not “beloved wife and mother” because who in their right mind would make babies with me? Not “Rest In Peace.” No, let us not resort to cruel clichés. Instead I want “Thank you, everyone, and sorry fir all the typos”. And yes, that last one was intentional.
My life is incredible. It’s holy and unbelievable. It’s fucking fantastic. And I am grateful. To all of you.
Thanks, team. You’ve never let me down.
Sincerely and most drunkardly,
P.S. No, for real, I’m sauced hardcore right now. Hope you appreciate it!